Page 46 of Loving Wild

Ava’s eyes shift from her screen to meet mine, a smirk on her lips, which she attempts to roll between her teeth and hide.

“Seriously,” I say with a sigh and a headshake. “He’s like a child.”

“Yep,” Ava agrees. “And what he forgets is that I no longer am a child and know exactly what the words to these songs mean.

“I am so sorry,” I tell her.

“It’s cool. I’m just happy he’s got you to play them to.”

“Yeah, I just wish you didn’t have to listen too.”

The unmistakable opening of Ginuwine’s ‘Pony’ starts up.

“Okay, time for my shower,” Ava says as her stool scrapes against the hardwood floor.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologise again. Ava grins at the floor as she puts her cup and plate in the sink before heading downstairs to her room.

After making a coffee for Gabe and a fresh cup for myself, I eat a banana and take a couple of painkillers, making a mental note to call my doctor this morning and make an appointment. The ache I’ve had in my lower belly these past few weeks hasn’t gone, and it’s starting to worry me.

Coffee cup in hand, my eyes move towards the hallway that leads from the bedroom when I hear the door open. I’m all fired up and ready to give Gabe a serve about his inappropriate music choices in front of his daughter, but all thoughts of complaining evaporate when I catch sight of him.

Gabriel Wild is wearing a suit.

I’ve seen Gabe in a suit before but not this suit.

This suit is the exact shade of dark blue as his eyes.

He’s teamed it with a white shirt and dark blue and tan striped tie, and tan coloured shoes, although they might be boots, but who cares because they look fucking hot, and I don’t know why I’m even debating if they’re boots or shoes.

My eyes travel up the length of his long, lean body to meet his eyes as he moves towards me in that confident stride of his.

“Wow,” I say on an exhale.

“What?” he questions, adjusting his cuff and coming to a stop.

“I don’t think you should leave the house dressed like that.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Is it the shoes?” he asks as he looks down his legs to his feet.

I shake my head as the confidence I felt at him being mine when I woke this morning begins to haemorrhage through my pores. I wrap my arms around my middle in an attempt at stopping the flow, but it’s too late.

I’m standing in Gabe’s kitchen wearing pyjama bottoms with the face of Angelica from Rug Rats all over them, a Carnage band T-shirt, no makeup, and my unbrushed hair piled on top of my head in a messy knot.

I feel like a mess.

I feel inadequate.

I feel every one of my forty-four years.

I cross my legs. Maybe that will leave me with something, stop just a tiny shred of my self-esteem escaping.

“The shoes are perfect.Youare perfect, you look gorgeous.”

He stares at his own hand as he widens his palm over the chest of his suit jacket as if taking himself in for the first time. Looking up at me, he blinks slowly a couple of times.

“Hope there are no women at your meetings today,” I say with a nervous laugh while wearing a fake smile.

My smile vanishes the instant Gabe narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side. His hands go to his pockets, he looks at the floor, then back up at me.