Page 90 of Tattletale

“Well, that’s handy.” I set his tray on the large nightstand, then take a seat on the edge of the bed next to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Embarrassed.” Gesturing to his clean white T-shirt, he asks, “I can’t seem to remember. Who changed me last night?”

I shrug innocently.

He laughs. “How much did you see?”

Okay, yes, I saw Gabriel’s dick last night, but I hardly remember it. I can’t tell you if he was big or small, shaved or hairy. I was simply a nurse to a patient. Everything else was a blur. But of course, I don’t tell him that. “I was solely focused on getting you dry and comfortable. You were not easy to move, by the way. I think I threw my back out, trying to pull your pajama bottoms on.”

His jaw drops, then morphs into a playful smile. “Are you fat-shaming me?”

“Not at all. More…muscle-shaming, if anything.” I scrunch my nose at him.

“I can’t believe you’re still here.” He shakes his head, wearing a solemn, miserable expression. “I was such a jackass last night. I promise you, I’m never like that.”

I pick up the glass of orange juice and hold it out in front of his uninjured hand. “Maybe you should be a jackass more often. Seems like you’re bottling a lot up. If you’d let loose here and there, maybe your outbursts would be less bloody.”

He pauses before sipping his juice. “All I know is that you are incredible. Did you custom order this from the restaurant? They don’t have quesadillas on the menu.”

I cock my head to the side. “You didn’t hear me in the kitchen? I made this from scratch.”

Gabriel widens his eyes. “You’re kidding. I didn’t take you for the domestic type.”

“Surprise, surprise.” I glare at him, unappreciative of his subtle jab.

He laughs. “A new chef on the one day my poison taste tester is off work.”

“What a shame. I guess you’ll have to risk it.”

Gabriel’s grin flattens as he looks into my eyes. “On a serious note, can we forget about last night and start over?”

I smile and tap his nose, the same way he did mine last night. “No need. We’re still friends.”

Gabriel scoffs softly. “I don’t want to be your friend, Fiona. I want to be much more than that.”

My eyes fall to my lap. “Gabriel… Just last night, you were crying over another woman—”

“It’s over. It’sbeenover—”

“And I told you I was in love with another man.”

His eyes darken as he wets his lips, buying a moment to compose himself. He does this often. Right when he’s on the brink of rage, he collects himself. “I must’ve missed that part. Let me ask you a question…” Gabriel hands me the glass of orangejuice so I can set it back on the tray for him. After fishing under the covers, he pulls out a piece of paper indented with small square fold lines everywhere. It was folded small enough to fit into a wallet.

I check the nightstand on the other side of Gabriel, where Lance’s wallet was. It’s gone. And the piece of paper Gabriel’s holding was most definitely stolen from it.

“What is this cutesy shit?” The condescension is bleeding through his tone.

“A movie list,” I answer.

“That he made for you?”

“That’s personal.” I reach for it, but he crumples the list in his hand.

“Fiona, how about you try a real man? He makes you movie lists. I could make you into a movie star. He gets jealous at a little competition. I have no competition. He’ll never compare. He will never love you and take care of you like I can. I’m the best choice.” While his words are somewhat arrogant, his tone is pleading.

“Why do I get the feeling it’s not the first time you’ve given that speech?”

Gabriel’s stare bores into mine as the corner of his lips turn down. “What does that mean?”

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