But what I did see on his face makes my stomach feel hollow.
He regrets kissing me last night.
My eyes move, and I see a glass filled with clear liquid on the table. I'd like to think it's water, but something tells me it's not.
"Morning," I say, my voice sounding rough.
I walk over to the railing and rest my arms against it, looking out at Hollywood.
I hear his glass clink against the glass tabletop as he picks it up, but he doesn't say anything.
Even though I feel a little sick inside, I force myself to turn around and face him.
I notice now that his hair is damp, and he's dressed smarter than he has been for the last couple of weeks. He's been wearing athletic shorts, as they're all he can get on over the boot, but today, he's wearing black cargo shorts and a white short-sleeved shirt.
He must have bathed without my help. And he had to have taken the boot off to get the shorts on and then put it back on. Couldn't have been easy for him to manage alone. Clearly, he didn't want me helping him.
I rest my back against the railing. I see Gucci is sitting by the pool, her head tilted to the side, watching me.
I look back to Gabe, who definitely does not want to look at me. "Have you eaten?" I ask him. "I can make breakfast-"
"I'm fine." Another drag of his cigarette. A tap to get the ash in the tray. Another drink of his liquor.
"Okay. Well, I was going to make coffee. Would you like-"
"I said, I'm fine." His eyes snap up to mine.
Well, at least he's looking at me now, but honestly, I wish he weren't.
His eyes look hard and cold. A complete contrast to how he was looking at me in the dark of his room last night.
A chill coats my skin even though it's warm. I rub my hands over my arms.
He looks away, drains his glass, and puts out his cigarette. Getting his crutches, he gets to his feet. "I have a few meetings today, so I'll be out for most of the day."
He never said anything yesterday about having meetings today.
A little voice whispers in my head, He wants to get away from you.
"Oh. Right. Do you need me to drive you?"
"No. I arranged for a driver to take me." He starts to head for the door to go back inside.
"What should I do today then?"
He stops moving, the line of his shoulders taut. "Do whatever the fuck you want, Ava. You don't have to check with me. I'm not your boyfriend."
And there it is.
"But you are my boss." I force my voice to sound stronger than I feel.
The silence that follows is intense and painful.
"Then, as your boss, I'm telling you to take the fucking day off," he bites out.
Then, he's gone, and I'm left standing here.
I go over to the table and pick the glass up.
Vodka.
I grab the ashtray and take that and the glass inside where I wash them out. I feed Gucci.
Then, I stand here, in his apartment, feeling hurt and a little lost, not really sure what to do with myself.
Ava
After feeling sorry for myself for a few minutes, I got mad with the big jerk and decided to do what he'd said to do. So, I took the day off.
Gucci and I went to a dog park and had fun. A lot of people were interested in her, so I got to chatting with a few of them, which was nice, and it took my mind off of Gabe the asshole.
After I dropped Gucci back at the apartment and fed her a lunch of hay and carrots, I went shopping alone.
Solo shopping always helps to perk me up.
I bought some new pajamas and sunglasses. And a pair of Choos that I couldn't afford. Also, I bought Gucci a new coat and a water bowl.
When I was done, I stopped and had sushi.
I didn't really feel that hungry, but I thought I'd better eat.
When I finally came back to the apartment, I was expecting to encounter Gabe. But there was just Gucci waiting for me.
So, I let her out onto the terrace, cleaned up after her, and then made her dinner. Then, I got started on dinner for Gabe and me. Even though I wasn't hungry, I figured he would be.
Turned out, I was wrong because he didn't come home for dinner.
I broke down and texted him at nine to check if he was okay. But he never replied.
And, now, it's ten thirty, and he's not back. He's been out all day.
Even though I'm still mad at him, I am getting kind of worried.
I know he's a grown man, but he's also on crutches, and getting around for him isn't the easiest.
I'm not really sure what to do.
I'm sitting on the sofa with Gucci when there's a commotion of voices and laughter in the hallway.
Picking up Gucci, I get to my feet just as Gabe comes hobbling into the living room, minus his crutches, with about ten people accompanying him. And one of those people is beautiful and tall and blonde, and he has his arm around her.
Just like he had it around me last night.
Pain and jealousy shoot up my spine.
"Speedy." His voice slurs a little, and there's a smirk on his face, but nothing's cheery about the way he's looking at me.
His eyes are cold and empty. Like he's telling me with his stare that he doesn't care about me or what happened between us last night.
And it really fucking hurts.
"Is that a goat?" the woman propping him up says.
I ignore her.
"Where are your crutches?" I ask him.
He shrugs. "I lost them."
"You lost them? How the hell do you lose a pair of crutches?"
"I don't know, Mom. I just did."
The blonde laughs. Gabe slips out from under her arm and walks-well, staggers closer to me. He reeks of liquor and cigarettes.
"Now, be a good little employee, and get my guests some drinks." He taps me on my nose with his fingertip and moves past me.
Um, what the fuck just happened?
I turn, my eyes following him. "What the hell was that?"
He stops and looks back to me. His eyes are almost black.
His friends have all scattered around the living room, some going out onto the terrace.
"I said, get my guests some drinks. You work here, right?"
"Last I knew, I was here to care for you, not be a waitress for your friends."
His face darkens. "Fine. I'll get their fucking drinks." He hobbles away, in the direction of the kitchen.
I go to my room and put Gucci safely in there, and then I go into the kitchen to find him pouring drinks.
"Where have you been?" My tone is snippy.
"Out," he answers without looking at me.
"I got that. But all day? I thought you just had a few meetings, and then you'd be home. I was worried. I texted you."
His eyes lift to mine. "My phone died."
I try to control my temper and soften my voice, but it doesn't work. "And you couldn't borrow a phone to let me know you were okay? You must've known I would worry."
"No. I didn't know. Because you're not my fucking wife!" he roars.
The force of his anger takes me back a step.
Tears hit the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to cry. "I know I'm not."
"So, stop fucking acting like you are!"
"I'm not!" I yell back, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "I'm just trying to be a good friend."
His hard eyes burn into mine. "But that's just it. We're not friends, Ava. You work for me. End of story."
Well, if that isn't a slap in the face. My face stings with the pain from his words.
"Okay." I wrap my arms around my chest. "I understand."
"You understand what?"
"That you're a heartless fucking bastard!" I spin on my heel and start to walk away.
He laughs harshly. "I never once claimed to have a heart. And do you talk to all your bosses that way, Speedy? Maybe that's why you got fired from your last job."
That has me stopping and turning back to him. Undiluted rage is burning in my veins. "My last boss would never have treated me the way you just did."
Some unnamed emotion flickers across his face. "I don't have to put up with this shit," he bites.
I laugh. There's no humor in it. "That makes two of us. And you don't have to worry about putting up with me anymore. Because I quit." I stare him hard in the eyes. "Clearly, you don't need me to take care of you anymore. You look like you're doing just fine. So, I'll be out of your hair in the morning." I don't give him a chance to say anything in response. I storm out of the kitchen and to my room, and I slam the door shut. I fall back against it, breathing hard.
Fucking asshole!
Tears fill my eyes. But I won't cry. I won't fucking cry.
I press the palms of my hands to my eyes, stopping the tears from coming, and I take cleansing deep breaths.
I feel Gucci nudge her head against my leg. I move my hands from my eyes, and she's staring at me.
"I made us homeless again," I tell her. "I'm sorry, baby girl. But I'll figure something out. I always do."
"Baaahhh."
I like to think she's telling me it's okay, but then she nudges my leg again and trots to the door, giving it a butt with her head, and I know she needs to go outside.
"Ah, right now, Gucci?" The last thing I want to do at this moment in time is go out there.
"Baaahhh."
"Crap," I mutter. "Okay."
I grab a hoodie, the elevator key, and my cell. I slide my feet into my flip-flops. Then, I pick Gucci up and leave my room.