“Go away, Ava.”
“No, I won’t fucking go away. I want to know what just happened back there. Because I’m confused. One minute, we were fine, and then I made a joke—which, granted, wasn’t my finest joke—but the next thing I know, everything has gone to shit. So, you’re gonna have to explain this to me because I’m in the dark here.”
His head turns, and he levels a dark look at me. “I don’t have to explain shit to you.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t! I fucking told you, I can’t do this anymore. End of.”
“No, it’s not end of just because you say so! There are two of us in this, Gabe! Not just you.”
He stubs his cigarette out and stands up. “But that’s just it. It is just me in this. Because you and I are just fucking, Ava. I might have said we’re dating, but we’re not. I fuck you because I can, and I tell you we’re dating to keep you happy. And, now, I’m done fucking you, so you can go.” He throws an arm in the direction of the door.
Pain ricochets through my chest, like he just shot me. But I hold myself together.
“You’re a fucking asshole, Gabriel! And you’re so full of shit that it’s pouring out of your ears! Say what you want, but I know you’re lying.”
“No, you’re just fucking deluded.”
“Fuck you. The only one deluded around here is you. And I know this has to do with me saying something about you paying me for sex. Because I saw your reaction the second I said it. I know you’re sensitive about it. I just don’t know why. But I know this”—I jerk a hand between us—“has something to do with you not wanting to pay me a salary while we’re sleeping together. So, you can try to tell me it’s not that and that you’re done with me, but I know it’s all bullshit. And, if you give a shit about me, you’ll tell me the truth. And if you don’t…then I guess we really are done.” I spin on my heel and walk away.
My heart is beating out of my chest, my pulse thrumming in my ears.
“Ava.”
I stop at the sound of my name, but I don’t turn around.
He sighs loudly. “Jesus. Okay! You’re fucking right! It is about that. About me being sensitive about the money-and-sex thing. I was being an asshole when I said I was done. I don’t want you to go.”
I turn around, but I fold my arms over my chest. I don’t want him to think I’ve forgiven him yet. “And?”
“And what?”
“Why are you so sensitive about the money-and-sex thing?”
He looks away.
“Gabe, you don’t have to tell me anything. I wish you would trust me enough to want to, but you don’t have to.”
His eyes snap back to mine. “It’s not about not trusting you. I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone.”
“Then, what is it?”
His eyes go to the floor. His hands on his hips, he heaves out another sigh. “I don’t want to change the way you look at me.”
I drop my arms and take a step toward him. “Nothing could change the way I look at you.”
He lets out a laugh, but it’s hollow and humorless. “That’s an easy statement to make when you don’t know everything.”
“So, tell me.”
He shakes his head, like he’s having an internal battle with himself.
“Gabe…”
“I used to sleep with women for money.”
“What?”
“And my parents are in prison for drug trafficking, racketeering, and murder.”
Ava
“I’m sorry, what?” Reeling from what he just said, I reach out for something to hold on to, but there’s nothing but air.
“Ava, do you need to sit down?”
“Uh, yeah. I think so.”
I walk over to the sofa on wobbly legs and sit down on the edge, fingers gripping it.
Gabe stays standing by the window. The light frames him, making him look incandescent. And beautiful. So very beautiful.
He’s not looking at me. His dark eyes are on the floor.
His words keep echoing around in my head.
“I used to sleep with women for money.”
“And my parents are in prison for drug trafficking, racketeering, and murder.”
I thought his parents were dead. Apparently not.
He’s not saying anything. I think he’s waiting for me to speak.
Honestly, I don’t know what to say.
But I go with the latter, as that seems more important. “So, your parents aren’t dead. They’re in prison,” I say in a quiet voice.
“Yes.” His voice is rough.
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
“How? Why?”