Page 137 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me

I could throw my arms around him and kiss him dizzy and assure him that nothing else mattered beyond this enormous Atlantic Ocean-size love that could never be contained in one human heart.

But trust had to be earned, not given freely, so I ignored those traitorous butterflies flapping their wings in my stomach and took a step away and then another until I’d put some distance between us. “I’m going back to the house.”

I walked away and left him standing at the water’s edge, watching me go.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Cleo

“You smoke too much,”I said when Gabriel lit a cigarette after dinner on the deck.

“Want one?” He offered me the pack and smirked when I took one.

“You’re so bad for me,” I said, leaning across the table for a light.

“Like a bad habit you can’t break.” His smile was smug.

If only it weren’t true.

“We’ll quit at the end of the month,” he said confidently as we smoked our cigarettes and drank our red wine from jam jars, like the classy couple we were.

The wind chimes danced in the breeze and a string of globe lights illuminated the deck…and his face. I wanted to crawl across the table and climb into his lap and press my face against the side of his neck. Breathe him in. Lick his throat. Brush my lips over his two days’ stubble.

But I scooted my chair back and tucked my legs underneath me.

“I’m still waiting for you to serenade me.”

“I was too busy trying to impress you with my cooking skills.”

Dinner was another revelation. Gabriel grilled fish that he got right from the boat this morning and corn on the cob that he bought at a local farm stand. The Gabriel I knew had never cooked a single meal in his life, let alone grill anything over charcoal.

We’d lived on takeout food. Or when one of us was feeling fancy, spaghetti with jarred sauce or tacos from a kit. Domestic gods and goddesses we were not.

I took a drag of my cigarette and blew smoke rings into the midnight blue sky. “You’ve really mastered your grilling technique. My fish was only charred on one side.” I was joking. The fish was perfect. “So how’s the songwriting coming along?” Yet another invitation to serenade me.

He shook his head and sighed. “I still only have three songs and less than two weeks to come up with more material.”

“What’s happening in two weeks?”

“I’m playing at a dive bar in Amagansett. The guys are coming out next week to rehearse and I still have no idea what to play for an entire set.”

By guys, I assumed he meant Eddie, Devin, and Tyler. I hadn’t spoken to them since I left for Bali, but they used to be my friends, too, so I shoved aside my apprehension.

It would be good to see them again.

“If you don’t have enough of your own music, just do covers,” I said. “You always make them your own anyway. If you want, you can practice now and I’ll be your audience,” I offered graciously, trying to hide how desperately I wanted to hear him sing again.

“You want to hear what I’m working on?” He sounded uncertain.

“Of course, I do. I’m still your number one fan.” Okay, maybe that was a bit much but when it came to his music, it was true.

He chewed on his lip, debating, then crushed his cigarette in the shell ashtray and went inside. I put out my own cigarette and took a sip of wine, trying to calm my nerves.

What if he didn’t sound the same? What if I hated his new music?

I had no idea what to expect, but he was back with his acoustic guitar, so I settled back in my cushioned seat, ready to enjoy the show.

He sat opposite me and strummed his guitar then cleared his throat. “Let’s start with some covers. I’m really into Neil Young right now. He makes me feel like it’s okay to sing in a high voice, you know?”