I shudder at his words. “I am yours. I’ve been yours for a long time. I would never allow anyone to think differently.” I reach out and rest my hand on his thigh before giving it a squeeze. “I’m so in love with you I can’t think straight most days. Literally, I’ve spent actual days thinking about you and me and us and trying to make sense of these very wrong yet very real feelings I have for you. You’ve been the center of my life for years and you think some guy I was never interested in to begin with has the power to turn my head? What, because he’s interested? James, guys have been interested. For years. And yes there were times I may have been interested as well, but none of them ever held a candle to you. I never thought you’d actually become an option for me. And now you are and…I don’t want anyone else. Even now, you hold so many of my firsts because all I ever wanted was you.”

He clears his throat and shakes his head. “Gab,” he murmurs.

“Do you want me to tell him I have a boyfriend? That I’m seeing someone in New York?”

“No because that will somehow get back to Mom and she’ll be all over you.” That’s true. Mom and Monica would have a million and one questions.

“I’ll take that over dealing with a bunch of awkward interactions or trying to ward off his attempts to change my mind after I tell him I’m not interested.”

“Can’t you just not call him?” he says shooting me a look as he pulls into the grocery store parking lot.

“I wouldn’t call him anyway. What am I, old?” A smirk finds my face and a giggle forms in the back of my throat.

“Gabrielle you know what I mean.” He shoots me a look as he turns off the car. “Can you just ghost him via whatever communication?”

“Fine, but he’ll probably come back again,” I tell him as he opens the car door for me. “Thank you.” He says but I can still hear the annoyance in his voice. I bump his hip with mine and I reach for his hand without thinking. I can sense his discomfort and I frown when he drops my hand completely.

“You’re really that annoyed about it?” I ask him. “Don’t be such a brat. I’ll ghost him!”

He turns to look at me just before we walk into the store. “Gabrielle,” his voice lowers and he leans down so that we are at eye level, “we’re four and a half minutes from our house. I’ve never gone into this grocery store and not seen someone we know. The store manager plays golf with Dad from time to time. We cannot hold hands in here.”