“I will. Thanks again, Gabriel.”
He walked out, but instead of taking the elevator, he disappeared into the stairwell.
I shut the door behind him and stood for a second, baffled. Why had he been in such a hurry to leave? I wondered if he had a date later.
For the next few minutes, I tidied the living room and pondered the confusing state of my emotions. Gabriel was a good man. There was no doubt about that. It wasn’t a huge eye-opener for me. I’d always considered him to be the most gentlemanly of all my male friends. Rose was certainly enamored with him, and she enjoyed his company. And he looked better than ever before. He was more confident, more of a man, compared to that young, lanky boy I’d dated in college.
As I knelt and picked at some crumbs on the carpet, I thought of the moment when I’d come out of my bedroom and seen this mature version of my old boyfriend sitting on the sofa with Rose, a large picture book on their laps. Something inside me had shaken, and I’d felt a release of some kind, followed by an unexpected surge of excitement. I sat back on my heels because I recognized exactly what it was, and I was surprised by it. I hadn’t felt anything like it in years.
It was the thrill of physical attraction.
Goodness. I had thought that part of me was permanently closed for business. Shut down forever. Maybe I wasn’t as dead inside as I thought.
With that revelation, I waited ten minutes for Gabriel to reach his apartment. Then I went to the phone in the kitchen, and I called him.
“You’re probably tired of hearing from me,” I said in a light and breezy tone, “but I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow afternoon, because I’d love for you to come with us to the park. If you want to, that is.”
He was quiet for a moment, and my tummy exploded with nervous knots because I sensed rejection in the offing.
“I don’t know, Olivia,” he said. “I’d like to, but . . .”
That was the moment I knew. I had feelings for this man, and not just feelings of friendship. Today they had morphed into something else.
All I wanted was for Gabriel to say yes and take a chance on me. To forgive me for the heartbreak in the past and start over, fresh. How could I convince him that I was ready to move past the loss of Dean and that I wouldn’t toy with his affections again?
“I hope you know how much I care about you,” Gabriel said.
“Of course I do.” But you don’t want me. I felt an acute sense of loss.
He spoke in a low, solemn voice. “I know I said that I wanted us to be friends, Olivia, and I thought that maybe we could be. But the truth is . . .”
He stopped talking, and I worried that my heart was about to be crushed.
“I find it difficult to be around you,” he continued. “Because I want more than just friendship. I always have. And every time I see you, it just piles on more torture.”
I should have felt sympathy or guilt as I usually did whenever I thought of how I had hurt him when we were younger. But this time, my heart soared.
“I find it difficult to be friends with you too,” I told him. “I’ve always regretted what happened between us. I regretted how I hurt you. But there’s more to it than that, Gabriel.” I paused.
“Yes?”
I cleared my throat, nervously. “There’s a love that’s always been there. It never went away, but I needed to keep it buried and avoid you because I met someone else and I married him, and now I’ve been grieving for that man, because he died.”
There it was. The word I hadn’t been able to speak aloud. Until now.
“But I don’t want to grieve forever,” I continued, “and I . . .” I swallowed uncomfortably. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” he said. “But I don’t want to feel like I’m your backup plan. That if Dean walked through your door tomorrow, I’d be second choice.”
He was quiet for a moment, so I sat down. “You’re not second choice. Not now.”
Besides, that was never going to happen. Dean was never going to walk through my door. He was gone. That part of my life was over forever.
The clock ticked steadily on the wall, and the air conditioner switched on.
Finally, Gabriel spoke. “So what are we going to do about this?”
I considered that carefully. “I don’t know. I think that’s up to you.”
I waited anxiously for him to respond.
“Maybe we could take things slow,” he finally said. “See how it goes. Or maybe we should just relax and play Frisbee tomorrow.”
I felt a tremendous rush of joy. “I’d like that.”
Neither of us seemed like we wanted to hang up, so I tossed out another suggestion. “Unless you want to come back over and just hang out? I could cook us dinner later.” I paused. “Or maybe you already have plans?”
“I don’t have plans,” he quickly replied, “and I’d love to come over. When?”
I bit my lower lip, feeling shy. “Is now too soon?”
“Not too soon at all.”
No hesitation there. I giggled inwardly, and we said goodbye and hung up the phone.
For the next few minutes, I could do nothing but pace around my apartment impatiently, waiting for Gabriel to arrive. When I finally heard the elevator bell go ding, I ran out to the hall.
Gabriel stepped off the elevator. He saw me standing there, smiling. Everything slowed. My joy was immeasurable. For a few seconds, I felt as if I were floating, that we were the only two people left in the universe. My heart swelled with happiness, and I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
Gabriel walked slowly toward me until no distance between us remained.
“Hi,” he gently said and took hold of my hand. Our fingers wove together, and I felt his warmth. I reveled in that small physical connection as our eyes met.
The corner of my mouth curled up in a tentative smile. “I’m so glad you came back.”
“Me too.”
Slowly, cautiously, he drew me into his arms and held me, and I realized that the sensation of floating had been the blissful release of the past. It was the sweet and splendid mercy of finally letting go.
1997
NEW YORK
CHAPTER 26
OLIVIA
There were moments, in the early years of my second marriage, when I felt as if I had been blessed with not one but two great loves. The first was filled with promise, but that life was cut short. For a while, I lost faith in future happiness. I crawled into a dark cave, curled up in a ball, and stayed there for ages. But somehow, miraculously, I’d been offered a second chance, and I was so very grateful that I had accepted that gift.
As I sat in the high school gymnasium listening to the children’s choir perform a jazzy rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” I hugged my two-year-old son, Joel, on my lap, while Rose, now six, sat primly on her chair beside me. Gabriel was up front conducting the choir, and the baby in my belly was kicking with a steady rhythm, like a future drummer destined for stardom.
Earlier in the week, I’d told Gabriel that this was going to be the best Christmas ever.
“Really?” he’d asked uncertainly, as if he still couldn’t quite believe that I liked this life better than the previous one.