partner at Curro Villar and Hunt, Choice was recommended to her by Marco Villar to serve as her attorney. A work relationship had slowly become a friendship as Monica found she enjoyed the woman’s intelligence and humor. She was easy to talk to and Monica considered her a godsend...and probably the first person she’d truly taken the chance on trusting.
They both ordered quiche lorraine for lunch, with Choice choosing sparkling water with fresh fruit for her drink.
“Business first,” Choice said, reaching for her briefcase to remove a black file. “Your 501c3 has been officially established. Congrats on that.”
Monica accepted the file and opened it, knowing the certification was only the next step in establishing her charity. It would make any money she collected as a charitable organization exempt from federal taxes. Monica’s plan had been to just donate directly from her own money, but Choice had talked her into really making a go of the foundation—solicit funds, set up grants, hire small staff and maybe even a publicist.
“Now pleasure,” Choice said, her fork slicing into the egg-and-bacon dish baked in buttery pastry. “How’s Gabe? Or better yet how are you and Gabe?”
“Scary,” Monica admitted before taking a deep sip of her wine. “We see each other more. Talk more. Call each other more. He cooks dinner. We share things—dreams—with each other. Sometimes we don’t even have sex when we meet up. We’re breaking all the rules we set—well, all except one. Never to spend any more nights together.”
“And that scares you?” Choice asked. “Most women would give up a kidney to have Gabriel Cress in their life in any way.”
“Most women haven’t had their heart broken by both their parents when they were left to grow up in foster care without feeling seen...or loved,” she said softly before forcing a sad smile to her lips at the pity in Choice’s eyes.
Monica thought of Gabe lying to his brothers about his whereabouts last week and how she’d felt slighted—even though she knew she shouldn’t. Somehow that conversation raked up her feelings of self-doubt. Although he was abiding by the perimeters they’d both set, the hurt little girl inside of her felt he was ashamed of his dealings with her and wanted to avoid the disdain his family would feel about him being so closely enmeshed with their former maid.
“Is he seeing anyone else?” Choice asked.
Monica’s breath caught.
Is he?
“That’s none of my business,” she forced herself to say. To truly feel. “If so, she’s doing a horrible job keeping him from my door,” she added.
“Some men just can’t get enough,” Choice said.
“The last thing I need is more heartbreak,” she said more to herself than Choice.
“You had no control growing up, but you have all of it now,” Choice advised.
The waiter refilled her wine and Monica gave him a nod to thank him. “Yes, but the trick is to let my brain stay in control and not my heart,” she said.
“Trust me. I agree, friend,” Choice said, raising her goblet of fruit-infused water in toast to that.
Two weeks later
Gabe awakened with a start. The room was dark, and it took a moment or two to recognize the tray ceiling of his bedroom. He sat up in the middle of the bed and wiped his eyes with his hands as he yawned.
The sound of light snores caused him to freeze. He leaned over left and then right to check on the floor beside the bed. He raised the covers and lifted the pillows. There sat his iPhone, still on speaker with Monica’s name across the top. He chuckled as he picked it up. They’d been talking late into the night and had fallen asleep. Something he hadn’t done since high school.
He frowned and ended the call, staring off into the distance and not really seeing anything.
Monica had happened to call him to ask for advice about her nonprofit at a time when he’d been frustrated by yet another argument between two of his brothers. He revealed to her that the competitiveness in his family was tedious to him and that he desired to reconnect with his love of cooking. He was now curious why he felt the desire to share these things with her.
She had encouraged him to find a balance. To be happy with his life’s decisions. Live with no regrets. Treasure his family. That exchange between them had been natural. Comfortable.
The very idea of that growing ease between them caused him to wrinkle his brow and tumble deep into his thoughts