I toss my phone onto my bed and sigh loudly. Until I know for sure that Dorian has my best interests at heart, I have to be smart. I have to ask him. Time to put my big girl panties on and face the giant elephant that’s been suffocating me with its annoying presence. This is a conversation that can’t be had over the phone. No, I have to look him in his mesmerizing ice blue eyes when I ask him to tell me what he is. And whatever that truth may be, I have to either deal with it and accept him wholeheartedly, or I have to walk away from the one man who has shown me more passion than I could ever imagine. The outcome may crush my heart and kill my spirit completely but continuing down this path of denial could very well get us both murdered.
As the week drones on, I engulf myself with studying for finals and tying up loose ends at work before resigning. My parents are more attentive than ever, calling and checking up on me every other hour. Lucky for them, I’m taking the threats more seriously now that it has literally hit home. Plus I want to ensure them that I am still the same old Gabs, and have been making more of an effort to spend time with them. Seeing them so afraid of me was eye-opening. I never want them to experience that type of fear again.
The bright spot of the past few days was seeing Dorian each evening during my break at work. He’d meet me at our little table at Starbucks, his sexy smirk, my favorite latte, and an espresso brownie in tow. Knowing that a mall coffee shop is the last place to have such a crucial, delicate conversation, I’ve planned to broach the subject Saturday night after Morgan’s party. I still don’t know how to even word it and couldn’t imagine just simply asking him out of the blue. And what if my suspicions are wrong? What if he laughs in my face? Not to mention, it would surely indicate my true identity. I only have two days to figure it out, and though I’ve been racking my brain, there just doesn’t seem to be a tactful way to present such a sensitive subject.
Since it’s Thursday night and I usually head over to Dorian’s suite after work, I feel oddly out of place sitting on the couch watching television with my parents. It used to be a nightly ritual for us, yet now I feel like an outsider, an intruder in their home. I could have gone to Dorian’s place but then I would have to explain where I was and who I was with, and being that they will see Morgan’s parents this weekend, I can’t risk any holes in my alibi. No, the comfort and safety of Dorian’s arms will have to wait another 48 hours. Sigh.
“That is a beautiful necklace, Gabi,” my mom remarks during a commercial break.
My eyes shift down. Shit. I must’ve been unconsciously fiddling with it while thinking about Dorian. I had been making an effort to keep it tucked away in my shirt while at home to avoid questioning.
“Thanks,” I smile. “Got it up at Breckenridge.” At least I didn’t have to lie. “Hey, guys, I’m beat. I think I’m going to call it a night,” I say to evade any further inspection.
“Ok, dear. You get some rest,” my mom smiles at me. I can tell she’s more relaxed since I’ve been spending more evenings at home.
“Goodnight, Kiddo,” Chris adds. I hate disappointing him and I can tell that he sees me in a different light since Sunday’s incident. Just another indication that it’s time to move out.
After a quick shower, I realize that I really am exhausted. Actually giving a damn about my GPA and worrying about Dorian’s admission has really taken a toll on me. I brush my teeth and throw on my favorite flannel pajamas, a welcomed change from the lace and satin numbers Dorian purchased for me. Sneaking the lingerie into my parent’s house would have proven to be a feat so I opted to just keep them at the Broadmoor where Dorian could enjoy ripping the scanty pieces off me at his leisure. I just hope he still wants to after I reveal what I am. Trying to shake the creeping feelings of doubt and anxiety in my head, I climb into bed, turn on some soothing, soft music, and quickly fall into a dreamless slumber.
Chapter Thirty One
I awake to the smell of bacon and freshly brewed coffee, and for the first time in a week, I feel home. Trickles of warm sunlight filter through my bedroom blinds beckoning me to wake and greet the day. I stretch my stiff limbs and yawn loudly. I feel good. Great, actually. Sleep hasn’t exactly come easy since discovering that the Dark knew our address. Though I know they couldn’t penetrate the wards around the house, somehow they got to our mailbox. The question has been gnawing at me incessantly, among the other numerous worries.
“Good morning, dear!” Donna exclaims as I enter the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom. Something smells good,” I say grabbing a mug for coffee.