Page 34 of House of Scarlett
My chest might as well crack open and spill my heart out right on the sidewalk. The sound of him saying“Unless you don’t want me to stay. I’ll understand”almost slays me right there.
Something burns behind my eyes, but I’m not even going to think about it. Instead, I hold out a hand. “I would love to get out of this wheelchair.”
“As you wish,” he murmurs, and my heart flutters because I’m 99.9 percent sure he has no idea that’s a line fromThe Princess Bridedesigned to make all Wesley and Princess Buttercup fans—including me—melt instantly.
Except I woefully underestimated what being appropriately prepared for this means, because Gabriel doesn’t just slide his calloused hand across mine and squeeze.No.He leans down tolift me completely out of the wheelchair and into his arms.
The feelings of zero gravity and utter shock have me leaning close to the hard strength of his body.God, he’s solid as a rock.And warm.I want to curl into his heat and soak it up, even though it’s not remotely cold outside.
Because it’s not the heat, Scar. It’s the feeling of areal man. The voice in my head is two steps ahead of me, because she hits the nail on the head.
Neither Chadwick nor any of my past boyfriends would just saunter up and lift me like I weighed no more than a bag of feathers. In fact, none of them ever picked me up at all. Not even to carry me off to bed. Not once.
Wow. That’s depressing.
Gabriel slides me into the back seat of the SUV while Amy and the driver watch, and once I’m carefully buckled up with my belly cushion pressed to my midsection, he steps back.
Amy has a look on her face that I can’t quite decipher. It’s almost like she’s trying to hold back a smile but is also gathering courage. I snap my brain back into thinking mode and guess why she looks like she’s prepping for an unpleasant conversation.The birthday party.
I don’t know what time it is right this second, but I can guess. If Amy comes back to Curated with us and spends time helping me get settled, she’ll be super late.
“Amy, why don’t you take off and get to that party early? They’ll be so shocked, they won’t know what to think for once.”
Her brows shoot up, and a rueful smile follows with a concerned expression. “Are you sure? I can be a little late.”
Gabriel picks up on what’s going on. “I’ve got her covered. I promise she’s in good hands, whatever you might think.”
Amy bites her lip. Knowing her, she has plenty to say and ask, but she doesn’t want to be rude.
I smile and wave her off. “Go. I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for being such a rock star. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I hold out my hand, and Amy comes forward to squeeze it and give me a hug.
“Call me if you need anything. I don’t care what time. I’ll have my phone on, and I can be over in twenty minutes.” She glances at Gabriel. “Scarlett will give you my number. If you have any questions at all or there’s something you can’t figure out, I’m always available.”
“Thanks. Enjoy your party,” Gabriel replies before stepping back and disappearing behind the SUV, presumably to climb in the other side.
Amy sees a window for privacy and goes for it. “Are you sure this is okay? I can skip the party. I don’t want you doing anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, no matter what Flynn’s trying to mastermind.”
“I’m fine. I promise. Go have fun. Thank you for everything. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” I reach out to hug her again, and she leans in against my hair.
“You know I’d do anything for you. Call me if he takes one step out of line. I’ll come back with my brother-in-law. He’s NYPD.”
The other door opens and Gabriel slides in slowly, as if he knows Amy and I needed a minute to talk.
“Tell your family I said hi, Ames. Now go.”
I wave at her through the tinted glass as the SUV pulls away from the curb with the driver, Gabriel, and me inside, and one thought slams into my brain.
Oh fuck. Did anyone clean my bathroom after the other day?
Nineteen
Legend
I never expectedin all my life to be riding in the back of a chauffeur-driven SUV with the daughter of one of America’s most recognizable fashion icons.
I watch the buildings as we drive away from the hospital, and everything that is New York City washes over me as we make our way through traffic. The horns. The bustling pedestrians. The dog walkers and food carts. The don’t-give-a-fuck pigeons who have more balls than most men I know. It’s the city I’ve come to love and respect.
I remember the first time Q brought me over from Jersey, and we walked the streets of Manhattan. It was night, and there were so many sky-high buildings lit up that the kid who’d never been anywhere but Biloxi was in awe.
