Page 64 of One Night with Cinderella

“It’s time for the toast,” Frank said.

Gabe eyed two servers bringing trays of champagne-filled flutes from the bar. Just as planned. In attendance were a well-known food critic and a couple of members of the press given exclusive access to the opening. “One moment,” he said without a second thought.

Frank looked concerned. “I don’t know if I can hold them, Gabe,” he said.

But he had already turned back to Monica, only to find she was gone. The remembered look of disappointment in her eyes fueled him as he took the few steps to yank open the copper-trimmed glass door to step out onto the street. His heart wildly pounded as he looked left and then right. She was nearing the corner to cross the street.

“Monica!” he called to her.

She stopped and turned.

The streetlamp above her highlighted the track of a tear, like the twinkle of a star. A visceral pain radiated across his chest as he rushed to her.

“I shouldn’t have come,” she said, raising her hand to her face.

Gabe covered it with his to lower it. He used his free hand to capture the tear with his thumb as his eyes moved over her face, taking in everything. His gaze lingered on her mouth. “I’m glad you came,” he admitted in a whisper. “You coming into my life in the first place gave me the courage to do it all.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly as she gripped his hand and slowly removed his touch. “I came. I ate some really great food. I saw you. I said my congrats. And now I’m leaving, Gabe.”

“No, don’t leave me,” he pleaded, not allowing shame or ego to make him act a fool again. “The worst mistake I ever made was not fighting for us that night. Forgive me.”

Monica gasped and then winced as she took a deep breath. “Gabe,” she began.

“I thought you were angry at me. I thought you never wanted to see me again. I thought I hurt you so bad that I didn’t have a right to convince you that I realized I love you,” he said, holding tight to her hand and massaging tiny circles on the back of it as he enjoyed the simple physical connection. “Forgive me.”

Monica kept her eyes closed as if it pained her to even look at him.

That hurt. But he understood it.

“Damn it,” she swore as her shoulders slumped and she allowed her head to rest against his chest.

He rested his chin atop it. “Forgive me,” he begged.

“Gabe.”

He heard Frank behind him but ignored him as he waited for Monica to honor his request. He wanted her back in his life more than everything, and he refused to give up the opportunity to fight for her for anything.

“I was a fool, baby, please,” he stressed, easing back from her enough to press his hand to her face to raise it.

Her eyes remained closed.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

Slowly, she did.

It was his turn to gasp as he looked into the brown depths of her eyes and saw every bit of the love she had for him. It was pure and real...and fierce. That he knew without her speaking. It was the epitome of wearing her heart on her sleeve.

Relief coursed over him until he felt strengthened and weakened all at once.

“Gabe!”

Monica leaned to the side to look past him. “They need you back at the restaurant,” she said, as she looked back up at him.

“It can wait. Nothing matters to me more in this moment than you,” he said steadfastly.

She looked at him again.

When her eyes widened in surprise, he turned, as well, to find his mother guiding Frank back inside the restaurant.

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