by Laura Brown
She’d raged, and she’d blustered, but not cried. Levi took the fragmented pieces of her self-esteem and propped her back up, only to pull the rug out from under her. She should have expected it. He’d done what she had asked him to do, and moving on from Tom was a bonus. If only he hadn’t done such a good job. It wasn’t fair. But as her mother so kindly pointed out: life wasn’t fair.
…
Twenty minutes later, her buzzer rang, and she let Riley in, cracking open the door and plopping down onto her couch, huddled around a blanket. She probably looked like shit, the equivalent of a dilapidated piece of matzah sitting next to a beautifully browned challah or sourdough.
And now she wanted challah. Dammit. Could she even find challah during Passover?
The door pushed open. “Damn, what the hell happened?” Riley kicked it closed and then placed a bag on the table. “Gluten-free, aka passes for Passover, just in case you change your mind.”
Gaby peered into the bag like a snake might jump out and attack her. “Gluten-free? I needed comfort food.”
Riley pulled out a cookie and joined her on the couch. “Have I not shared this place with you yet? It’s delicious. Healthy food doesn’t have to be bad for you.”
Gaby narrowed her eyes. “I hate you right now.”
Riley shook her head, broke off a piece of her cookie, and stuffed it into Gaby’s mouth. Gaby chewed, because it didn’t taste like cardboard, and the sweet definitely not worthy of the bad rap gluten-free got flooded her taste buds.
“Oh my god,” she moaned, and Riley handed her a fresh cookie. “Why haven’t you shared this with me yet?”
“You were probably with Tom, and he thought sugar to be the devil.”
“Can we not get started on Tom?”
Riley leaned forward. “Fine with me. I’m more curious about the glow to your cheeks that states this cookie is not the most orgasmic thing you’ve had today.”
Gaby’s cheeks became an inferno, and she bit off a large piece to keep her mouth busy.
“That is all but confirmation. Is he as controlled as his workouts?”
Gaby grew even warmer, and she barely managed to swallow. “Better, until he loses control, and then holy moly.”
Riley squealed, and Gaby felt the sudden loss. She’d known she’d only get a taste of Levi, but a taste would not be enough. Much like these cookies.
“So why are we binging on dessert?”
“Because he’s engaged.” Gaby got up to collect some drinks and recapped the entire weekend to Riley. When she finished, so were two more cookies and half a bottle of wine. Non-Manischewitz.
Riley rolled back and laughed. “A bathroom at a highway rest stop?”
Gaby squeezed her eyes shut. “A family bathroom.”
Riley laughed harder, and Gaby couldn’t help the sides of her mouth from turning upward. “And then he just got out of the car and left?”
No, he hadn’t. He had sat in the driver’s seat as the seconds ticked past, until he gave Gaby such a look filled with heat and longing that she couldn’t think. But he got out and left. “He’s clearly still tangled up with Monica and lied about it, and I don’t think there’s any coming back from that.”
Only a flicker of doubt seeped in. She didn’t have the full story, that much she knew, and he’d claimed things were finished with Monica all along. Gaby needed a lot more cookies and wine.
Riley refilled Gaby’s glass. “The problem here isn’t what he’s told you, or not. The problem is you want to believe him but are afraid to.”
Gaby froze with the wine lapping at her lips. She forced herself to take a sip. “What do I have to be afraid of?” Even though the pulse at the base of her neck suggested otherwise.
“You only stayed with Tom as long as you did because he got comfortable, and leaving him meant changing your world. Now you’ve got someone new who doesn’t even speak the same language. It’s easier for you to ignore your feelings and stay in your little apartment, holed up away from the rest of us, than do something about it.”
Gaby slouched down on the couch, holding her wine in front of her like a protective barrier. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Though she feared she really did, and Riley had hit it more than square on the head. If Levi hadn’t lied and they gave this relationship an honest chance, it would involve a lot of change, more than she’d done with Tom.
“That’s your problem. Maybe you should reach out to him, give him a chance to explain himself?”
Gaby felt queasy and knew she couldn’t blame it all on the cookies and wine. “No. He lied, so the ball is in his court. If he wants to make amends, he knows where to find me.”
Riley bit into a cookie. “And if he does?”
“Then I’ll see what he has to say.” Gaby glanced around her living room, envisioning Tom shoving her out-of-place items aside. Then of Levi studying her place, not caring if her rug needed a vacuum or too much mail was piled on the table. She contemplated him staying more often, teaching her more, and her nerves kicked in. Because it would be different, it would be a challenge, and at this point, he didn’t deserve it. She collected another cookie, this one not gluten-free.
Chapter Twenty-One
The following morning, Levi let out a breath, hands clutching his steering wheel as he stared up at his parents’ house. He’d wanted to visit soon, but not under these circumstances. Not while still lying about Monica and with Gaby mad at him. All his choices and options had run out. He shook his hands. Time to get this shit over with and leave Monica behind him for good, one way or another.
He sent Monica a text letting her know he arrived, praying she’d tell him the truth had been revealed and he could enter unlinked to her. But the darkening clouds shifted across the sky, bringing no such relief-bringing text. He stepped out into the cool spring air, the sky threatening a pending storm. The same way he felt making his way up the front steps. The door swung open, and Monica sailed out, flinging her arms around him.
His stomach lurched, and he wanted to turn around, get in the car, and head back to Massachusetts.
Monica let him go. “Sweetie, you made it!” Her wide smile would have fooled anyone, but he caught the flicker, the one that said she’d rather punch him than hug him, and somehow that allowed him to breathe a little deeper.
He pulled her out of the direct view of those inside. “I’m not in the mood for this.”
“Join the club. Now go in there and smile like you like me.”
He let her drag him in, and for the next ten minutes, he forgot about the plan as he greeted his family, hugged his parents, and discovered that his nieces and nephews had a decent ASL vocabulary.
Manny pulled him aside, hands moving small and discreet. “You don’t look so happy, what’s wrong?”
Crap. Monica was going to have his hide if he couldn’t pull this off for a measly half hour. He forced his jaw to relax and the smile on his face to be genuine. “I’m fine.”
Manny studied him. “No, you’re not.”
Levi glanced at the blonde thorn in his side and wished he could sign something, anything, that contained the truth. Manny didn’t stop studying him, and Levi lost his older brother status, which grated on the tender nerve he had left. “I can’t explain now, but I will. Later.”
Manny’s eyebrows drew together, but Levi had managed to take his older brother status back, because Manny nodded and moved off, understanding that Levi needed time before he could explain a damn thing.
A hand clasped his shoulder, and he looked down at Steve, Monica’s father. “You two are good together.”
Levi looked at the older man and realized something else—his family signed better than Monica’s. Perhaps due to her being more hard of hearing than deaf and speaking.
He searched the room, finding Monica in a corner watching them, wringing her hands toge
ther. Clearly, the punch or hug battle continued. He had no reason to attract her punches, even if he could handle it. The sooner he got this show on the road, the quicker he’d get her off his ass. “She’s a talented woman, always impresses me.” The dress Monica wore was simple, elegant, and colorful, and that alone let him know it was one of her creations. She’d been making clothes since they were kids. He’d seen her closet; she took pride not only in creating, but also in showing off her hard work.
“With you, maybe her little dream can be something.”
Steve looked at him as if he held the Holy Grail, when all Monica really needed was support and she’d make a little dream into something bigger than her father gave her credit for.
An arm wrapped around his, and Monica leaned against him. Her left hand, with his pilfered ring, rested against his chest for a moment, the diamond catching the light, the entire movement calculated and intended. “He says I can make my dresses while he teaches.”
Steve nodded as though all was well in the world, and Levi would take care of this fragile little girl. If only Steve knew the nails digging into Levi’s arm intended to keep him in place. Monica had balls of steel.
He forced a smile, but it felt like a grimace. “Of course.” Not his best response, but he couldn’t do this bullshit. Monica deserved this on her own merit, not his status or position or dick or whatever it was Steve thought he wanted.
Steve faced Levi, shutting out Monica somehow, even though she still draped over his arm. “We should talk soon, figure out a plan that will work best for her.”
His smile fell, but he turned to Monica. “I thought you already had a plan in place?”
Her smile could bite a shark. “Oh, I don’t know that stuff.” She waved a hand, face akin to a foolish schoolgirl, when she had the smarts to go with the steel.
He removed her from his arm. She didn’t need him. Heck, she didn’t want him, which was the reason why they broke up in the first place. She needed her father to realize they were two peas in a pod, and she could do it all on her own. This was why he hadn’t been able to extract himself from her; he hadn’t finished his mission. He couldn’t find her switch because it wasn’t her switch. It was her father’s. She’d probably punch him, but he finally knew what he needed to do.
“Yes, you do. You know that stuff better than any of us do.”
Monica’s smile fell. “Sweetie, let’s not do this here.”
Yeah, she was going to punch him, and by the looks of Steve’s scowl, she wasn’t alone. Bonus, maybe everyone would believe they were truly not getting married. He took a step back and contemplated seeing if his old jockstrap was still in his bedroom. “You both need to talk about this.”
Dual scoffs came from father and daughter, and they both turned away. Levi faced Monica.
“You spent two hours more than once telling me about your five-year plan, including where you wanted your shop to be. You can spend ten minutes telling your father.”
Her gaze darkened, and if her eyes developed a mutation for laser shooting, he would be dust.
Steve waved a hand in a dismissal motion. “You two need to work through whatever problem you have. She probably talked about paint chips for two hours.”
Monica retrained her laser stare on her father. “No. I talked about the location, the type of people who walk by, why they would be interested in my dresses. With big stores buying out all the little people, selection has grown lacking. That’s how I’ll survive—because I’ll have what others don’t.”
Steve studied his daughter like he’d never seen her before. “You have that much planned?”
Monica straightened her shoulders. “Yes. I’ve had that for years. I know business.”
Levi backed away, leaving father and daughter to have an actual conversation and not play games. With any luck, he’d untangled himself from that particular situation once and for all.
A while later, two arms wrapped around his neck in a quick hug, pulling him from scrolling through social media on his phone.
“Thank you,” Monica signed, beaming, looking happier than he’d seen her in a long while.
“You’re welcome. He listening?” He thumbed in Steve’s direction.
“He’s starting to. How did you know that would make him listen?”
He shrugged. “It’s what I do. I flip switches. You needed your father’s support. He needed to know you could do it on your own.”
“I’m surprised. Didn’t know you had it in you. You flip the switch of your new girlfriend?”
His hope dwindled. “I don’t know how to help her.”
Monica studied him, really looking at him for the first time, or so it seemed. “You two have a fight?”
“Something like that. After all, I am technically engaged. She wasn’t a fan.”
Monica’s snake smile came out. “You really like her. That’s your problem. You like to flip people’s switches so that you can let them go. Example A: me. And you’re afraid if you flip her switch, you won’t want her anymore.”
He moved his hands to sign, but no words formed.
Monica’s smile softened. “I can help with one part of this.” Then she shimmied his ring off her finger, collected his hand, and placed the diamond in his palm.
He glanced around the room, finding his mother watching them with her arms crossed, and a few spoken conversations going on with wide eyes trained on them.
Monica patted his shoulder, then headed off to chat with someone else, leaving him floundering for purchase, even after getting what he wanted. He might be good with people, but Monica just nailed him on the head. Now he had an extra reason to figure out Gaby. Once he did, would he still feel the way he did now? He suspected he would, but until he accomplished his task, he wouldn’t know for sure.
Levi shoved the ring into his pocket and stared at his phone, wanting to send Gaby a text, but still not sure what to type. She was a colorful enigma, hurt by her father’s passing and by Tom, not seeing her worth. But she was more than that, so much more, and he couldn’t find the next level, couldn’t stop thinking about her.
He had to figure her out to see if it changed things.
Perhaps that was his problem—he didn’t want things to change. So he kept fighting himself, not willing to take the next step, to take the chance that Monica was right and that he’d lose interest.
Maybe he needed to see Gaby again, spend more time with her. But wouldn’t that just be leading her on?
Cart before horse, Miller. You don’t know if she wants to see you again.
So much for finding how she ticked and helping her out. Levi only knew he liked how she ticked and craved her energy.
He’d somehow found what made him tick, and it started with the letters G-A-B-Y.
His mother, with her salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a bun, touched his shoulder to gain his attention. “What Monica is saying is true? You two aren’t together?”
He studied her face, looking for signs he’d broken her heart. All he found was curiosity. “No, we don’t match.”
She crossed her arms, watching what had now turned into a half signed, half spoken business discussion across the room. “So I see.” She turned to him with her Mom Face on. “Who is it?”
He blinked and blinked again. But, no, his mother stood there, understanding him far too well. “Who is what?”
“The person you do match with.”
He ran a hand through his hair. No use denying it; she saw him. And now that things were settled with Monica, he didn’t have to keep secrets. He wanted to tell her all about Gaby, about her spunk and spark and the way she made him laugh. But none of it mattered. “I messed it up. Needed to settle things here first.”
She gestured to Monica. “It’s settled. It’s still Passover. Perfect time to fix things. I want to meet this woman.” Then she turned and lef
t him alone, as though he were fourteen and not thirty-four. As though he had a magic wand he could wave and fix things, when he hadn’t a clue.
His phone vibrated, and he woke it up, hoping for it to be the one person he couldn’t stop thinking of. Instead, he had a message from an unknown number, “What’s the truth about Monica?”
Levi: Isabel?
Isabel: You piss off any other women with sisters I should know about?
He ground his teeth together.
Levi: The truth is that we are finished.
Isabel: Prove it.
He shook his head, then pulled the ring out of his pocket and took a picture of it, sending it off. But that wasn’t enough, and he had more options than an easily misinterpreted picture. His gaze flickered to Monica, still across the room, still discussing business details with her father.
Proof. It stood right there.
He crossed the room and didn’t give two shits about interrupting. “Excuse me, I need your daughter for a minute.” He faced Monica. “I helped you. Now you need to help me.”
Monica went hands-on-hips, eyes narrowed. “I’m busy here.”
“Yeah, I don’t care. I could be in Massachusetts right now. Instead, the woman I may be in love with thinks I’m still hung up over you.” He shoved his phone into Monica’s hand. “So prove to her sister, who knows we were engaged, that we are through.”
Monica’s eyebrows shot up. “May be in love with? Either you are, or you’re not. Which is it?”
He froze, his own words coming back to haunt him. He had signed that, hadn’t he? And on the realization, some of his inner turmoil settled, a calming waved over him that he hadn’t had since the previous morning when Gaby still looked at him like he mattered. But it didn’t make sense, and getting into that here, where they’d just ended their engagement, wasn’t the way to go. He clenched his jaw and refused to check on the multiple eyes he damn well knew where on him. “I’ve known her for a week.”
