“It’s Savage’s mating dance,” I told him. “I’m thinking about using it from now on.”
“Not if you want me to take you seriously,” Gabe said, then chuckled. “Just start pulling off your clothes, and I’ll get the hint.” He hooked my belt loop and pulled me close “Seriously, I am so sorry that I’ve not been here a hundred percent. I’m going to fix it right now.”
“Yeah?” I asked, thinking I was getting sexy time.
“Yeah.” Instead of us both going into our room, Gabe went alone and returned with the envelope that had been weighing down his thoughts. “I’m ready.”
“I’ll grab beers,” I said. “Do we need snacks too?”
“I just need you.”
I stopped in my tracks and returned to him. “I’m right here, Gabe.”
I BLEW OUT A shaky breath as Josh sat beside me on the couch. I had no reason to be so nervous; nothing in the letter would change who I was, who I loved, or who loved me. I would still be Al and Martina’s son, Josh’s fiancé, and a detective for the Blissville Police Department. My parents would still be thrilled that I was marrying the love of my life, Josh would still look at me as if I was the one who created the sun, moon, and stars, and Adrian would be there to razz me over every little thing. Opening the letter shouldn’t change anything, yet, it could change everything.
What if my biological father was a bad person? My parents had told me on more than one occasion that my birth mother had been a lively, sweet young lady. They had known her family well, but they knew nothing of the birth father. What if I had been the result of the worst thing that ever happened to her? Were the sins of the father passed onto the son? In my mind, I knew that was total bullshit. I had lived a good life and was proud of the person I was; I had no legitimate reason to be worried about the secrets the envelope held. But I was.
“You sure we don’t need a snack or something?” Josh asked after I sat staring at the envelope. “I’m home later than normal, and I know how you get when your blood sugar gets too low.” He made a growling noise in his throat. It was the humorous jerk back to reality that I needed.
“That’s all you, Sunshine. Would you like me to get you a snack or did you grab a bite to eat on the way home?” It was well past our normal dinner hour, but nothing had been normal for us once we started renovations on the new place.
“I had a late lunch,” he explained then nodded to the envelope. “I’ll make you a croque monsieur after you finish reading the letter.” Oh man, he was playing dirty. He knew I couldn’t resist that fancy French toasted ham and cheese sandwich.
“Two of them,” I bartered. The letter was serious shit, and although I might be damning my cholesterol level to hell, I could use some comfort food. Funny how plain-ass grilled cheese used to be enough. Not once Josh got ahold of me.
“Deal,” he said happily. Then the expression in his hazel eyes turned serious. “Nothing in that letter changes who you are to me or anyone else who loves you. You’re still going to become the most amazing husband to me and father to our children. Now,” he nodded to the envelope again, “let’s do this.”
I nodded because my throat was clogged with too much emotion to speak right then. I blew out one last shaky breath then opened the envelope. I pulled the folded letter out and looked at it for a few heartbeats before I opened it. Here we go, I had thought to myself before I let my eyes focus on the words handwritten on the page.
Gabriel,
I have written similar letters to the one you’re holding hundreds of times over the last thirty-six years. I always weighed my need to know who you’ve become against your need to live a life that was unburdened by my guilt for giving you up. I wrote you a letter every holiday, birthday, and whenever the pain of failure got to be too much. Once I finished, I tucked the unsent letters away in a box because I couldn’t bring myself to throw them out.
It has taken me many years, and quite a bit of therapy, to get to the point where I can acknowledge that I had no reason to feel guilty. I was a seventeen-year-old girl who knew nothing about raising a child, but I knew that Al and Martina Wyatt would give you an amazing life filled with love.
Now my only regret is that I never held you at least once. The nurses and my parents worried that it would’ve been too hard for me and so you were whisked away before I even saw you. I heard your first cry though. You sounded healthy, strong, and a little angry at being removed from your warm, dark cocoon. There was only one stipulation I had with your adoption, and your parents readily agreed—your first name.
Gabriel was the name of my grandfather and the best man I had ever known. I was sure that having his name would give you strength, courage, and the discipline to do what was right when life tested you. Even though I don’t know anything about you, I’m positive it worked. I feel it in my heart.
I also wanted to assure you that you were conceived in love, even if it was the misguided youthful kind. Gabriel, giving you up for adoption was an act of love, not regret. My relationship with your father didn’t last very long, but I can assure you he was a good guy. I thought it was important for you to know that.
My family relocated not long after you were born. At the time, it felt like they were ashamed of me but I later realized they thought it was best for me to have a fresh start. To them, we moved to a new state, new home, new school and that closed the door on our old life in Miami, but that isn’t how the heart or brain works.
I thought they were ashamed of me, so I was ashamed of myself and told no one about you. I kept my letters to you hidden from my parents first, then my college roommates, and later, the man I married. Last year, my husband found the stash of letters addressed to you when we moved to our new house. He was shocked I had kept your existence a secret from him but understood why. He urged me to talk to a therapist and to find you when I was ready.
I am ready. My name is Bonita Gutierrez and I’m a teacher, wife, and a mother. Part of my therapy was coming clean to my children that they had an older brother walking this earth. They were shocked and then thrilled. I am not saying this to put any pressure on you at all, but you have three sisters who would love to meet you if that is something that you want. I thwarted their attempts to put pictures of themselves with this letter because you didn’t need the added pressure. They completely understand, as do I, if you’d rather just keep living life as you know it. There’s no wrong answer here, Gabriel. My contact number is included in the envelope if you ever want to reach out to me.
All my regards,
Bonita
I folded the letter and found a small piece of paper enclosed in the envelope. I smiled at the thought of my half-sisters trying to slip pictures of themselves inside. Josh cleared his throat, and I looked at him. It was so cute how hard he was struggling not to ask me a thousand questions. I handed the letter to him then went into the kitchen to get two beers.
“Wow,” Josh said once he was through reading it. “What are you going to do?”
The letter was touching, and it nearly moved me to tears, but I wasn’t sure what to do next. On the one hand, I was curious as hell to know about my sisters, but I didn’t know what all that curiosity entailed. I did know that it was cruel to make Bonita wait another day. I couldn’t imagine writing a heartfelt letter like she did then just sit and wait for a call that might not ever come. I was sure the PI she hired informed her that he delivered the letter to me as soon as he completed his task.
Guilt burned inside me like I had a stomach full of gasoline and had just swallowed a match. I figured the guilt I felt from making Bonita wait two weeks was a fraction of what she felt for more than three decades. So, even though I didn’t know what, if anything, I wanted from her, I knew what I wouldn’t do, which was make her suffer another day of waiting.
“Well, I’m going to call and thank her for the letter while you make my fancy grilled cheese sandwiches with extra cheese.” The smile I gave him was as cheesy as I liked my sandwiches. “I don’t know what I
’m going to say yet, but I know I need to say something.”
“I love you, Gabe.” Josh laid the letter on the coffee table and rose to his feet. “You birds be quiet while Big Daddy talks on the phone.”
“Big Daddy!” both birds repeated before they went back to staring each other down. Savage was still doing his “mating dance” as Josh called it.
I took a swig of liquid courage from the bottle and dialed the number on the piece of paper inside the envelope. My knees bounced nervously while I waited for Bonita to answer or her voicemail message to play. I was so used to people not answering their phone that it surprised me when she answered hers on the fourth ring.
“Hello,” she said shakily into the phone. She must’ve known it was me from her caller ID screen.
“It’s Gabe, uh Gabriel,” I corrected. “I just wanted to call and let you know that I read your letter and I’m sorry that it took me two weeks to do it. That was horrible of me to make you wait.” I heard my voice break with emotion and cleared my throat while I got control of myself. The sounds of Josh moving around in our kitchen grounded me.
“You don’t owe me any apologies, Gabe,” she said. “I had no expectations when I sent the letter, but I hoped that maybe you’d give me a call. Hope can sometimes be your best friend or your worst enemy.”
“That’s the damned truth,” I said. “Oh, sorry for cussing.”
“Things aren’t looking good if you feel the need to lead most sentences off with an apology,” Bonita said good-naturedly. “I can promise you that I’ve said much worse.”
“Okay,” I said, unsure how else to respond, although I needed to say more because the awkward silence was uncomfortable. “I’m not sure where I want this to go yet, but I just needed you to know that I have never harbored any ill will toward you. Grateful is too lame of a word to use to describe how I feel about my adoption. My mom and dad are amazing people, and I had the most wonderful big brother. You have nothing to be ashamed about or feel guilty because I’ve had an incredible life.”
“I remember Dylan,” she said. “My heart broke for all of you when the private investigator discovered that he died. I am so sorry for your loss, Gabe.”
“Thank you,” I said, once again at a loss for how to respond.
“I’m the thankful one,” she said. “I would love to get to know the man you’ve become if that is something you want someday. I’m going to let you decide what you want with no pressure from me.”
“Yeah, I think I’d like to get to know you too,” I said honestly.
“We’ll take this at your pace,” she said tearfully. “I’ll never pressure you for more than what you’re willing to share.” Her voice broke, and I heard her sniffling through the phone.
“I’ll be in touch soon,” I promised her.
“Okay,” she replied. “I look forward to it. Goodbye, Gabe.”
“Goodbye.”
I disconnected the call and stared down at my phone for several minutes. I felt lighter for having made a decision and pleased that it was the right one. I blew out a relieved breath and smiled up at Josh when he brought our sandwiches into the living room.
“I smell butter, cheese, and bread,” I said, rubbing my hands together in glee. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I know how much you love these things,” Josh said, sitting beside me.
I hooked my arm around his neck and pulled him to me. “Not for the food, although it’s my second favorite thing about you,” I said, nuzzling my nose behind his ear.
“My pleasure portal being number one,” Josh said, waggling his brows.
“No, that’s actually in the third position behind your cooking skills.” I cupped his chin with my hand. “Your heart is my favorite thing about you. No one has ever loved me the way that you do. And do you know what else?”
“What?” he asked.
“I might outweigh you by a good fifty pounds, but you’re stronger than I am where it counts,” I told him. I saw the disbelief in his eyes. “People look at us and think that I’m the strong one, but you are. Look how you’ve carried me for the past two weeks while I sorted things out. I consider myself a tough guy, but you are,” I paused while I searched for the right word, “badass.”
Josh snorted then sobered when he saw that I was serious. “Gabe, I love that you think that but…” I covered his lips with my finger to silence him.
“You are a total badass in everything that you do, whether it’s dance, cook, paint, make your clients feel wonderful, your loyalty to your friends, and in the way that you love me.”
“Even my mating dance?” he asked once I removed my finger.
“Especially your mating dance,” I confirmed. I leaned over and kissed him briefly. “I’m going to eat my sandwiches and drink another beer then I’m going to show you my very own mating dance.”
“This, I got to see,” Josh said then reached for his plate. He began cutting into his sandwich with a knife and fork because the melted cheese on top of the buttery, toasted bread made it too messy to eat with our hands. Josh pointed to my plate and said, “Get to eating and drinking so we can get to the dancing and the mating.”
“Blow me,” Savage squawked.
“Bite me,” Sassy replied.
Damn, I loved my life.
MOVING DAY CAME ON us fast. I was shocked at how much stuff I had acquired. We had spent every spare minute we had boxing up our possessions and labeling them for easy sorting and unpacking at our new home, which had yet to be named. Gabe wasn’t quite as organized as me and thought the labeling of the boxes was a bit fussy until the movers arrived and assured us how much quicker it would go. I didn’t say “I told you so,” but I might’ve given him a look that implied the same thing.
The movers didn’t say or act weird about mine and Gabe’s situation, but they did a double take when it came time to put the pole inside the van. Mover Guy One scratched his head and Mover Guy Two blushed a little while he grinned. I had already dismantled it by unscrewing the base from the floor, but it was quite obvious what the hell it was.
MG2 turned to me and asked, “Are these expensive?”
“You assume it’s my pole?” I asked him, causing him to blush even more.
“Uh… um.”
“I’m just teasing you,” I said. “The setup isn’t expensive, but pole dancing classes can be. However, it’s amazing exercise and worth every penny. Honestly, I recommend people take a class for at least a year before they install one at home. Yes, it’s great exercise and leads to amazing sex, but it’s also dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.” MG2 nodded as I spoke, but I could tell he was busy picturing a specific someone swinging around the shiny pole.
“Let’s get going, Mark,” MG1 said. “We’re not going to get done anytime soon if you keep staring at that weird thing with a dazed look in your eyes.”
“It’s not weird,” Gabe said, entering the room. “Different doesn’t mean weird.” Dear Lord, how I loved that man.
MG1 just shrugged then they both grabbed an end and hauled it down the stairs to the truck. Originally, I had planned to donate my furniture and buy new stuff for our new home, but the house was so damn big that I couldn’t justify spending that kind of money to replace perfectly good furniture. I bought new stuff for our formal living space and put my old stuff in the library, which was my favorite room in the entire house.
It was used as an office or a study, but I had it converted to a library. I had new shelves built to match the original ones, and sealed the entrances to the hidden room—both the one that Gabe had used and the one behind the kitchen pantry shelves that Wanda used to get the jump on him. I didn’t utter a single joke about the doors or what happened below. I simply hired someone to collect the old clothing for a museum since no one knew who they belonged to and had our contractor seal the entrances.
I liked owning a house that was rumored to have helped thwart oppression and slavery. I found myself thinking about Georg
ia and whether she would’ve approved of the changes that I made to the house she loved. Many people asked if I worried about ghosts or negative energy because she died in the home. I had a few doubts crop up here and there, but I set them aside. Walking into the home felt right, as if I belonged there; it was exactly how I felt when Gabe held me tight against him.
The house would be our home and our story. Yes, it would include grim stories from the past, but all homes and relationships had that. The key to happiness wasn’t to pretend bruised souls and broken hearts didn’t exist because you couldn’t build something solid on a foundation made of pretense, no matter how well-intended. Instead, own it, embrace it, and grow past it. Build that life brick by brick with mortar made of sweat and tears of both joy and sorrow to act as the glue that holds it all together.
Our friends showed up in full force to help us unpack and set up our new space. Chaz and Mere showed up after the salon closed, but Harley showed up bright and early as did Kyle, not that Kyle and Chaz were an item. Yet. No way in hell that wasn’t going to happen. The blush on Chaz’s cheeks when he showed up and saw Kyle told me that something had already happened and it was damned hard not to drag him off someplace and demand to know the details.
“Stay out of it,” Gabe whispered in my ear as I watched the two guys interact. “They obviously don’t need your help. Okay, any more help,” he corrected when I raised a scornful brow at him. I had pushed them toward each other a little bit, but he was right that additional interference wasn’t warranted.
“I wasn’t going to do or say anything,” I assured him then turned to give him a hug.
Gabe bounced back quickly after talking to Bonita the first time. It didn’t take him long to reach out to her again, and they’d become friends quickly. He had told her he was gay during their second conversation because if she had a problem with it, then there’d be no need for a third. Bonita had already known based on the information that the private investigator gave her and she was very accepting. I had talked to her a few times on the phone, and I found her to be warm and funny. I looked forward to meeting her and Gabe’s sisters. In fact, Gabe decided to invite Bonita, her husband, and his sisters to our wedding after discussing it with Martina and Al.
I Do, or Dye Trying (Curl Up and Dye Mysteries,#4) Page 14
