her head to look up at him.
He enjoyed the sight of her. His eyes wandered over her as if he were feeding a hunger.
“About myself. About love. Family. So many things,” Monica continued.
He’d felt anguish when he’d thought he had lost her forever.
“I love you, Gabriel Cress,” she stressed, tilting her head to the side as her eyes searched his. “I forgive you.”
So, this is joy.
“If—” she continued.
He tensed again, feeling completely shaken by the emotional roller coaster. His hint of a smile faded.
“If you can forgive me for letting my past filter everything you did and see it all in a bad light,” she said, easing her hands around his waist. “Forgive me.”
Gabe released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Without question,” he said, his voice deep and brimming with meaning as he brought his hands up under her hair to hold her neck and jaw in his palms.
They stared at each other. The energy—that familiar pulse—was there as their serious expressions were replaced with slow smiles. Long, endless moments of just enjoying being in one another’s company again.
This was love.
Pure and profound.
He lowered his head, giving in to his hunger, and she tilted her head up and welcomed his kisses. Slow and soft at first, with moments in between each where their lips barely touched and they inhaled of one another’s shaky breaths. And when they deepened, each moaned from down within as they clung to one another, until their bodies seemed to blend.
Gabriel knew in that moment that he loved her like he had never loved before, and that she had claimed a piece of his heart that no other woman would ever be able to reach. And there was not one bit of fear in him about it. Not one.
This was love.
Why had they denied themselves for so long?
It was Monica who broke the kiss and smiled at him as she cleaned her gloss from his lips with her thumb. She slid her hand in his. “You have an opening to attend,” she reminded him.
“Let’s walk slow,” he said with a deliberate look down at the length of him hard and pressing against his pants.
She chuckled as she leaned against his arm. “My desire is not as easy to see,” she said.
“The thought of that isn’t helping,” Gabe said, his voice deep.
“Maybe I should put a little distance between us,” she said, slightly teasing as she released his hand.
“Not too much.”
“Never again,” she said, stopping as they came to the front door. She held up her pinky finger. “I promise not to ever push you away and you promise to never leave. Deal?”
Gabe hooked his pinky with hers. “Deal. No fear?”
“No fear,” she agreed.
When they finally walked inside, the sounds of a successful restaurant surrounded them. Conversation blended with jazzy music. Forks hit dishes and glasses touched each other in toasts. Monica made a move to reclaim her seat, but Gabe held steadfastly to her hand to guide her behind him to the center of the restaurant where his family sat.
Frank looked relieved as he motioned for the servers to bring two additional flutes.
“What made you send the invite?” he heard Monica ask his mother.
“I was tired of seeing my son miserable without you,” his mother replied.
So, it was her.
He cleared his throat and stared down at his feet to gather himself before he finally looked over at his mother. By sending that invite, she had accepted and welcomed Monica into the fold. For him.
That, too, was love.
Gabe accepted the flutes and handed one to Monica before facing his guests. “I’m proud and humbled to announce that GABRIEL has full reservations for the next four weeks. Thank you for the first of hopefully many nights to come of good food, good drink and good times. This is my life’s dream, and I’m honored to share this night with all of you, with my family who taught me everything I know about food, and this woman beside me who taught me everything I know about love,” he said, looking down at Monica, who was already looking at him.
The night was perfect.
“To GABRIEL,” Phillip Sr. said.
As everyone in the restaurant raised their glasses in a toast to him and his establishment, Gabe looked over at his father and saw pride for him in his eyes. He had grown beyond needing his father’s approval, but in truth, it was an honor to have. Extending his flute, he touched his glass to his father’s before then lifting it