“What’s her name?” I ask.
The whole point of this weekend, I’m realizing, is to get answers to unanswered questions. I just never thought this would be one of them.
“Teddy,” Gabe says.
I look at him.
“I never was a very creative adult,” he says.
I wipe my nose again and give Teddy a scratch behind her ears. She leans hard against me and then slowly slides onto her back, showing me her stomach. We sit there in the entryway of Gabe’s apartment for a long time, me rubbing her belly, her tail thumping on the hardwood floor.
“I’ll take your bag to your room,” Gabe says.
He gets up and leaves us alone.
I know the apartment is above the Cozy—the shop that Gabe bought for his mom and sister—but we came in from the back, so I didn’t get to see the building.
I stand—much to Teddy’s chagrin—and brush her hair off my legs.
There’s a little table in the entryway where I’m standing and it’s covered with framed photos.
Most of them are of Gabe’s niece, Lena.
I smile at what must be the most recent one—a thirteen-year-old girl scowling at the camera in a typical thirteen-year-old-girl fashion. I can feel that scowl deep down in my soul.
There’s a family photo on the end—Gabe, his mom, his sister, Lena, and a round-faced guy with Lena’s eyes.
My smile fades.
I’d read about Gabe’s brother-in-law. How he’d died in a car accident a few years ago.
We’d spoken about him, briefly, during that first interview. How they were going to go on a trip together—to Italy. How he—Spencer—had never left the country before. There’d been articles after his death, mostly as an excuse to show grainy photos of Gabe and Jacinda, combined with breathless reporting that they were as strong as ever.
There’s another picture—the oldest one on the table—of Gabe and his sister when they were little. They’re maybe two and three. They’re each on a lap. Lauren is on her mom’s. Gabe on his dad’s.
I’d never seen pictures of Gabe’s dad before but it’s clear that he got a lot of his looks from him. The thing I appreciate the most, though, is the enormous bushy mustache turned upward above his smile.
I step into the living room, Teddy following me on her big, fluffy feet.
Gabe’s apartment is huge. Two bedrooms, at least, a big, beautiful kitchen, and a living room with the largest TV I’ve ever seen. Still, despite the size of the place, it’s cozy. The vintage-looking metal fireplace in the corner, painted a lovely rust red, makes the place look like a cabin from the sixties.
On the coffee table is a half-completed puzzle.
“You puzzle?” I ask as Gabe comes out of what I presume is the guest room.
“I do,” he says. “It’s become a part of my recovery.”
I check out his choice in puzzles.
“Mammals of Yellowstone.”
He’s gotten about forty percent of it done.
“You start from the edges,” I observe.
“Uh-huh,” he says, folding his arms.
He leans up against the kitchen wall, looking gorgeous and comfortable. Teddy settles into her bed next to the couch. The whole thing veers in and out of normality. Am I really in Montana in Gabe Parker’s apartment?
What is going on here?
In order to ignore the cognitive dissonance that keeps threatening to unmoor me, I lean over the puzzle board, searching for pieces.
“I thought we’d established that I read your work,” Gabe says.
I straighten. I’d forgotten. Or, hadn’t made the connection.
“You started puzzling because of me?” I ask.
“In a sense,” he says, pushing away from the wall. “Tried a bunch of things, but this one stuck.”
The look he gives me is so intense that I have to glance away. It makes me feel vulnerable. Exposed.
“Are you cold?” Gabe asks.
I realize I’ve wrapped my arms around myself.
“I’m always cold,” I say.
He smiles a little at that, brushing past me, headed to the fireplace. It doesn’t take long, but I enjoy watching him work. It’s elemental, watching this big hunk of a man build a fire to keep me warm.
The fire does its part to add to the atmosphere, crackling merrily and casting the room in a golden-red glow. Teddy lifts her head, leaning her chin off the edge of her bed as warmth begins to spread through the apartment.
“Gabe,” I say. “What am I doing here?”
He pushes out of a crouch, and comes toward me.