"Even if you didn't come alone," Ida added. "But we're pleased you sent him away."
"Olivia didn't send Ricky away," Gabriel said. "He will return tonight. I trust that won't be a problem."
"We would rather--" Walter began.
"I trust that won't be a problem," Gabriel said, enunciating slowly.
The Clarks looked at each other, undoubtedly seeing their fae-baby dreams pop like soap bubbles.
When they didn't respond, Gabriel continued. "If Olivia chooses to come to Cainsville, she may bring whomever she likes. If she cannot invite whomever she likes, then she'll need to find a home where she can, and I will help her do that. Is that clear?"
After a long pause, Ida spoke, so grudgingly the words seemed to be dragged out with an industrial winch. "Yes, that's clear, Gabriel. We'll respect your wishes."
"They're Olivia's wishes."
A glimmer lit her eyes. "That's why you're insisting, then. Not because you agree about him, but because it pleases Olivia--"
"They're our wishes," he said. "Ricky Gallagher is an associate of mine and I do not appreciate hearing him maligned."
Something like alarm passed behind Ida's gaze. "Because he's your client? Or your friend?"
Gabriel rocked back, as if flinching from the word.
I cut in. "This isn't about friendship or a lack of it."
"Actually, yes, it is." Ida looked at Gabriel. "Do you consider Richard Gallagher a friend?"
"I don't see how that's important," I said.
"It's very important."
I shook my head, said, "We're done here," and let Gabriel steer me past them and out the garden gate.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Are we okay?" I asked Gabriel as we walked back to Rose's.
Dusk was deepening to night, but he still had his shades on. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"We've had a rough couple of days," I said. "The visions, Macy, Todd, James. It's been a roller coaster. Between us, too. We're fine and then . . . we're not. I know that's because of everything that's happening. Stress and tension. But I feel as if I'm the one instigating it--"
He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket. "You aren't. It is, as you said, fallout from the situation. For both of us."
"Then what I'm trying to say is that I understand if you need a break. From the strain. From the angst. From me."
That wall behind his eyes shot up. "If you mean that you need a break--"
"If I needed one, I'd say so."
"If I want one, I will take one."
"Sorry. I'm just feeling a little frazzled."
"And I'm not helping."
"Sometimes . . . ?" I shrugged. "But ninety-five percent of the time? I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'd manage," he said.