Page 112 of Clinically Delicious
Mrs. Lyon.
He just called me Mrs. Lyon.
I’m going to throw up.
“I—” I started, but Gabriel appeared in the doorway, and my brain short-circuited.
He was wearing jeans. Just jeans and a T-shirt, nothing special, but somehow he made “helping move boxes” look like a photo shoot for “Doctors Who Are Unfairly Attractive Monthly.”
Focus, Cate. You’re married to him now. You’re allowed to think he’s hot. You’re married.
Oh my God, I’m MARRIED!
“Upstairs,” Gabriel said, his eyes finding mine across the driveway. “Second door on the left.”
His bedroom.
He means our bedroom because we’re married and we share a bedroom now.
Fitz waggled his eyebrows. “Second door on the left. Got it, boss.”
“Don’t call me boss,” Gabriel said mildly.
“Right, right. Sorry,Mr. Cate Lyon.” Fitz grinned.
“Fitz,” Nathan warned, hauling another box past him. “Stop being an ass.”
“I’m not being an arse! I’m being supportive! This is me being supportive!”
“Your version of supportive is everyone else’s version of ‘please shut up,’” Julien said, appearing with a lamp. “Cate, where does this go?”
I don’t know.
I don’t know where anything goes.
I don’t even know where I go.
Do I go in the bedroom? Do I go in the kitchen? Do I just stand here and have an existential crisis while everyone moves my entire life into a house I’ve only been inside for three weeks?
“Living room,” Gabriel said, and I realized he’d crossed the driveway and was now standing beside me. Close enough that I could smell his cologne. Close enough that my body immediatelyremembered what we’d done in the kitchen at 3 AM two days ago.
Not helpful, body.
We’re in public.
With my PARENTS.
His hand found the small of my back, warm and steady, and he leaned down to murmur in my ear. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing,” I whispered back. “This is me breathing. Very normal breathing. Not at all like I’m about to pass out.”
His mouth twitched. “You’re doing fine.”
“I labeled a box ‘ANXIETY.’”
“I saw.”
“That’s not fine. That’s the opposite of fine.”
