Page 19 of The Single Dad Grump Next Door (Stuck Together In Mermaid Shores)

Chapter Nineteen: Alina

T he music has stopped, but I’m still here.

Deep down, I know I should go now. I know that I’ve played my part, that I’ve shared my opinion, and that I’m no longer needed. I know that Karina and Andy have dinner ready next door, and that they’re probably wondering where I disappeared to.

Despite that, I can’t bring myself to leave quite yet. There’s more that needs to be said, and I’m afraid that if I let this moment end, I’ll never be brave enough to push past the old roadblocks that have kept me from exploring the truth underneath the intensity of my feelings for Gabe.

The sound of the song he composed hums inside me like a vibration I can’t shake. Gabe’s little piano and my violin had entwined like lovers, speaking in a language only we could understand. The way our notes wove together was effortless, natural, and terrifying.

Clearly, he’d been thinking the same thing. Why else would he have brought up that old Mazas duet, if not to draw attention to how different things are between us now?

How strange, to no longer be fighting him at every turn.

How bizarre, to no longer want to.

I glance at him, but he’s already looking at me, those bright green eyes searching mine for… what? Validation? Understanding? An apology?

“So, anyway… That—playing with you now—was… something,” he says, voice low and uncertain.

His usual confidence is absent, replaced by something rawer.

Suddenly, there’s a tension in the air that feels simultaneously electric and awkward. All at once, I feel like a fumbling teenager confronting true vulnerability for the first time in my life. I feel young and new and inexperienced, like I’m just eighteen years old again and meeting Gabe for the first time.

I’d been so afraid back then. That’s why I defaulted to hatred. It was easier, simpler.

I nod at him, swallowing hard. “Yeah. It was something.”

The words feel insufficient, but I can’t bring myself to elaborate. What could I even say? That I’ve spent years hating him because I saw too much of myself in him?

That playing with him just now felt like exhaling after holding my breath for decades?

No . I can’t say that. That’s too much.

Gabe’s fingers flex, hovering over the plastic keys like he might start playing a new tune just to let out some of the nervous energy bubbling under the surface. Or maybe that’s just me, itching to reach for my violin again.

His knuckles tighten before he forces himself to relax. “Do you, um… do you want to play something else with me?”

I shake my head, glancing down at my violin case. I’m determined to do what Dr. Hansen said. I don’t want to mess this up. Even if I really do want to keep playing with Gabe, more than anything else.

My hands tremble slightly, and I hate that he might notice.

“I think we should press pause,” I say softly, avoiding his eyes. “Besides, Wren is—”

“Spying on us for the past fifteen minutes?” Gabe cuts in, his lips quirking upward in a wry smile.

“What?”

“She’s terrible at hiding. It’s the squeaky shoes.”

Sure enough, a little face pops around the corner of the cracked door, her dark curls bouncing as she beams at us. I hadn’t even noticed that the sounds of children playing outside had died down, or that the sky had darkened enough for the streetlights to come on in the distance.

Wren is utterly unapologetic. “You guys were amazing! Are you going to play more? Can you play something from a Disney movie? Alina, do you know Moana ?”

“Wren,” Gabe says, shaking his head. “What did I tell you about eavesdropping?”

She pouts dramatically. “But I wasn’t eavesdropping! I was listening. Plus, you didn’t even close the door. How is it my fault that I could hear the music? The neighbors could probably hear it, too.”

With a jolt, I realize she’s right. Karina and Andy probably aren’t wondering about me at all, having heard the muffled sound of my violin through the walls of our shared accommodations.

What must they be thinking? How will I explain this to Karina when I can’t even explain it to myself?

Here I am, having a jam session with my favorite enemy, and I’m enjoying every second of it.

Gabe sighs at his daughter, rubbing a hand over his face. “Go get cleaned up for dinner, okay? Change your clothes, wash your hands. You know the deal. And please try your very best not to track too much sand into the bathroom.”

“Fine,” she grumbles. She flounces off, leaving us in silence once more.

I turn back to Gabe, unsure how to bridge the quiet gulf that’s formed between us. “She’s sweet.”

“She’s nosy,” he mutters, though there’s no real annoyance in his voice. She’s the light of my life, is what he means to say. I can tell.

His gaze shifts back to me. Still, neither of us speaks. The weight of what we just shared dangles in the air between us, taunting me.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “I forgot how different you are when you play.”

“Different how?”

“Not in a bad way,” he says quickly. “Just—it’s like you really let yourself go. You stop trying to control everything. There’s a softness to the way you handle the violin that isn’t present when you’re speaking.”

I laugh softly. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yes,” he says, leaning ever so slightly closer. His expression softens, his tone dropping an octave. “Alina, it’s beautiful. You’re beautiful when you let yourself be free.”

My chest tightens. I shake my head, trying to find a way to deflect the vulnerability in his tone. It’s an instinct. Feeling too deeply is a great way to get distracted.

And yet, with Gabe, feeling too deeply has often been one of my advantages. My hatred for him has often been a guiding light, a system of support that I can always lean on. Disliking him has been my favorite thing to do for many years, and that’s how I know that it was probably never dislike in the first place.

“Why are you saying this?” My voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere far away.

“Because it’s true,” he says simply.

My gut reaction is to argue, to shut him down before he can get too close to me. Something in his eyes holds me in place, though. There’s no malice, no competition. He’s being honest with me.

“I spent so much time trying to prove I was better than you,” I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Because if I wasn’t better, then what was the point?”

“Alina,” Gabe murmurs. “You were never just better than me . You’re better than everyone. You’re truly someone special. Not just as a violinist, either.”

The admission makes my stomach flip. “You never acted like you believed that.”

“Well, we’ve been too busy tearing each other down to see what we could have built together. And I was too busy grieving the things that were never meant to be. We’ve made a lot of mistakes where our thoughts and feelings have been concerned, but I guess that’s what it means to be human.”

His words stir something deep inside me—a truth I’ve been too afraid to face. I’ve spent years resenting him, but not because of his arrogance or his talent. I resented him because he forced me to confront the parts of myself I didn’t like. The ambition, the doubt, and the fear.

“We were mirrors,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “And I didn’t like what I saw.”

He nods. “It’s easier to fight than to understand, isn’t it?”

“But maybe we could stop fighting, though,” I say quietly, the words slipping out before I can think twice about them. “Maybe we could…”

I trail off. I have to take a deep breath, but then I’m doing it. I’m reaching for him. Biting my lip and trying not to let the nervousness take over, I place my hand on top of his where it rests on the piano keys.

“Maybe we could collaborate again in the future.” My heart is beating so loudly that I can’t even really hear myself speak. “There’s room in my contract for it, and I like—I like it. I like… you.”

Gabe’s eyes widen slightly. He looks as though he doesn’t know how to respond, and I suddenly wonder if I’ve made a monumental mistake. If I’ve read a little too much into everything.

But then he flips his hand over and entwines his fingers with mine. Gently, so as not to trigger my injury.

“You like me?”

My breath stutters on my next exhale. “Maybe.”

Gabe grins. “Maybe I like you, too.”

“Maybe I’ve always liked you, even while I hated you.”

“Maybe I feel the same way, Alina.”

“Maybe we could…”

He rubs the pad of his thumb against the back of my hand, and the sensation of his callused skin, hardened from a lifetime of playing various musical instruments, sends a thrill down my spine. I forget how to speak.

Gabe picks up the thread of my dropped sentence.

“Maybe we could do… this.”

He leans in, hooking the fingers of his free hand under the seat of my chair. With a quick tug, he pulls me closer. I gasp, letting go of his hand only to brace my hands on his shoulders to stabilize myself.

A surprised breath of laughter escapes me. He’s so close. Closer than he’s ever been. Green eyes. Dark hair. Golden skin. The papery scent of sheet music and the pleasant undertones of pressed linen. Him .

I don’t think. For the first time in my life, my mind goes quiet.

He kisses me, soft and inquisitive at first.

The world tilts and, just like that, there is only Gabe. His warmth, his presence, and the gentle pressure of his lips against mine.

It feels like coming home after a lifetime of wandering blindly through a dark forest. I lose myself in the way it feels to kiss him. To be this close to him and not be snarling or hissing or beating my fists against his chest.

Could it have been like this the whole time if we hadn’t been such cowards, or were we meant to go on our separate journeys before finding our way back to each other?

Somehow, I know it’s the latter. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

I move closer to him, and he tightens his arm around my waist as if to pull me right onto the piano bench with him, but then a small noise from the doorway captures our attention.

“Finally!” Wren yells, her voice breaking the fragile spell.

I jolt away from Gabe, heart pounding as I twist to find Wren clapping her hands and jumping in the doorway.

“Oh, goodness,” I breathe.

“I knew it! I knew you guys liked each other!”

Gabe’s face flushes as he shoots his daughter an exasperated look. “Wren!”

“What?” she says, grinning from ear to ear. “This is the best day ever!”

I cover my face with my hands, laughing despite myself. Gabe shakes his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re impossible,” he tells her. “I thought I told you to go clean up?”

“And I will ,” she replies with a cheeky wink. “But can’t you please kiss again? I missed the beginning. It’s like a real Disney movie happily ever after!”

“Absolutely not,” I groan, my voice muffled through my hands.

Gabe chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he looks at me. In the back of my mind, I’d been terrified of the challenges his single fatherhood might present if I dared to kiss him. Not because I saw it as a bad thing, but because I was terrified that Wren would hate the idea of it.

Clearly, I was wrong.

“Are you sure you really want to do this?” Gabe asks me, his tone a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.

I drop my hands and meet his gaze, my own heart still hammering. “I think I’m already in too deep.”

Wren lets out another cheer, darting into the room to wrap her arms around both of our middles.

“Best day ever,” she repeats, her voice muffled as she hugs us tightly.

Gabe glances down at her and then back at me, his expression softening into something that looks an awful lot like hope.

This feels right. It feels good.

I smile at him.

He smiles back.

And I know, with absolute certainty, that everything really is going to be alright.