Riley

After Gabriel leaves, I sit in my apartment, drinking coffee and feeling conflicted. Something about this morning doesn't sit right with me. Maybe it's the way he gave me an orgasm then without missing a beat, immediately mentioned Catherine.

Had he been thinking of her while touching me? It's possibly my worst fear.

I think, eventually, the two of you can be friends, he'd said.

Friends with a woman who considers my boyfriend her muse? Yeah, right.

Friends with a woman who showed up at her estranged father's funeral to tell my boyfriend that she was in love with him? What the hell?

Friends with a woman who is tiny and beautiful, looking like a porcelain goth doll — pretty much the opposite of me? Come on.

Normally I understand where Gabriel's coming from. When he tells me he doesn't want me to be involved in his business, I get it.

But this? It's a big ask.

Then again, he's given me no reason to doubt him. He's been honest, for the most part.

"Except for the mafia part," I snort aloud.

I finish my coffee and wonder what, exactly, I'm doing. I adore Gabriel. I love Gabriel. I'm head-over-heels, deep in lust, butterflies in tummy kind of love.

Because of that, I'm going to trust him and contact Cath. My editor does want the story on her gallery soon, because it opens this coming weekend. It would be difficult to explain why I went to the interview, fled, then didn't write about her.

I pick up my phone and find Cath's number, then tap out a text.

I'm sorry about being pulled away on another assignment the other day. Would you be willing to continue the interview sometime soon? I still want to write about your gallery.

Her response is immediate. Of course! How about drinks tonight?

* * *

We meet at a lounge downtown, an upscale hipster place with a rooftop bar. We sit up there, at a high-top table with a vista of the entire city. From this vantage point, the twinkling lights make everything look like a dream. The downtempo lounge music adds a languid, sensual vibe to the place, and I idly wonder if Gabriel's ever been here.

Probably not, is my guess. He only goes out if he has a purpose, and when he wants to lounge with a cocktail, there's no better place than his terrace. My guess is that he wouldn't enjoy how the tables are so close together, how packed it is, how everyone here seems to be trying so hard.

He doesn't know I'm here tonight. All I told him was that I had a late interview. Then again, if he had lunch with Cath like he said, he knows exactly where I am and what I'm doing.

Even though I swore I'd never drink again after this past weekend's debauchery, when Cath asks me what I want, I study the menu and settle on a drink called The Second Chance.

"Ooh. Passionfruit, lime, mint, rum, and coconut rum. Make that two," Cath says to the waiter, snapping the menu shut. "And can we also get some snacks. Like nuts or chips or something salty and crunchy?"

She waves her black-tipped nails in the air, as if she's casting a spell on the waiter. He grins and says of course.

Once he's gone, Cath and I stare at each other. She's really something to look at, a petite woman who is impeccably made up. Tonight she's wearing black lace bell bottom pants, a red velvet blazer, and what looks like a black lace corset underneath. Her hair is long, black, and wild, and there are at least a dozen necklaces draped over her chest.

Everyone is staring at her, either because she's so out of place in this buttoned-up, after-work crowd, or because she's so gorgeous. I feel like a giant next to her, a big blonde hulk.

Probably it's best if I get this over with. "Would you mind if I take notes? I want to write down some details about the gallery opening."

Her face lights up. "Of course I wouldn't mind."

I pull my notebook and a pen out of my bag and ask her to talk about the party that's coming up. She's quite animated as she talks about how she's found an amazing caterer, and a bartender who will do "smokey cocktails."

I tilt my head. "Smokey cocktails?"

"They use smoke to mingle with the flavors of alcohol. The one I've had in California was an Old-Fashioned, but there's smoke in half the glass. It's so beautiful and dramatic. I hope you can come to the party so you can to try one."

I silently groan to myself. Is Gabriel going to want to attend the gallery opening? Will he ask me to go? I can't figure out which would be worse: if he wants me to go with him, or not.

"Tell me more about the artwork on display."

She talks for a while about her own paintings that will be on display, then about another, local artist that she's showing. I write everything down. She seems to know her stuff, and she speaks without bravado or bluster. In fact, she's pretty humble about all of the awards and accolades she's received for her art. She doesn't offer any details, and it seems like I have to drag them out of her with question after question.

"My work started to gain traction, then I was named to the board of an arts council," she said.

"What was the name of the council?" The former crime reporter in me knows I should check at least some of her details to make sure she isn't lying. Anyone can lie about anything, I've discovered.

"The California Arts Council. You've probably never heard of it, but it was a statewide thing. I eventually became chair." She shrugs like it was no big deal, but I know otherwise.

"Wow, you were the chair of the California Arts Council?" That seems to be a pretty big deal.

She lifts a shoulder. "It was a charity thing."

"So why would you leave a place where you're so well-known, for this?" I sweep my hand in the air. "It's Tampa. It's not exactly an arts Mecca. You could've gone to Miami, even."

She stares at me for a beat, and I wonder if my biggest fear is about to come true: that she's going to say she's here for Gabriel.

"I'm from Florida, and although I had a rough time of it for a while here, I felt like it was time to come home. This is more affordable, and I knew Gabriel would help me with the gallery."

She knew he would help her, despite not having any contact with her for years? My bullshit detector is going off, but I nod and pretend to take a few notes.

The waiter returns with our drinks — I swear this has been the slowest service I've ever experienced — and we gush over how pretty they are.

Cath holds up her cocktail. "To my new friend, Riley."

"To new friends," I respond.

We take sips of our drinks.

"It tastes like..." she takes another sip.

"Sugary sunscreen lotion?" I offer.

That makes her crack up. We spend the next half hour talking about the gallery party, about the best places for boba tea in the city, and discover that we both love a certain anime program.

I'm starting to like her, even though I don't want to. Even though I don't trust her.

* * *

We order another drink, and as we're chatting and finishing, my phone pings. It's Gabriel.

Are you finished with your interview? Do you want to come over?

Without thinking, I smile at my phone then glance up. Cath is looking at me with a small, sly smile.

"Sorry, let me return this text."

Sure, I'll be there in less than an hour.

Can't wait, because I've been thinking of you all day, ever since this morning. Also, I *might* have bought you a toy today, so I'd like you to come play

At the mere mention of what Gabriel and I did in my bed earlier, a heat blooms in my belly and spreads lower. I slide the phone back into my purse.

"So," I say, feeling self-conscious, as if she can read my dirty thoughts.

She smiles. "I'm so glad we could get together. I haven't been out at all since I moved back, mostly because I've been spending all my time getting the gallery ready to open. Well, and because I don't know anyone."

"Other than Gabriel." I don't mean for this to come out as pointed as it does.

"Riley," she says softly, her long, black eyelashes fluttering. "We probably should talk about Gabriel."

Okay, this is happening. The confrontation. The reckoning. Not exactly how I imagined it, but whatever. I don't say anything, just sit there and smile stupidly.

"We had lunch today," she says.

I nod. Funny how he didn't tell me about that when we texted back and forth a couple of hours ago. Although I can't entirely fault him; he did tell me he was planning to meet with her. He must know we're together tonight.

"I didn't fully grasp the extent of your relationship."

I frown, then nod. "I see."

"I've known Gabriel since, well, since my earliest memories. Our fathers were business associates and dear friends. Our families were close, our mothers would go on vacation together. He was like my brother. His sister was like my sister."

"That's... nice."

"He grew up here in Tampa, and although I was born and raised on the other side of the state, in Jacksonville, we still saw each other often. I was homeschooled off and on because of my art, and so I'd often stay at his house while we were growing up."

I lean in. "What was he like as a kid?"

Might as well try to glean information from her.

"He was..." her voice fades, and her expression grows soft, almost wistful. "He was intense. Quiet but not shy. Strong but not obnoxious, like many boys often are. And when he became a teenager..."

She shakes her head.

"What? What was he like then?"

"A lot like he is today. Magnetic. Alluring. In possession of a raw, unique power. Some of that is because of his privilege and how he grew up, his family. He's like a king here in this city. Well, back then, his father was king, and he was a prince."

I hesitate, then dive in. "You fell in love with him."

She nods, slowly. "I know this must be difficult for you to hear, but yes. I did. We were teens."

My eyes widen, and she laughs. Not maliciously, but kindly. "Don't worry. Nothing happened between us. Nothing ever happened. Our relationship evolved into a deep friendship, and he became almost like a father, or a protector."

I have so many questions. Dozens. Hundreds. For once, I'm stunned to silence, not sure what I should ask next. I choose the easiest, or what I think is the most simple.

"Between us. Woman to woman. Has he ever been in love with anyone?"

She picks up her empty glass and stares into it, shaking the ice. "Gabriel has been in lust with many, many women. It was one of the things that I didn't like about him. The only thing. So, to answer your question, no. I don't think he has. Although of course we haven't seen each other for many years, so I could be wrong."

Somehow this is not entirely the answer that I wanted. "Is he worth my time?"

"Riley, of course he is. Gabriel is a complex man. But if he lets you into his heart, the way I think he has with you, he's definitely worth your time. I can't tell you how long it will last between the two of you. And I'm truly sorry we had that encounter at the gallery the other day. It wasn't planned, wasn't intentional. All I know is that if he cares about you, he'll go through walls for you. He will defend you to the death. God knows he did with me."

Her face morphs into a mask of serious, grave sadness, so much that I'm almost shocked.

"What did he do for you?" I'm barely breathing now. The noise of the bar, the buzz of the city below, has fallen away. All because of the look on Cath's face.

She gnaws on her bottom lip for an excruciatingly long time. I stare at her, waiting for her answer. Praying it isn't something horrible.

"He's going to have to tell you himself. I'm sorry."