He reaches for my arm. I step back. He moves closer. “Penny,” he pleads. “I know you always wanted to get married. Let’s just put the past behind us and tie the knot. You and me and Shortcake,” he says, with a little quirk of his lips like he thinks using my dog’s name will get me to say yes.
Shortcake lifts an ear when she hears her name.
I open my mouth to speak.
But someone else gets a word in first.
“She said no.”
I nearly stumble with relief to find Gabriel by my side.
Gavin’s eyes widen, then narrow. “I believe this is between Penny and me.”
Gabriel holds up one finger and says in a cool, sophisticated tone, “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. It’s not between the two of you, since she’s with me now.” He ropes an arm around my shoulders and grips me hard.
Gavin’s green eyes flick from me to Gabriel then back.
“Besides,” Gabriel continues, “I believe she told you no, not after the way it ended. Perhaps you’d like to take that as your cue to run along.”
And in case there was any doubt, Gabriel cups my cheek with his other hand and delivers a crushing kiss to my mouth. He’s definitely marking me now, and I can feel it in the way his teeth graze over my lips. This kiss feels like a punishment as much as a claiming.
After five seconds, he pulls away and flashes a practiced smile at my ex. “But thank you for being a supporter of Little Friends and the dogs. Be sure to have a sandwich on the way out.”
Gavin rubs his knuckle against his ear, like he can’t quite believe that another man has bested him. He raises his hand in a faint wave and wanders off, a scolded child searching aimlessly for a new toy.
Gabriel turns to me, cocks his head, and speaks ever-so-softly, but in the crispest voice. “Now, love. Is there anyone else I should expect to run into today at this event?”
And whatever anger radiates off him—I seize it and hold it for myself. “What the hell? Why would you say that?” I whisper-yell at him.
He lifts his chin. “Let’s see. I’ve already bumped into someone you dated, and now, apparently, that asshole you were nearly married to.” He strokes his chin. “Funny, you never mentioned him.”
The anger doubles down. It triples. How dare he? “You didn’t want to hear! And I was never almost married to Gavin. And I should not have to apologize for having gone on two dates with Mitch, who is, incidentally, a very nice guy,” I say through thin lips, as I point in the general direction of the crowd.
“But what about Captain Asshole? The one trying to win you back?”
Out of the corner of my eye I spot Lacey walking toward with me with another one of our biggest donors.
I breathe in through my nose, willing my heart to settle and my frustration to take a hike. I lower my voice more and say to Gabriel, “I can’t talk about this now. I need to chat with one of our donors.” He arches an eyebrow at that last word, as if he’s caught me being a…a playgirl? “And you’re being entirely unfair.”
He drops a gentle kiss to my cheek, but his words aren’t sweet. “What’s entirely unfair is that you were so focused on my past, and it bothered you immensely, and that was all because of what you heard the press say about me. Now in the span of a few hours, I’ve come face-to-face with two of your exes.” He puts his hand on his chest. “Call me crazy, but that’s not exactly my favorite thing to experience. And that’s why, perhaps, it’s best that I not be in this vicinity right now.” He takes a breath. “I just need to be by myself for a bit.”
He leaves, and that frustration inside me explodes into hurt and sadness as I watch him walk away, because it brings back all the bitter memories of the evening at the fountain.
But there’s no time to talk. I have to slip on a happy face. Shortcake wags her tail, like she knows only a dog’s love will do right now. I bend down, scratch her chin, then plaster on a smile and focus on business while my heart aches cruelly.
Chapter Sixteen
Gabriel
Fifth Avenue is a zoo.
I lower my sunglasses over my eyes and push through the throngs of Saturday-afternoon New Yorkers—hipsters in cuffed jeans and horn-rimmed glasses, mothers in capri pants pushing sporty strollers next to fathers in striped shirts, young couples with their hands in each other’s back pockets, wearing flirty smiles that hint of afternoon delights to come.
I’m not in the fucking mood for crowds, or people, or being civilized, and if I’d stayed at that event a second longer, I’d have said something I’d really regret. With my fists clenched and red clouds billowing from my ears, I’d walked away from the picnic and across the park to Fifth Avenue, and now I’m heading south, right next to a goddamn bus that somehow keeps the same pace as I do.
Acrid fumes blow from the giant vehicle’s exhaust. I drag a hand roughly through my hair. Frustration digs deep inside me, tunneling through my body, setting up camp in my bones.
Because…Penny.
Fucking Penny.
And Mitch and Gavin.
As the bus rumbles to a stop, I can’t deal with this sardine-feel of New York.
I cross the avenue, heading east along a side street in the sixties, doing my best to get away from the heart of the city. Away from the woman in the park who brings out this side of me that I don’t like.
Grabbing my phone, I click on the playlist I made last week thanks to Tina’s recommendations. But Pizza for Breakfast reminds me of Penny, so I find a classical piece—a cello number Tina used to play, she told me. Popping in my earbuds, I crank the music up and turn off all the other apps on my phone. Not that Penny has called. Not that Penny has texted. Not that she wants to talk to me, either.