Page 36 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me

What if he wasmyonce in a lifetime?

“I hope you find your Jane,” a girl at the next table yelled, effectively snapping me out of my trance. “But if not, I’d be willing to fill in.” She flashed him a bright smile and offered herself up on a silver platter.

I glared at the waif-like blonde with a gold nose ring who couldn’t take her eyes off him. I wanted to kick her in the shin. Or better yet, scratch out her eyeballs.

When my gaze returned to Gabriel, the corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile like he’d read my mind.

God, this guy. He brought out my violent streak. I’d never had a jealous bone in my body, and now look at me, reaching for my pepper spray. Not literally, of course. I wasn’t a total psycho.

“I’m keeping the faith,” he said, eyes still on me. “I think there’s hope yet.”

Before we left, Gabriel wrote a note on a paper napkin and stuffed it into my coat pocket.

We spilled out of the café and said our goodbyes on the corner. He told my mom it was great to meet her. She told him it was a pleasure, and that his music and his voice were extraordinary.

On a parting note, she said, “The world needs good music. If you’re offered a record deal, don’t instantly dismiss it. There’s always room for negotiation. Just remember that.”

He nodded solemnly and said that he would. I think he respected my mom’s opinion. I think it was half the reason for that spontaneous performance at Monks. The other incentive was obviously to torture me.

“Oh, hey,” he said. “Has anyone got the time?”

My mom told him it was seven thirty.

“Oh shit. I was supposed to meet someone—” His eyes met mine and he grimaced.

Just tell me you were supposed to meet a girl without telling me, why don’t you?

“I need to run. I’m playing at Cornelia Street Café,” he said as if just remembering he had a gig this evening.

With a final look at me, he dashed across the street in the snow, running late as usual, in a beanie and an army jacket that wasn’t thick enough to keep him warm in the middle of winter.

Not my problem. I’m sure he could find plenty of girls to keep him warm. I’m sure the blonde in the café or the girl he was supposed to be meeting would be more than happy to share their bed.

Not that I was bitter.

“Come on,” my mom said. “I want to see your designs before I go.”

As we walked up Avenue A past the park, the note in my coat pocket felt like it was burning a hole right through the lining. I desperately wanted to read it, but at the same time, I didn’t.

I’d fallen in love with his words so many years ago. Had built him up in my head so much that he couldn’t possibly live up to my idyllic vision.

And yet.

And yet…

How did you stop yourself from wanting someone you shouldn’t want?

“You’re Jane,” my mom guessed.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I’m Jane. And he’s the boy who lost his notebook in the park three years ago.”

“His notebook—” She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and grabbed my arm. “The boy of your dreams?”

“He’s not. I just…I was young and stupid when I said that.”

She laughed. “You’re still young.” She tilted her head and studied my face in the hazy acid glow of the streetlight. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing I can do.” Except to forget him.