Page 51 of If This is Love

“Good,” Gabe grunted. “Good for him. I caught some of my Marines saying shit like that once, and I made them fucking regret it.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. It stirs me up. Saying something like that around here will get you a boot in the ass.” He paused, his gaze shifting again. “Sorry. I’m trying not to swear around you, but yeah, I get what you’re saying. Stuff like that was why I never went back to church after my mama stopped dragging Luke and me there with her.” He screwed up his expression, his brow drawing low and his nose wrinkling up. “Seems kinda fu— I mean, messed up for some random dude in a pulpit to assume that he has any kind of authority to tell people who they can like or what anyone’s allowed to do in a relationship or how people are just supposed tobeother than just a decent human being. Somehow, I feel like God doesn’t give a fu— uh,crapabout stuff like that when there’s actual problems and people suffering in the world.”

“Exactly!” I blurted out, pitching forward and practically melting with relief that Gabe not only easily understood what bothered me about that part of it all so much, but also felt the same about it. Simultaneously, it made our whole friendship feel that much scarier because knowing he felt that way only made me like him that much more, and I already liked him so much it was terrifying. “And that was what happened all the time in my church. And Astrid, Michael, and I had this wonderful friendship for years, and we talked about things like that. It wasn’t a secret between us that Astrid loved Michael. Michael was so kind about it and made sure Astrid knew he loved him a lot even if it wasn’t the same kind of love that Astrid felt. We tried to make our home a safe place for him and other friends we encountered that needed a refuge from judgmental eyes and ears, and it was until Michael passed. Once he was gone, it was like Astrid and I were alone with the wolves.”

Gabe’s brows drew together even deeper this time. “Really.”

I had no idea what he was thinking, but his expression was nothing but attentive understanding. “Yeah. So, we didn’t fit in our roles very well. And there were roles for everyone. And if you were a woman, you couldn’t be alone with a man who wasn’t a relative or your husband. For example, I got in trouble with my father-in-law and my pastor because Astrid came over to my house shortly after Michael passed, and we were caught without a chaperone.” I turned my hand over. “That happened a few times, and the…the…”Lord,all of this sounded even more awful when I said it out loud even though when it happened, it was one of the worst moments of my life; almost as bad as losing Michael. “The consequences just…”

I abruptly shook my head, pressing my eyes shut, and this was so pointless. There was no way for me to easily explain everything in the span of a lunch break, so I just cut to the chase. “Basically, I’ve just been extremely sheltered for most of my life, so I don’t have a lot of experience with a lot of things, and I also still carry around the weight of judging eyes and ears, so I get a little nervous when it seems like… you know… I think someone might be… you know… I don’t know.” I stared at my water glass. “I embarrassed both of us on Sunday because I’ve got a lot of baggage from where I was before. That’s not an excuse, but I am sorry.”

A long silence stretched between us, and I stared at my water for a few seconds before picking it up to take a sip just to temper the awkwardness.

“Ruth,” Gabe eventually said, forcing my eyes to flick up to his. His arm was resting on the table, his chin in his palm while his fingers hid half his mouth. “I do not accept your apology.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “No?”

“Yeah, no. Your apology just now shouldn’t exist.”

My brows quirked together. “What do you mean?”

“Pardon my fucking French,” he went on, rubbing his fingers over his beard while his gaze speared mine, “but I don’t like the sound of whatever the fuck these fuckingconsequenceswere, and it sounds like the only people needing to apologize are the spineless, dickless men from your old church for making you feel like you did something wrong in any of those situations. So in light ofthat, as a man, I apologize on behalf of those spineless, dickless menandmyself, because what you’re trying to apologize for was my fucking fault, Ruth.Idid something that made you uncomfortable, andI’msorry for that.” He thudded his fist on the table. “Hard stop. End of story.”

All I could do was stare at him.

I don’t care if you’re my daddy,Michael’s voice from years and years ago echoed in my mind,if you don’t apologize to her this instant, I’ll walk away from all of this, and you’ll never see me again.

Heartache, anguish, grief, love, admiration, respect, and pride suddenly swirled like a hurricane in my chest, and my emotions hit me like a storm surge. I rolled my lips between my teeth, pressing my mouth shut firmly so I could hide the sharp, downward tug of my lips in an involuntary frown, a lump formed in my throat, growing exponentially by the second, and my eyes flooded so fast that I instantly dropped my chin.

I coughed into my fist to clear the lump from my throat, but my words still came out shaky. “Thank you. That’s so…so…”

Gabe practically leaped from his chair and marched to the bar, swiping a thick stack of napkins before returning. He sat back down, set the napkins in front of me, then picked up one and handed it to me. “It’s okay to cry here, Ruth. Hell, even I cried at this bar the day my wife left me.”

It’s okay if you cry, Ruth, a much younger version of Michael whispered in my mind,your mama died. I don’t care what the elders say, crying’s the right thing to do about someone dying. Even Jesus cried when his best friend died.

Between Gabe saying so many things that reminded me of Michael and thinking about this big, strong,kindman being so heartbroken over losing his wife that hecried…There was just no holding back these tears.

Keeping my face low, I unfolded the napkin and held it in front of my face while I silently screamed my tears into it to rid me of them as quickly as possible. I quietly panted between inaudible sobs, and I absolutelyhated myselffor losing control like this in front of him.

And whydidI hate myself for something like that anyway? I couldn’t imagine Gabe sitting over there hating me for crying any more than I’d hate him for crying here like he just said he did. That really was a good question.

I sniffled myself back under control and cleared my throat quietly while delicately dabbing below my nose and eyes. “Thank you. I decided just now I’m not going to say sorry for blubbering like this in front of you. I’m only a big ol’ mess like this because what you said means a lot to me.” I swallowed the lump as it tried to rise again. “You sound a lot like Michael when you talk like that, too, and that makes me happy even though…” I looked down at my hands as my bottom lip suddenly trembled like it was seizing. “You know… it’ll always be a little sad.”

“It’ll always be a lot sad, Ruth,” Gabe said matter-of-factly. I lifted my head to see him tilt his glass toward me. “It’s literally asadcrying shame when the world loses a good man while bad men still get to run around spreading their shit all over the place.”

His words resonated with me so much that I hummed in agreement. “Lord,amen, that is the truth.”

“Amen,” he said, tilting his glass toward me again, “and I’d like to salute the good man you lost.”

My lips spread with a huge involuntary smile, and I lifted my water, tilting the glass toward him. “I’ll drink to that.”

“To Michael,” he said, tipping his glass to clink against mine.

“To Michael.” I grinned so wide that my cheeks hurt, and somehow the ache in my cheeks made me forget about the ache in my heart for a minute. “Andto us and our new, sweet little friendship.”

“Orto alotmore than that!” Missy hollered from behind the bar alongside a rusty chuckle.

The muscle in Gabe’s jaw flexed as he rolled his eyes, and my face flamed.

“PardonmyFrench, but we have got some nosy-ass people in our neighborhood, Gabe.” I scoffed. “GoodLord.”

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