are beautiful, no matter how many times I tell you.
“And then,” he goes on. “When he broke things off, you seemed pretty upset but I thought, of course, you’d be. I was pissed off too. They were kind of assholes about it. I felt like a pair of worn shoes thrown to the curb. The way they went about it…they were so fucking brazen.”
“When did you know?” I ask again.
“Then, we went to Hawaii together, and you guys barely spoke to each other, so I thought maybe I was imagining the whole thing. And when you told me about New York, I figured it’s be okay just for one night.” He pauses for a second and then turns from me. “But then, when you came back, you weren’t the same. I don’t know what it was, but I knew something had changed. And then when he sent you that doll house on your birthday, the expression on your face said it all. And I knew it wasn’t just about the doll house.”
I bite my lip thinking back to that day. I had tried so hard not to let my feelings show. But I should have known Gabe would see right through me. “I’m so sorry, Gabe. I’m sorry for being so weak. I’m just as bad as my mother.”
He makes my heart jump when he grabs my chin and pulls me to him. “No, you’re not. Don’t you ever say that.” He releases me slowly. “I’m the one who should be sorry, Ella.”
“Why?”
“For taking you for granted,” he says. “I should have treasured you, should have helped more around the house, with the kids, cooked more. You work too. It shouldn’t be all on your shoulders.”
I nod, not able to say a thing.
“I should have taken you more places, bought you nice things.”
I take his other hand and squeeze it. “No, Gabe. I don’t need stuff.”
He tears his hand from mine and trails it along the side of my face. “And I should have made love to you, instead of always being so…”
I like how close he is, the proximity arouses me; his smell, his warm breath on my cheeks. “But you know I like our sex life, Gabe.”
“I know, but I should have made love to you more often. I should have been more gentle with you. You shouldn’t have to ask.”
I bite my lip. “But I don’t mind asking.”
I want to ask now.
“I hope this doesn’t mean you plan on always making gentle love to me,” I tell him, “because you know I do enjoy a good pounding once in a while.”
He smiles and clears his throat. “Uh…and on that note, I should probably leave you to your book.”
No.
I don’t want him to go.
“Tell me about Bridget,” I say. “Did you ever love her, just a little bit?” I’ve wanted to ask him this question forever. “Did she love you?”
He sits back down on the bed. He smiles at me. “I like Bridget. I consider her a good friend. I think she’s a nice person. Funny sometimes, and clever.”
I sink into the bed a little at the sound of his words.
“But no,” he goes on. “No, I never loved her, Ella.”
I know he’s telling me the truth. I know this man so well. I know when he lies. I’ve never been so happy to hear anything.
“Do you think she loved you?” I ask, thinking back to the way she handled things when he beat up Weston.
He shakes his head. “Bridget is…” he starts. “She’s not like you. She’s not emotional. She’s rational.”
I listen attentively, nodding but not quite understanding.
He smiles. “Let’s see, how can I explain it better?” he ventures. “It’s kind of like you’re a love song…full of beauty, emotion and drama,” he says. “And she’s…um…The Joy of Sex.”
I laugh out loud.
He laughs too. “It’s all about sex for her. The woman loves sex, the kinkier, the better.”
God, Gabe.
I shake my head. “No more, no more. I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t go into details. But I’ll just say she uses sex as stress relief, as an escape.”
I think about Weston and everything he’s told me, and I wonder if Bridget has told Gabe too. “I think everyone does…use sex as an escape.”
“We sure did.”
We both sit silently for what seems like an eternity. I wonder what’s going through his mind. I guess it’s probably the same stuff going through mine — how crazy this whole thing was.