Forgiven (6 page)

It didn’t take long at Maggie’s office to do the contract. Gabby quickly changed moods when we got to her office, and then again when we got back into the car. I can tell she’s utterly exhausted. That’s usually what triggers her mood swings. Today has been a long day for her. She’s quiet on the short ride back to
Château Élan
to pick up her car. I really hate that we have two cars today. I hate being away from her.

As I pull into the parking lot, I glance over to her. She’s gazing out of the window. “Penny for your thoughts, Gabby Girl?”

She looks back to me and gives me a weak smile. “Just tired.”

“Hungry?”

“Famished is more like it,” she giggles.

“Me, too. There’s an Olive Garden off the Buford exit. Do you want to grab some dinner before we head home?”

She does that cute clapping thing that she does when she’s excited. “Yes.” Those hazel eyes widen as the excitement perks my girl up. “Yummy,” she cheers.

I chuckle at her adorableness. “Follow me, then. Exit 115, then a right, and then a left...you know in case you can’t keep up.” I wink at her. That car of hers seems to be working just fine, but it struggles when it goes over about sixty miles per hour. I have plans to buy her a new one for her birthday on March 12th. I still haven’t decided what I want to get her. Whether I want to buy it and surprise her, or whether I want to take her with me and let her pick it out. I smile because I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t. If I buy it and surprise her, she will be super overwhelmed. If I take her, she’s liable to insist she doesn’t need a new car. Although, I worried that would be her reaction tonight looking at houses and look at how well that went.

Well, she was apprehensive at Maggie’s office.
I hate that she’s so leery about good, exciting things. On the one hand, I don’t understand it, but on the other, I see why she feels the way she does. Everything that has ever been good in her life has been ripped from her grasps in a flash. I’m sure it’s hard for her to accept good things without waiting for the other shoe to fall. I’m done letting the other shoe fall for her, though. I’ll do everything in my power to keep her steady and on her feet.

Her laugh interrupts my thoughts. “What has you looking so happy all the sudden?”

Thinking fast is a talent of mine. “I love it when you do that clappy thing.” True statement because I do love it.

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she chuckles. She leans in and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Try not to lose me.”

“Oh baby, you have no idea how hard I try every day not to lose you.”

She doesn’t even turn back. “Not what I meant and you know it.”

“Be careful.”

“You, too,” she says as she climbs into her beat up Honda. When I see her lights turn on and hear her ignition start, I pull in front of her and head out towards the interstate.

I reflect back on our conversation, teetering on my decision as to whether I should tell her the craptastic news tonight about Veronica and the baby. Waiting to learn the paternity for another couple of months is going to be hard for me, but even more difficult for her. It means that she can’t forget about my past. That we can’t put Veronica out of our lives just yet. It means that she can’t bury Ian and the pain he continuously causes her.

We pull into the parking lot, and I am determined to get this off of my chest, to be honest with her. I’m going to tell her everything. I silently say a prayer that this goes much better than I anticipate as I climb out of my car and beep the alarm system. Gabby pulls in beside me. I open the door for her and help her out of her car. I put my hand in the small of her back and walk us into the restaurant.

Because it’s later in the evening, it’s not crowded. The hostess tells us there is no wait, which is good because I’m too hungry to wait a long time to be seated anywhere, especially in the middle of the week. When the young girl shows us to a table somewhat in the middle of the place, I ask, “Can we have a booth in the corner?” I point to the area I have in mind. “Maybe over there.”

She nods. “Sure.”

I want a place where I don’t feel like everyone is listening to our business. I put my arm out and gesture for Gabby to go ahead of me. I climb into the opposite side of the booth that she does. I usually like to sit beside her, but tonight I need to be able to see her when I talk to her without breaking my neck.

“Oh. You don’t want to sit beside me?” she asks.

She has no idea. I already miss being able to put my arm around her. “I need to talk to you tonight, and actually be able to think clearly.” I had really not planned on mentioning this until after I’d ordered and had a glass of good, red wine, but I’m not going to lie to her.

Her face turns from amused to serious. “About what?”

I look down at the table, releasing the white, cloth napkin from the silverware. “Ian and Veronica.” I glance up to her before placing the napkin onto my lap. I can see she’s already tensed up and cringing.

“What about ‘em?”

“I had called the attorney about the paternity --” I cut myself off from that subject when the waitress walks up to take our drink orders. “Do you want your usual?”

She smiles. “Yes, please.”

I tell the waitress what we want. She’s surprised when I spout out our drink and food order in one long run-on sentence. I needed to buy some un-interrupted time to finish this conversation. I want it behind us so we can move on and hopefully enjoy our dinner since the proverbial cat is out of the bag.

“Anyway. It turns out we can’t do the paternity test until Veronica has had the baby.”

Her brows furrow, and she starts to fidget. “Why?”

“The test they have to do on the baby is usually only done early in the pregnancy or at the very end.” I reach for her hand. “It’s an unnecessary risk to the baby at this point.”

The waitress comes back to the table with our drinks, breadsticks, and our salad. Gabby lets go of my hand and takes the tongs to mix the salad and then puts some on both of the plates the waitress also left on the table. She doesn’t even look up from preparing our food. She reaches for a breadstick and takes a bite. “So the soonest we can do it is after she delivers?”

She is being so difficult for me to read right now. I know this situation is still so fresh for the both of us. How do I expect her to react? I just hate that we have to be discussing this at all. “Right.”

“Well that sucks,” she says as she takes a bite of her food and looks out of the window.

I pick up my fork and start eating my salad. Gabby gives me the peppers and I give her my olives. I decide it’s best to just give her a few minutes to let it all settle. We both continue to eat in silence barely making eye contact with each other. I knew this was a bad idea to start this conversation today. I should have just waited until the morning.

I take a swig of my water and wipe my mouth. “Gabby.”

She glances at me before blankly looking back out of the window. “Huh?”

“Talk to me.”

She looks up to the ceiling and swallows. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything in particular. I don’t want you to run away from me, physically or emotionally.”

She doesn’t say a word. She’s driving me crazy. “Are you mad about having to wait or is it something else?”

Her eyes meet mine. She shakes her head and calmly says, “I’m not mad.”

“You’re something.”

“We had such a great day. Why’d you have to tell me tonight and ruin this, too?”

“It was eating me alive. I can’t keep crap from you to save my life.” I have to stop for a minute because I am almost irritated and I don’t want her to get mad if she isn’t already. “I hate secrets, Gabby.”

She nods her head. “Me, too.”

“So that’s why I had to tell you. I know this situation isn’t ideal. We’ll get through it, though.”

The server walks up with a large round tray of food. She places it down on one of those tray holders and says, “Shrimp Mezzaluna?” I point to Gabby.

The young girl serving us, who can’t be much older than Gabby, smiles flirtatiously at me. “And this Lobster Cannelloni with Shrimp must be yours?” Give me a break. I mean, could she be any more obvious that she’s flirting with me in front of my fiancée? Some people just make you want to shake your head, but instead I glance at Gabby and give her a look that I know she recognizes. A look that I couldn’t care less about anyone else. I look away from Gabby, smiling cordially at the server. “It is, indeed.”

The girl barely glances at Gabby then back to me, which just irritates the hell out of me. “Would either of you like any freshly grated Parmesan cheese?”

I defer to Gabby in an effort to make this girl leave me alone. “Gabby Girl?” I can’t help but playfully wink at her. She knows what I’m doing.

This lights up my girl’s face for the first time since the talk of the baby. She never takes her gaze off of mine. “Yes, please.”

“We’d both like some, please.”

I grin at Gabby.

Gabby finally tells her she’s given her enough, but not before the girl was probably thinking her arm was about to fall off.

When she starts on mine, she says, “Just tell me when, okay?”

I smile. “I like a lot, too.”

At this point, I can tell the girl is ready to get away from us just as much as we’re ready for her to leave. She’s grinding that damn cheese as fast as she can. It makes me chuckle. “That’s good.”

She plasters a fake smile and gathers her things to leave.

Gabby tilts her head to the side. “That was fun.”

I laugh. “Yeah, she needed to be put in her place. She was here to do a job, and that wasn’t to flirt with me.” I pick up my fork back up and take a bite of my piping hot food. It’s delicious. “Want some?” I hold up the next bite to her.

She leans across the table and opens her mouth with a smile. Ah, this feels good. I think I’ll just enjoy dinner until she brings it up again, or better yet, maybe I’ll change the subject to something that I know will make her happy.

She moans as she chews the bite and covers her full mouth with her hand. Her eyes widen. “That is so good. I’m getting that next time.”

“Ha, you want it? I’ll eat yours.”

“No. I’ll share, though, if you’ll share.”

“Deal.” We put the plates in the center of the table and take turns eating off of each other’s plates.

“So...” I take a bite. “I was thinking we could talk dates.”

She wipes her mouth and takes a sip of her drink. “Dates?” she asks as her brows furrow.

“Yes, dates.” I cock my head. She’s so cute when it takes her a minute to get obvious stuff like this.

Her eyes get big and she bursts out laughing. “Oh! Dates!”

I shake my head, then give her a playful sideways smirk. I nod. “Dates.”

“Tomorrow?” She giggles, and I raise my eyebrow. We’ve had this conversation. It’s tempting. “Kidding!” she gushes.

“When is your semester over?”

“End of April.”

“Would it stress you out too much to have it the second weekend in May?”

She smiles. “No, I don’t think so. Why the second weekend in May?”

I’m not sure how she will react to this, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I can’t think of a better way to honor her mother than to get married the day before Mother’s Day. “It’s Mother’s Day weekend.”

“Oh.” She looks down. “I should have known that.”

“No. I just figured...” Hell, here we go again. I toss my napkin down. I’m done anyway. I reach across the table and pull her chin up so she’s looking at me. “I figured...that we’d take a weekend that I’m guessing usually sucks for you and make it a happy one.”

A small smile forms. “I didn’t think about it that way.”

I let go of her chin and pick up her hand and bring it to my lips. “What do you say? Do we have a date?”

“We have a date.” She lets go and does her little cheerleader clappy thing that is so adorable and laughs. “We have a date!”

When the server comes back to the table I let her know that we need the check and a couple of boxes. All I want to do is get home, and fast. I lean over the table and pull her lips into a quick kiss. “Love you, Gabby Girl.”

She beams. That’s good enough for me. “Love you.”