by Nikki Chase
Given that Gabe spends most of his time in Africa, he’s probably about to purchase this property as an investment and rent it out. With his family’s wealth, he can certainly afford it.
“Do you like this apartment?” Gabe asks as he puts his arm around my waist.
“I already told you. It’s nice.”
“Yeah, it’s nice, objectively. But do you like it?”
“Yes, I really, really like it,” I say. “You know, most people would understand that if I say something’s nice, that means I like it.”
Gabe grins as we stop in yet another doorway, looking at the beautiful master bedroom.
Plush cream carpet covers the floor. The far wall has big windows through which I can see the city on one side and the ocean on the other side. A pair of white French doors open onto a smaller balcony with an intimate set of outdoor table and chairs for two.
Without saying a word, I walk across the carpet, my every step cushioned by the thick pile of the carpet. Warm sunlight and an afternoon breeze greets me when I open the French doors. I have to see the views from the edge of the balcony.
“I can definitely tell that you like it now,” Gabe says when he catches up to me. He gives me a tender look and a gentle smile—he’s only making the pain in my chest more excruciating.
“I guess.” I tear my gaze away from him. I try to focus on the views instead.
“Do you like it enough to move in here with me?” Gabe asks as he joins me by the railing.
I snap around to stare at him. My mouth hangs open. It grows drier with every breath.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he says. “I’m sure you can tell how I feel about you. I spend all the free time I have with you. When I’m not working, we’re always together.” Gabe raises his hand up to caress my cheek. “Surely you can tell I’m crazy about you.”
My thoughts are so loud it’s a struggle to try and listen to Gabe, but there’s no way for me to miss his next words.
“Jacqueline… I love you.”
I can’t breathe. It’s like I’ve been lassoed and the rope is squeezing my insides, constricting my lungs.
“Angel, are you okay?” A frown appears on Gabe’s forehead. He looks concerned.
I didn’t think this was going to happen.
He’s fallen for me, but this is not the happy occasion I thought it would be.
This is heartbreaking.
Because we can’t be together. He’ll hate me if he finds out who I really am, and he’s bound to learn the truth eventually. I can’t fake this for the rest of my life—which is how long I want to stay by Gabe’s side.
But breaking his heart has never been in the plans.
My chest hurts—physically. It’s like there’s an invisible knife slicing deep cuts into my heart.
Tears burn my eyeballs and stream down my face. I can’t stop them.
Now Gabe seems really concerned.
“Angel, did I say something wrong?” he asks.
I shake my head.
No, Gabe. It’s not your fault. It has never been your fault.
“I’m sorry.” My voice sounds shaky. “I’m sorry, Gabe. It was never supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to…”
My sentence remains unfinished, leaving unspoken questions floating between us. Gabe watches me intently, waiting for me to say something, to explain my tears. His green eyes have grown dark.
I can’t believe I’m about to break Gabe’s heart.
But it has to be done.
Before I have a chance to change my mind, I repeat, “I’m so sorry. This was supposed to be a fling.” The words fall flat even on my ears; they sound fake. Almost robotic. My voice breaks as more tears escape my eyes and wet my cheeks. “Goodbye, Gabriel.”
I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, then rush back into the bedroom and make my way out of the apartment. I can hear Gabe calling my name, but I don’t trust myself to look back even once.
In the bright, spacious living room, I sprint past the real estate agent who let us into the apartment. He seems surprised and disappointed to see me. He knows he probably won’t earn his commission from us.
Sorry, agent guy.
Sorry, Gabe.
I’ve ruined everything.
Jacqueline
“Jacqueline!” Gabe’s voice sounds closer, and so do his footsteps.
I walk faster and stick out my hand, hoping a cab will stop for me so I can escape this surreal nightmare that’s made of both my biggest wish and my biggest fear.
“Jacqueline, can we please talk?” Gabe asks.
No. I won't be able to end things a second time and go through that pain again. I’ll lose my will to live, and I'll join my brother.
Tears continue to stream down my face, no doubt streaking the make-up I carefully applied before this “casual date.”
Jesus, how could I have been so dumb? There’s no way in hell I could keep things casual with Gabe.
“Jacqueline, could you stop walking for a minute and talk to me, please?” There's sadness in his voice; perhaps even a hint of desperation.
I wish I could do what he wants me to do. He's trained me to follow his orders over the past few weeks, and now it feels unnatural to be disobedient. Something deep within me compels me to stop, but I drag my feet further and further away from the one man I’ve always loved.
It's better this way. For him. For me. For our families.
If we end things here, there's still a chance he's going to remember me fondly. Maybe someday he'll tell his wife about this great girl he used to date, and she’ll get a little jealous—that's really all I can hope for.
If we keep this up, I’ll have to tell Gabe the truth. He knows something's up now; he’ll get it out of me. But if I confess, then he’ll probably feel deceived. I’d rather not end it on that bitter note.
There's no chance we can just keep on floating as we have so far. We've come to the fork in the stream, and it's time to make a choice.
“Go away, Gabe,” I say between my sobs.
“What did you just call me?” he asks.
“I said go away!” I scream. I’ve stopped caring about passers-by staring. I’m crumbling inside; I don't have the energy to care about what strangers think of me.
Gabe takes big strides with his long legs and gets in front of me, blocking my way.
I evade him and keep walking, but he runs up to block me again and starts to walk backward while facing me.
“If you're not going to stop, I’ll just have to start walking with you. It’s okay. We can talk like this. This is definitely the most mature way to solve a problem,” he says.
The last jab stings. For the longest time, I felt like he didn't see me as an equal because of the colossal age gap. (Hey, eight years is a big age difference for a sixteen-year-old girl.)
I thought I was finally old enough for him. But maybe I’ll never be. It doesn't matter. I won't have any contact with him again.
“Leave me alone, Gabe.”
He remains quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. I won't bother you, Jacqueline. I’ll stop asking questions and leave you alone.”
Surprised, my gaze automatically flies up to meet his.
You're just going to let me go so easily?
Despite the fact that I was the one who asked him to leave, I feel kind of betrayed.
It doesn't make sense, I know. I’m the one trying to walk away from him.
But somewhere along the way, I lost my rational thought and gained some messy emotions instead.
Gabe's lips widen to form a cocky smile as satisfaction fills his eyes.
Damn it. He must've noticed something about me that he can use to make me stay.
And yet a part of me sings, happy that he’d fight for me.
Secretly, I’m rooting for him to win this round. I want him to convince me to give in to this vortex of magnetic attraction pulling us together.
I’d much rather he kidnap me and keep me locked up in a c
age, rather than go on as Jacqueline Summers. I’d give up my name, my career, and my identity to be with him.
Too bad I can't just ditch my family. I would if I could, especially if it means I can officially become Gabe's woman.
“Okay, what do I have to do to get rid of you?” I know I’m being cruel with the words I use, but it's better for him to be angry at me than it is for him to stay in love with me.
Love is evil. I know that now. It lures you in and traps you with sweetness and light, then tosses you into a dungeon and throws away the key. It keeps you prisoner.
And the worst thing about it? You don't want to leave this prison, even if all you have left of the initial sweetness and light are memories.
“Stop and I’ll tell you,” Gabe says.
I give myself permission to obey him and stop. It feels right to follow his orders. It feels like the most natural thing to do.
“Good girl.” He smiles at me and my knees go weak.
Shit. I may have made a mistake.
How am I supposed to start walking away from him again? I had momentum, but not anymore.
“Just get to the point. I have places to go,” I say curtly.
Gabe towers above me and traps me with his piercing gaze. “Liar.”
“Excuse me?” I raise my voice.
“You heard me.” Gabe stalks closer, looking like a predator about to pounce.
I glare at him.
I’m actually terrified. My heart is beating faster than the typing of a secretary from the fifties.
But I can't show him any weakness. He's already seen enough.
“I know what you are, Jacqueline Summers,” Gabe says as he takes yet another step closer. “You're a liar.”
Instinctively, my right foot steps backward, creating more space between us.
“I thought you were determined to keep walking forward, so why are you going the other way now?” In a commanding voice, he says, “Stay.”
Like a good dog, I freeze up at the command.
I’m hopeless. I just can't say “no” to him.
“You said you had places to go, but we planned to spend the whole day together. You don't actually have anywhere else to go.” Gabe's green eyes glint dangerously in the afternoon sunlight. “You say this is just a fling, but you're crying like someone’s just murdered your puppy.”
I'm actually not sobbing anymore now. The tears on my cheeks are starting to dry up. But my nose is still stuffed and my eyes must still be red.
I can tell him I’m not crying, of course. But I’d sound as convincing as a kid who's just yawned at bedtime but insists he's not sleepy.
“Just tell me what that one thing you want me to do is.” I put on a brave voice and challenge him. “Or are you a liar too?”
“I haven't told you one lie, angel. I love you,” he says with unexpected tenderness. He levels his gaze at me, letting me see the storm in his eyes. “Now, look at me and tell me you don't have any feelings for me.”
He's not letting me go until I say it. I know he means that. I can tell by the glow of determination in his brilliant eyes.
It's only words.
I don't have any feelings for you.
Only seven words.
It’ll take about three seconds to say it.
“I don't have—”
“Look me in the eye when you say it,” Gabe cuts me off.
God. As if it wasn't hard enough the first time.
I raise my gaze and stare at him. I hope I look like someone who doesn't care what happens next.
“I don't—” my voice cracks “—have…”
I try to get the words out, but Gabe's eyes demand my honesty. He sees how much this is affecting me, and he probably knows I’m lying.
Still, he did say he'd get off my back, right?
I clear my throat and blink down the tears that are pricking my eyes.
I fix my gaze firmly on Gabe’s gorgeous face.
“I don't have any feelings for you,” I say in one breath.
There.
I did it.
The world turns into a blur and the next thing I know, Gabe's wiping my tears away with his thumb. Gently. Carefully, like I’m something fragile and precious. Lovingly.
He was telling the truth. He does love me.
It’s like a crack that has been spreading for a while has finally torn a hole in my armor. The pressure within me is fighting to break out. I can’t stop the tears. I can’t patch the crack.
“Don’t touch me.” It takes all my strength to say it because his hand feels like heaven. But this simply can’t go on, and he’s making it hard for me to walk away.
Gabe says nothing. He just continues to catch my tears with his fingers.
“You said you’d leave me alone if I said it. I already did that,” I say in a shaky voice.
Who am I kidding?
I know the words I say stand in complete opposition to the way I look, with my red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.
“You’re a liar, Jacqueline Summers.” Gabe’s gentle voice penetrates my skin and fills my being.
He’s right. He knows I’m lying to him, and yet he’s still here.
But he still doesn’t know the truth. If he did, that would change everything.
And if we go on like this, he’ll inevitably find out.
“You don’t know me, Gabriel,” I say.
“Don’t I?” Gabe raises an eyebrow. “I know you have the cab company on speed dial because you’re always rushing somewhere. I know you mean to take the bus, but there’s never as much time as you think.
“I know you love the color red—and I like it on you; you always look stunning in red. I know you’re a hard worker. You’re curious and you’re a quick learner—I bet you used to be the teacher’s pet.
“I know you like it when I kiss your neck. Sometimes you start to let go, but you pull away and ask me to treat you rough as soon as it gets too emotional. I see you shut down and I always hate it when it happens.
“You think I don’t see you, but I do, angel,” Gabe says with a tender gaze and a small smile. “I see you. And I know you.”
I know he does. I can’t be around him and hide myself.
But there’s one thing about me he doesn’t know. And it happens to be pretty important.
If he knows who I am…
But if he loves me, maybe he’d stay…?
Does he want to live with a constant reminder of Sam’s death, though? And can he forgive me, after everything my family has put him through?
“Gabe, I…” I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it won’t go away. “There’s something you need to know about me.”
“What is it, angel?” Gabe looks at me with concern in his eyes.
Just blurt it out. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid, I tell myself.
But instead of words, more tears spring forth.
This is the scariest thing I’ve ever had to do.
What if he stops loving me?
What if he takes back all his words and walk away?
What if I’ll never see him again for the rest of my life?
“You don’t have to tell me, angel.” Gabe strokes my hair with his big, strong hand. “I love you, and there’s nothing in the world that can change my mind about you.”
Fresh tears well up in my eyes and run down my face.
But this time, it’s different.
This is hope.
“Just tell me you love me,” he says.
Without even thinking, the words form easily on my tongue and slide smoothly out of my mouth. “I love you.”
“I know.” Gabe’s lips curl up into a big smile. “And I love you.”
Gabe kisses me.
My face is red and my nose is blocked. A cloud of dust floats around us every time a car passes by. My hair is probably a mess.
But it doesn’t matter. Because Gabe’s kissing me.
He loves me.
Nothing else matters.
> Jacqueline
We took the apartment.
Yes, we. As in Gabe and I.
And yes, that apartment. The one that we saw together right before I confessed my feelings. The one that I really, really like.
I don’t remember much about what happened after we made a scene on the sidewalk. I floated on cloud nine for the rest of the day. Gabe took me back to his hotel room and we fell asleep in each other’s arms all through the night.
Tonight will be the last night we sleep at the hotel. After two weeks, the lack of space is starting to get to me. The room feels claustrophobic, and I hate having to call the front desk every time I need an extra packet of sugar.
But today, we’re getting the keys to the new apartment. Gabe’s lease starts today, and we’ll be moving in tomorrow. By nightfall, we should be trying to christen every room in the house.
Only Gabe’s name is on the lease, and only Gabe will be paying the rent. I insisted on paying half of it, but he said my money should go toward paying off my student loan.
Still, for all intents and purposes, it’s going to be our apartment. Our love nest.
I haven’t gone home to see Mom or Ray in days. The last time I dropped by, it was only to get some clothes and toiletries. I didn’t even get a chance to see anyone before I hopped back into a cab.
I feel bad about spending so little time with them, but it’s not like we used to be the kind of family that gathers around the dining table and has a lively conversation.
Mostly, we stuck to our own rooms. And I’ve always had a busy schedule, both as a medical student and as an intern, so I never got to see them much anyway.
Whatever. I’m twenty-four. I make good money. It’s only natural for me to move out. Why should I have to feel guilty about it?
I thumb through the yellow folder of documents organized by the patient’s surname. Dr. Crenshaw wants me to enter this data into the computer system.
It’s mundane, mind-numbing work. But someone’s got to do it. And that someone is apparently a medical school graduate who has racked up more than $100,000 in debt to get her education.
Sometimes it bugs me that for all the work I do in medical school, almost half of my workday consists of recording information. But I tell myself I didn’t get into medicine for the prestige, and even this admin work is part of helping people.
