Page 50 of A Lot Like Adiós
“That makes sense.” A car pulled out of a spot right in front of her building as they approached, and Michelle slid her car right in. “We’re here.”
Gabe peered outside and mumbled something about her being a parking psychic. She grinned and swung out of the car.
Michelle lived on the second floor of a redbrick five-story walkup. It wasn’t fancy, but the management company weren’t total dicks and the building’s super kept everything clean as a whistle. He was also Puerto Rican, and he said Michelle reminded him of his daughter, so nothing in her apartment ever stayed broken for long.
She used her keys to let them into the lobby, paused to check her mail since she hadn’t done it in a week, then led the way up the narrow staircase to the second floor.
“God, that ass,” Gabe muttered behind her, and she let out a surprised laugh.
At the landing, she unlocked the door to her apartment and was about to say “Welcome to my humble abode,” but what came out was “Mi casa es su casa.”
Oh god, she had not just said that.
She turned her face away as her cheeks heated. For one thing, it was the most cliché thing she could have said, even more cliché than what she’d originally intended to say. But it also didn’t sound like a joke, especially when he was currently staying with her at her parents’ house. Bringing him into her own space felt even more intimate than that.
She quickly stepped inside and turned on the light, illuminating her combination living/working/kitchen space.
“Shoes off,” she murmured, bending down to undo the straps on her sandals. Gabe unlaced his stylish leather sneakers and set them on the mat beside the door, next to a small basket of Jezebel’s toys. Then he straightened and took in the apartment.
Michelle was proud of her home. It was small, but it washers. She’d busted her ass to buy it, working long hours at the office while commuting from the Bronx and saving every penny she could. Sure, her living room also served as her office, the kitchen led right into the living area, and the bedroom was teeny tiny. But the apartment had high ceilings and got a fabulous amount of reflected sunlight through the living room windows. The street was quiet, and her upstairs neighbor was hardly ever home. Plus, it allowed cats. What more could she want?
She wondered how Gabe saw it. He probably thought it was too small, like her family did. That hadn’t stopped them from helping her with the down payment, though. Technically her dad owned a third of the apartment, but he said she’d saved him money by getting scholarships and choosing a state university, so he was happy to help. And owning real estate in New York City was always smart.
After moving in—and making a shit-ton of repairs and upgrades—Michelle had decorated slowly and thoughtfully. She didn’t want a home full of hand-me-downs from her parents or tías. That didn’t stop them from trying to push off everything from sofas to flatware on her, but she turned them all down, or donated the things they refused to take back.
She wanted her home to be hers. Every bit of it. From the black and white furniture with red accents to the explosion of houseplants hanging above her desk, which was positioned near the windows.
Gabe wandered a few steps in while Michelle fidgeted with her purse strap.
Nerves kicked in and she couldn’t stay quiet anymore, waiting to see what he thought. “It’s small but—”
“Really nice,” he said, sending her a quick smile. “It’s perfectly you.”
Fuck, her cheeks were getting warm again. “Thanks.”
She gave him the nickel tour, starting with the living room and her office setup.
At her desk, he crouched next to the ergonomic chair, eyeing the dual monitor setup critically. “This is an okay work-from-home setup, but you probably want to raise your main screen an inch or two and get a different mouse pad.”
“Sure thing, Dr. Gabe,” she teased.
He sent her an amused smirk that made his dimple flash, then peered around a little more. “To be honest, I thought there’d be more nerd shit everywhere.”
“It’s here and there, if you look closely.” She went over to the kitchen and took down the oven mitts to show him the tiny Mickey Mouse heads printed on them, black on red. “For example, all my kitchen textiles are Disney.”
“Classy.”
She put the mitts back on their hook and when she turned, Gabe was behind her.
Tension thickened the air around them, making her heartbeat quicken and her skin hypersensitive. All of her awareness narrowed in on her own body... and his.
“I need you, Mich.” His voice was raw with longing, and all she could do was close the distance between them.
He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Hismouth came down on hers and she shivered at the first taste of him. Her fingers were shaking when she reached up to tunnel them through his hair, and she clung to him to steady herself.
When he dragged his mouth away to press burning kisses down her neck, she struggled for air.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, and she realized his fingers were pressed to the pulse in her neck.
