He sat there in stunned silence, almost as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard me correctly. But when the weight of my words finally settled, he didn’t contradict me. He didn’t push back. Instead, he sat up a little straighter, deep lines of concentration etched into his face, no doubt considering the bitter truth we’d both been too scared to admit.
He expelled a forceful whoosh of air, and when he looked up at me, I wasn’t sure if I caught a glint of light flash in his eyes or a sheen of moisture that filled his stare. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know.”
He nodded. “I’ll move my stuff out of the apartment as soon as I can figure out where to go.”
“We only have a month left of our lease anyway, you keep the apartment. I can stay with Marisol,” I replied.
He stood up from the table and slung his green canvas bag over his shoulder, tucked his phone into his pocket, and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “For what it’s worth, I do believe in you. I always have, even if I didn’t always know the right way to show it.”
“I believe in you too, Gabe,” I managed past a thick lump in my throat.
He nodded, and with nothing more to say, turned around and walked out the door. Without looking back, he disappeared into the city, the wave of pedestrians sucking him into the crowd like a riptide. I looked once more, unsure if I’d made the right decision, but it didn’t matter . . . he was already gone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
At the sound of the apartment buzzer, I double-checked my fancy updo in the hallway mirror, and noticing my naked earlobes, hurried to find the pearl drop earrings I’d pulled out of my jewelry box. I peeked my head out of my bedroom and saw that Lyla had answered the door, ushering Gabe in, while I finished getting ready for tonight’s fundraiser. I swiped on a coat of matte red lipstick, wafted through a final spritz of my favorite Chanel perfume, and checked myself one last time before sliding on my stilettos and stepping out into the living room.
As I made my way down the hallway, I could hear Sevyn’s voice, more serious than playful, grilling Gabe. “So, you don’t have a Tinder profile then?” she asked.
“Tinder? No. I’ve never been on Tinder.”
“Grindr? Bumble? Plenty of Fish? FarmersOnly?” she pressed, continuing her interrogation.
“No, no, no, and is there really a dating website specifically for farmers? Who knew? Truthfully, online dating was never my thing,” he admitted.
“Or so you sayyyyy.” She eyed him skeptically. “So then, what is your thing? Flushing house pets down the toilet?”
“Excuse me?” he asked.
Lyla jumped in. “Sevyn, he and Avery have known each other for years. I don’t think you need to give him the third degree.”
I entered the room, joining Lyla in her plea for Sevyn to back off the interrogation. “You’ll have to excuse Sevyn. She’s not only fiercely loyal, which I appreciate to no end, but she has had her share of questionable dates in the past.” Hearing my voice, Gabe turned to see me and sprang up from the couch when his eyes fully took me in.
“Oh my God, Avery, you look incredible. Gorgeous.” His eyes were wide, and he practically had to pick his jaw up off the floor.
“Oh, this old thing?” I joked and did a little twirl.
“Here,” he said, passing me a bottle of champagne. “I thought we could have a celebratory toast before we go.”
Sevyn leaned over to examine the label. “Veuve Clicquot, that’s really good stuff. I’ll grab some glasses for everyone.”
Clearly caught off guard by her assumption, Gabe stuttered, “Oh, um . . . okay. Great. Um . . . I guess we can all have a celebratory toast before we head out. Excellent.”
I smiled at him appreciatively, assuming the bottle had been meant for just the two of us. But I was grateful for his go-with-the-flow willingness to just play along.
Sevyn came out of the kitchen balancing an assortment of mugs, glasses, and red Solo cups. “Oak,” she called out, “Avery’s date brought some legit champagne, come and join us.”
Gabe turned to me and whispered, “How many of them are there? If I had known you lived in a sorority house, I would’ve brought more bottles.”
I laughed. “Just one more, but Ass is hardly ever home. I’ve lived here for a month already and actually haven’t even met her yet.”
“Ass? Her name is Ass?!”
I barked out a laugh at the look on his face. It probably was the same look I had when the girls first mentioned her nickname back when I was first looking at the apartment. “Actually, it’s Aston. Ass for short.”
“Ah yes. Got it now,” he said quickly, though clearly still trying to wrap his head around the unusual nickname.
Oak came out of her bedroom and swiped a mug from the counter while Sevyn passed around the remaining cups and glasses.
“So, what are we toasting to?” Lyla asked.
I looked at Gabe. “What are we toasting to?”
“Hmm . . . let me think on it for a second.”
“Just make sure that whatever it is, you make eye contact when you clink or else you will be cursed with seven years of bad sex,” Sevyn said. “In fact, that’s how I got my name. My conception is apparently what broke my parents’ spell.”
“Is that really true?” Gabe asked.
Sevyn lowered her eyes coyly and whispered, “I’ll never tell,” with a crooked eyebrow.
Gabe’s eyes widened and then locked in on mine. With a smile, he lifted his glass, still not blinking, and said, “Cheers to new beginnings,” and gently clinked his flute into mine.
As we pulled up to the ornate, gilded entrance of the Pierre hotel, porters in top hats and tails opened the door of the black luxury sedan Gabe had arranged. Dozens of taxis and black SUVs lined the block, waiting to drop off the eventgoers right at the entranceway. Gabe came around the car from the other side, offered me his arm, and we were ushered into the hotel’s signature trompe l’oeil–painted Rotunda Room with its double grand staircase and colorful Renaissance-inspired frescoes. Tapered candles illuminated the stairs leading up to a Juliet balcony, creating an intimate and warm ambiance in spite of the hall’s vastness. It was classic New York elegance paired with sophisticated Old World charm.
Though I’d been to dozens of events at the Pierre with Adam over the years, I never ceased to be amazed at the splendor of the decor, but tonight in particular, standing here with Gabe, there was something extra magical about the space. We picked up our seating cards from a table at the room’s entrance and made our way through the hall, stopping to say hello to different guests every few steps. And this time, unlike so many times before, Gabe introduced me to every donor, kept me by his side at every turn, and checked in with me over and over again to make sure I was having a good time.
“I’m fine, really. If you have to go help with something or attend to anything, I’ll be all right by myself for a bit,” I assured him, remembering all the events I spent on my own because he’d gotten caught up in one thing or another, sometimes forgetting I was even there at all. But this was clearly a different man, still attentive and considerate while also charming the room as one of the event’s hosts.