Page 37 of Every Broken Piece

Chapter thirty-six

Tess

H aving a man in my apartment isn’t as strange as I thought it would be.

I like my space. I like living alone, but Gabe just fits.

Somehow, he effortlessly slipped into my life, and I don’t know what to do with that.

I can’t have him here and yet I’m doing nothing to make him leave.

Truth is, he makes me feel safe and if I’m going to let him stay, I need to tell him about the money my lovely mother owes and the man who expects me to pay it.

Unloading all that baggage onto him doesn’t seem right though. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t even ask for a virtual assistant. That was all Jack’s doing. And now he’s standing in my kitchen cooking us dinner.

He came on his own, Tess. He’s staying on his own.

I unravel myself from the blanket he tucked around me and settle on the kitchen barstool just to be a little closer to him.

My mail from the past week is in a neat stack on the breakfast bar.

I start opening it. Bills, bills, and more bills.

I put them in a pile to worry about later.

I have money saved, but not enough to live off of for long and to move somewhere else.

It’s expensive to move. Most apartment complexes require the first and last month’s rent up front, then fees to activate WIFI and utilities. It’s too much to think about with a pounding head so I push the pile away and reach for the next piece of mail.

Suddenly a glass of water and two pills appear at my elbow. This man. He always knows exactly what I need, when I need it. I swallow the pills and indulge myself by watching him move around my miniscule kitchen, stirring pots of boiling water, like he’s been here forever.

Earlier a car dropped off his luggage from his hotel.

Apparently, he’d checked out and if you’re rich enough, the hotel will deliver your luggage to you.

He took a small carryon and a messenger bag with his laptop and work files into my office where I told him he could sleep.

When he came back out my jaw dropped at this new Gabe that emerged.

Worn Levi’s that fit like a glove, a long-sleeved Henley that clung to well-defined pecs.

He must work out a lot. Like, a lot .

He then proceeded to open and close cabinet doors, pulling out pots and pans and things from the refrigerator. My apartment smells like garlic and spices and my mouth is watering.

He glances over his shoulder and smiles, and I about melt off my stool. Where did this man come from?

To distract myself I open the next envelope and freeze. I must make a noise because Gabe is suddenly leaning over the counter, wrapping his fingers around my good wrist.

“What’s wrong?” He pulls the letter from my grasp, his lips thinning as he reads it, holding it out farther because he doesn’t have his reading glasses.

He lets the paper drop and moves to sit beside me. Turning my stool to face him, he cups my cheeks with his large hands and swipes at my tears with his thumbs. “You knew this, Spitfire.”

I guess I’d been holding out hope that he was wrong about TaskGenius. That there’d been a big misunderstanding and when I call Mary on Monday she’ll apologize.

His hands move from my cheeks to the back of my neck. He presses my head to his strong chest where I can hear the comforting thump-thump of his heart.

“I’ll make this right,” he says, his voice rumbling through his body.

“How?”

He runs a hand over my hair, sifting the strands through his fingers. “We’ll think of something. I don’t want you to worry about it though, not when you have to concentrate on healing.”

I pull away and he lets me go, his hands dropping to his thighs. I wipe at my tears and tip my head back, blinking to clear the rest of them. I have to worry about it. I can’t survive without a job.

“Hey.”

I drop my head to look at him. His salt and pepper hair is mussed, making him look sexier than ever and reminding me that we’re worlds apart and not just financially.

“Trust me?” he asks.

Reluctantly, I nod. Trust isn’t the issue here. So many other things are the issue, but trust in him isn’t one of them. Sometime in the last few hours that wall came tumbling down. It should frighten me, but it doesn’t. It feels good to have one person I can trust in this world.

“Let me finish dinner. We’ll eat, then we’ll find a stupid movie on TV and chill for the rest of the night. We can worry about all this—” he waves at the envelopes scattered across the bar, “—tomorrow.”

He places a soft kiss on my forehead then gets up, sweeping all the mail into a big pile.

“What can I do to help?” I ask.

“Sit there and heal.”

I laugh, surprised that I can actually laugh in the face of everything happening to me. He smiles and oh, how those gorgeous blue eyes crinkle at the corners. I could so easily fall for him if I let myself.

You already have, you big doofus.

Ignoring that annoying voice, I say, “Let me at least get the plates out and set the table.” We’ll have to eat at the breakfast bar since I don’t have a table.

The moment he walked into my apartment I’m hyper aware of every worn spot, every sagging couch cushion and mark on the wall.

I shouldn’t be embarrassed about where I live considering where I came from, but for a man like Gabe, I’m sure it looks horrendous and the last thing I want is his pity.

“You know your way around a kitchen,” I say as I pull glasses off a shelf and fill them with ice and water.

“Not really,” he says. “This is about the only thing I know how to make. Jack’s a better cook than me.” He starts plating our dinner and waves me toward the barstools. “When Pax was little Jack and I tried to make sure he had as many homemade meals as possible, so we traded off cooking duties.”

I take a bite of chicken parm and groan. “Ohmygod, this is... Gabe.” Realizing I’m talking with my mouth full I chew and swallow as I’m forking up more. “This is delicious.”

When he doesn’t answer I glance up to find him watching my mouth with razor sharp concentration and heat in his eyes. I pause, fork halfway to my mouth. He blinks and looks down at his plate. “Glad you like it.”

We eat in silence for a few awkward minutes. Did I see what I thought I saw in his gaze? Am I making this up? Projecting my own misguided feelings on him?

Feeling self-conscious and needing to divert whatever it was that just happened between us, I say, “Tell me about Pax.”

For a long while he doesn’t answer. The scraping of our forks against plates are the only sound in the apartment and I fear I overstepped by asking him something that might be too personal.

“I’m sorry,” I say when so much time has passed that the awkwardness has returned. “You don’t have to talk about him.”

“No, I want to,” he says. “I just don’t know how much of my story you know.”

I lay my fork down and wipe my mouth with the napkin before taking a drink of water. “Whenever I’m assigned a new client, I try to find out as much as I can about them. It helps me help you.”

He huffs out a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t know if I should be happy or upset about that. There’s been a lot written about me, not all of it good.”

“I only read the good ones.” I grin. “You’ve been very successful.”

“In some things, yes.”

Interesting choice of words. What does he think he failed at? Being a father? A husband? Not building a big enough empire?

He drains his glass of water and gets up to refill it. Instead of coming back to his seat, he leans against the sink, facing me.

“Cara, my wife, died when Pax was two years old. She was in a car accident. Crossing a train track when a train hit her.”

It’s one thing to read about his life, another to hear it from the man whose world was shattered. The grief is in the hitch of his voice, the quick blink of his eyes, and the sudden drop of his shoulders.

He stares down into his glass. “Things were confusing and scary for a long time after that. Our marriage was very old-fashioned. I worked. Cara took care of Pax. That’s how she wanted it, and she loved being a mother.

After she was gone... I didn’t know how to raise a son by myself.

” He pauses. I wait, motionless, not knowing if I should stop him or if he needs to get this off his chest. “Suddenly, I was alone with a baby who missed his mama. It was all on me and it was terrifying. Jack saw me struggling. He moved in with me and it was the three of us for a long time. Two men and a baby.” His grin is sad and nostalgic.

“Neither of us knew what to do with Pax so we just kind of went with it. We were a mess, but you know? It’s those memories I cherish the most.” He puts his glass on the counter and spreads his arms wide behind him, his fingers curling around the edge of the counter.

“Jack stayed with us until Pax turned thirteen, but he didn’t go far.

He moved to the apartment below us. He’s still there and it’s still just the three of us. ”

“I’m sorry that you lost Cara so young, but I’m happy that you had Jack.”

He shakes his head. His lips twist in a sad grin. “I don’t know how Pax survived, but he did. He’s now a junior at Colorado State and headed for great things.” The pride in his voice is apparent, as is the bittersweet sadness that his time with his son is almost up.

I slide off the stool and circle the bar to wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head against his chest. I’m finding that this is my favorite place to be, listening to the solid beat of this generous man’s heart.

His arms loosely enfold me. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, then sighs. “That got deep real quick.”

I laugh. “That’s not what I expected when I asked about your son, but I’m glad you told me.”

He squeezes me and I squeak. “Let me clean up, then we can watch our stupid movie. You pick.”