“You went to him on our wedding night, Lo.”
“Because I was angry. I was pissed at him for taking a day that was supposed to be about you and me and turning it into shit.”
“You went to his house in the middle of the night instead of talking to me.”
“I couldn’t fucking talk to you, Gabe. You were blackout drunk!”
He reels as if I just dealt a physical blow, and then he nods and moves around the cabin, throwing together our stuff.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing our shit. No reason to stay here any longer,” he says through clenched teeth. “Honeymoon’s over, right?”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Lo
The drive back to LA was just as awful as expected. Gabe and I weren’t talking, I slept fitfully most of the way, and all the fun and laughter we’d shared on the way to Tahoe was so far removed from the return trip.
Just outside of LA, my cramping had increased, and instead of going straight home, Gabe drove us straight to Sinai. The nurses on call had been concerned enough to admit me, and Gabe had disappeared soon after I was settled into an uncomfortable hospital bed saying he was heading home to get me some fresh clothes and things, but I already had everything I needed with me from our disaster of a honeymoon. That had been last night.
Now, my door opens. I expect it to be Gabe, but Arturo walks in wearing a sharp gray suit and holding the biggest bunch of flowers I think I’ve ever seen.
I glance at the pink peonies in his hand and swallow hard. “What are you doing here?”
“I came as soon as I heard. Your friend Clementine visited me at the restaurant.”
Goddamn it, Clem.
“Apparently you failed to tell her that you quit.”
Oh shit. “What did you say to her?”
“I didn’t tell her that you accosted me at three a.m. at my back door ... if that’s what you mean?”
“Accosted you?”
“Nor did I tell her that the woman you accused me of fucking was my sister.”
Ice water creeps down my spine. “What?”
“She was on my doorstep when I got home from your wedding. Had left her phone in Mexico when she fled her abusive husband so she couldn’t call to give me a ... heads up. She was certainly curious about you, though.”
I cover my mouth with my hand and hope like hell I’m still pale enough to overlook how the blush creeps into my cheeks. “Oh my god, Arturo. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, mi corazón. You were right. I was a fucking bastard. I should have kept my feelings to myself.”
“I shouldn’t have come banging down your door in the middle of the night. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
His smile is tight as he sets the flowers on the tray table beside my bed.
“Are they for me?” I ask, eyeing the flowers.
He chuckles, low and deep, and it does things to my insides that I have no right to be feeling. “Well, they’re not for my sister.”
“Thank you.”
“Does this mean you’ll come back to work for me when you get on your feet?”