“Your video,” he reminded her.
She groaned softly. That damned video! She’d posted it in a completely different mindset, before she’d heard his pragmatic description of their relationship. She thought about denying it but that was anathema to her. So she stayed quiet, the air between them crackling with emotion.
“I told you not to do that.”
Her eyes sparked to his. “You think it’s that simple?”
“I told you it was a bad idea.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t really a choice, Gabe. It’s not like I rolled a dice to decide if I’d love you or not.”
His nostrils flared. “This isn’t –,” he shook his head. “I’m trying to explain…”
“You don’t need to explain,” she hissed, then realising belatedly that they weren’t alone, that the staff were clearing tables around them, she lowered her voice. “I heard how you feel about me. You think you were just getting rid of Nico? I disagree. I heard the conviction in your voice, the truth underlying it. You wanted me to leave. You wanted me out of your life.”
“Si.” And despite everything, the abruptness of his answer tore through her.
Tears tingled behind her eyes. She blinked furiously, determined not to let them fall.
“God, Gabe.” It was a plea. Why was he here? Why had he come?
“I wanted you gone, but not because of you.”
“Oh, great. It’s not you, it’s me?”
“It’s true. I made a decision after Carmen died that I would never let myself have what she couldn’t. I pledged that I would never get married, never have children – everything I denied her I intended to deny myself. And then you showed up and for the first time in seven years I wanted to forget all about that pledge. I wanted to ignore what I owe Carmen and just be with you. All the time. Always.” He cleared his throat. “For the first time in seven years, I felt alive and…happy…and it was all because of you.”
She swallowed hard, her heart aching even as something like hope lifted her spirits, ever so slightly.
“I don’t deserve how you made me feel. So yes, I wanted you to leave again.”
“So you could forget all about me and go back to hating yourself for a goddamned accident?” She forgot to lower her voice; she no longer cared about being heard.
His silence was all the confirmation she needed. Hope died. He cared about her, she knew that was true, but it didn’t matter. He was determined to stay miserable and alone. He would push her away until she broke; and she’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.
“I couldn’t bear to know you believed what I said. That you didn’t mean anything to me. That I wanted you to leave. I couldn’t bear for you to think any of that was about you.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m so messed up, Isabella.”
“Yes, you are.” She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “You could have died that day, alongside Carmen. Does it ever occur to you that you should be living double your life – for her and yourself? That instead of acting as though you also died, you live your life as a tribute to her, doing everything she’ll never get the chance to do? You should live for her, love for her, smile for her, laugh for her. She doesn’t deserve to be the millstone around your neck, a burden you carry. She should be a gift you honour, someone you spend every day of your life paying tribute to by being your best damned version of yourself. Anything less is an insult. And to do that in her name? No way. If you want to be miserable, then do it for yourself. Don’t pin it on her.”
He stared at her in obvious shock. Her words whipped around the room, their reverberation and after affects like the clanging of a cymbal.
“It’s not—a millstone.”
“Yes, it is. You’re turning her into a burden you have to carry and no offense, but I doubt she’d be very happy with that. Live your life, Gabe. Live it with me, live it without me, but stop turning some poor woman into an excuse to wall yourself off from everybody. She deserves better.”
He looked towards the window, his profile tense.
“You got to live. You escaped. So live. You owe her that much.”
His eyes, when he looked at her, were so uncertain. She wanted to reassure him, to tell him that she was – unequivocally – right, but at the same time, her own hurts kept her still. She wasn’t sure she could take another rejection.
“Was there anything else?”
More surprise etched his features. “I – yes. Just – ,”
She waited, but it was impossible. He stared at her, and she sensed the world was careening off its axis for both of them. She pressed her palm into the ice-cold window, needing support.
He was searching for words, but Isabella couldn’t take any more of this. Gabe hadn’t changed. He wanted to live his life in misery and she couldn’t stick around and watch that. She loved him, but she needed to get away from him.
Self-preservation instincts took over.
“It’s late, and I’m tired. I want to go back to my hotel.”
“Wait.” He reached out, grabbing her wrist. The touch sent sparks of live electricity through her bloodstream, just as she’d known it would.
“Don’t,” she groaned, but without pulling away.
“You deserve better than this,” he said with a sound of impatience. “I wish I knew exactly how to say what I’m feeling, and what I want, but it’s all a jumble. Maybe I don’t have enough experience or maybe it’s just that what I feel is too enormous to be adequately filtered into words. Does that make sense? Maybe not. All I know is that I want to be with you. You turned my world upside down and my first instinct was to panic, and push you away, but when you left, I realised how wrong that was. I can’t – don’t
