Page 74 of Tattletale

“I’m not. I used to force myself to drink it because I thought it made my dad proud. When he died… I didn’t have to bother with it anymore.”

Gabriel places his large hand on my knee. “Were you and your dad close?”

“No,” I lie again. I snatch the croissant up from the table and stuff another big bite into my mouth. My stomach protests, but if I’m chewing, I can control the emotional outbreak in my expression. Once I’ve chewed and swallowed, I ask Gabriel, “What happened with your girl?”

“Woman,” he corrects. “She was a little older…and married.” He looks away, ashamed. “I know how that sounds, but please understand I was a nineteen-year-old boy who didn’t know any better. I thought she loved me. I thought she would choose me. It’s a mistake I’ll never make again.”

“Is that why you asked your server last night to—”

“Ensure you were single, yes. I can’t bear the idea of falling for yet another woman who isn’t mine to keep. It was excruciating.”

“How long did the affair go on?”

“Years,” he says. “We’d meet here in secret and spend the weekends together. It was always the same. Fuck, fight, then feast. She was my whole life. I would live for the weekends spent here with her. We’d only leave the bed to open the door for room service.”

“If you were so in love, why didn’t she leave her husband?”

“I still ask that question to this day.” Gabriel gives me a clipped smile, his jaw tensing. “Eventually, the guilt caught up with her. She left me, for good. I went through a dark time after that.”

“Why would you buy this place, then? Isn’t that holding on to painful memories?”

“After my business took off and I had more money than any sane human would know what to do with, I came back here to buy that.” Gabriel points over his shoulder, to the corner of the room. I was so focused on the ambiance and the food, I didn’t even notice the large, glass feature in the far-right corner of the dining area.

“Is that a—”

“Dollhouse? Yes. All made of glass. It was her favorite thing about this place. She was obsessed, really. She thought it was the most beautiful and peaceful thing she’d ever seen. A perfect house with glass walls. As a last-ditch effort to win her back, I wanted to see if I could buy it for her, but the entire display is anchored down. Moving that house would shatter it.”

“So, you bought the entire bed-and-breakfast instead?”

Gabriel nods. “I did. But it didn’t work. She never came back to me. Even still, I never had the heart to let it go. I even named it for her—Sugar.”

“Her name was Sugar?” I ask.

“Just a nickname,” he answers.

The look in Gabriel’s eyes tells me he’s still caught up on her. That makes my job a little harder, but at least a little less guilt-ridden. So, we’re both in love with other people. Perhaps he’s using me like I’m using him.

I point to the glass house. “Is that what inspired your club?”

He chuckles. “Am I that transparent?”

“Well, it’s a glass dollhouse…and you have a club with little glass rooms quite literally called The Dollhouse…so, forgive me if I’m reaching but…”

After studying the strain on my face, Gabriel bursts into laughter. “Some men go to therapy and work on their trauma. I, however, buy businesses and leave little pieces of my personal hell in each one.”

“Very inspiring.” I show him a small smile. I can’t stand his sad eyes, and the way he’s trying to laugh off a clearly painful memory. Gabriel and I might be more alike than I realized. I reach out and touch his forearm. “I’m sorry she didn’t choose you.”

“It’s okay. Lesson learned,” he says.

“What lesson?”

He gives me a pointed look. “I don’t do liars.”

My stomach churns. Maybe it’s the fact that I ate well past full. Or maybe it’s the way Gabriel’s looking at me like he’s about to call me on my shit. It’s unnerving. For the most part, this man is flawless, an absolute gentleman. But here and there, I see a dangerous flicker in his eyes that makes me think Vienne’s concerns are valid.

It’s just still too soon to tell.

“So,” Gabriel says, clapping his hands together loudly, making me flinch. “Your turn. I told you my sad story. Now, it’s your turn. How did your first love end, Fiona?”

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