He could tell himself he was selecting a guest room--not his room--and that's why he'd chosen the better one. But Olivia was right that no one else would use it, and he'd decided that if it seemed not to matter which he took, he might as well take what he wanted. Which should be easy. He spent his life taking what he wanted. Olivia was correct here, too, though, that there was a difference between buying his greystone office because it best suited his needs and buying it because he liked it. Practicality versus frivolity. Logic versus emotion.
"The other two rooms are unfurnished," he said. "There is furniture in the attic, if you decide to stay. The elders say it all comes with the house. I've put the table and chairs in the dining room and added basics to the kitchen--a set of dishes and cutlery, pots, a coffeemaker."
"Gotta have the coffeemaker."
"I thought so."
She turned to him. "All right, then, counselor. Convince me I won't be shooting myself in the foot if I move in temporarily."
He gave her his argument, namely that the elders understood the purchase of the house in no way indicated she was leaning in their direction, no more than living at Grace's did. It was the safest arrangement. It was also a balanced one. Cainsville provided Olivia with shelter, and her living there provided the town with greater access to her than the Cwn Annwn had.
"Do you want it?" he asked as he finished.
"Yes, but--"
"Do you honestly believe that a house, however much you like it, would make you side with the Cainsville fae if you did not believe it was the right decision?"
"No." She took a deep breath. "I guess that answers my question."
"It does, and having decided, I suggest we put that coffeemaker to use and step into the garden."
"Which is going to need some serious elbow grease."
When he said nothing, she looked over at him. "No..."
He shrugged, and she hurried down the steps, through the house to the back window. What he heard then was not quite a girlish shriek, but very close to it.
"It's only cleared," he said as he walked up behind her. "It's too late for planting, but Rose said the garden ought to be put to bed properly."
She turned and gave him a wide grin, a bouncing-on-toes, little-girl-at-Christmas grin. Then she put out her arms and said, "Can I? Just say no if--"
"You can."
She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, fairly strumming with excitement, and he thought, I did it. Also Top that, Ricky, and yes, he did feel a twinge of guilt, but it was a very small twinge, and really only because it was not quite sportsmanlike to compete against someone who didn't realize there was a competition.
But Gabriel hadn't gotten where he was by being sportsmanlike. And he did respect Ricky enough that he would never try to seduce Olivia away in any more overt way. Which wasn't, to be honest, a moral choice so much as the admission that, there, he would probably fail. But there was some degree of--if not morality--personal respect, the same quality that knotted his stomach when he thought about the river tunnel and the kiss. He did feel guilty about that. He really did...even if that guilt took a while to arrive, following well after other emotions that accompanied those particular memories.
"Sorry," Olivia said. "I'll stop hugging you now."
You don't have to, he thought, but in the time it took for him to realize he could have said that, at least with a smile, she'd already backed off and the moment had passed, which was probably best. For now.
"Okay, so coffee..." She turned slowly, as if in a semi-daze, still glowing with excitement. "Is that--? That's not a coffeemaker, Gabriel."
"It makes cappuccinos as well, which I'm told can be used for mochas."
"That's...You didn't need to..."
He tensed. Here he'd crossed the line. Here it was too much. Too extravagant.
He'd wanted to say, in the most unmistakable way, I hear you. That he paid attention. That changing the locks and having furniture brought down was the least she needed. The bedding and towels and dishes took it a step further, but were still basics, as a host might provide for a guest. The rest was where he really said what he wanted to say. I know you'll want that cupola for a reading room and you'll want pillows. I know you'll want to sit out in the garden while you can, without fretting that you should be clearing it for winter. I know you'd like a mocha when you sit outside or up in your reading nook. I know all this. I know you.
But the coffee machine went a step too far. It was not merely an act of consideration. It was a gift that, while easily covered by a trip to the bank machine, was more than one friend ought to give another, and now, seeing it and thinking of all the rest, she seemed to realize that.
"First you save my life," she said. "Now this. Racking up your side of the tally, huh? I owe you big-time now."
His insides chilled. "You owe me nothing, Olivia. I was merely preparing the house for your possible arrival."
She flushed. "Right. Sorry. There's a bill. Of course. I knew that."
More chilling, settling in the pit of his stomach. "No, this is a gift. I would hardly purchase items for you, without your consent, and expect you to repay me."
She reddened more, stammering out an apology.
For God's sake, Gabriel, stop being an ass. Get your back down and apologize.
She'd been smiling when she said she owed him. Teasing him, in a way that wasn't entirely teasing because she wasn't entirely sure. That was how relationships worked with him. Take nothing and owe nothing. Keep the balance firmly in his favor.
When he got snippy and said he was only preparing the house, she'd presumed he meant he expected her to pay, and had flushed in embarrassment at her mistake. Could he blame her for that? Before she'd come to work for him, he'd charged her for his time, a bill to be paid when her trust came in. Of course she would think he might have only been showing consideration in buying the items, to also be repaid.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"No, I--"
"I overreacted, and I was unclear regarding the nature of the gesture. It is a gift. I appreciate everything you've done." He knew he should say more, but here he struggled. I appreciate the work you've done for me, at the firm? True, but that said he'd done this for her as an employee. I appreciate your friendship. Also true, but when he opened his mouth to say that, the words wouldn't come out. They were still too damning an admission.
Damning an admission? That she was a friend? That he valued her friendship? There were greeting cards for that, for God's sake, and he couldn't even say the words? How the hell did he ever expect to say more?
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
I feel as if I've taken huge leaps, and I haven't even caught up to where a normal person would start. Ricky would have been able to say he valued her friendship after a few coffee dates.
Say something. Say anything. Goddamn it, just--
"I appreciate everything," he blurted. "That's what I'm saying. I know I'm not always the easiest person. I know I've made things difficult for you. I know you've...you've..." Words, Gabriel. Words. "You've stuck by me regardless of my mistakes. And I...I appreciate that."
She hugged him again. No asking for permission this time, but it was a quick hug, too brief for him to complain if he'd wanted, which he certainly did not. Brief and fierce, and then she stood there, looking...
Not looking the way she had five minutes ago. Not glowing and bouncing. Not at all.
"I...I have to tell you something," she said.
His heart slammed against his ribs, and he had to struggle for breath. Which was ridiculous. Overreacting. But he couldn't help it. He saw that look on her face, and he knew, whatever she had to say, it was bad and it involved him, and he would not be happy about it. That's what her expression said. All the possibilities ricocheted through his head, all the things that could give her that look.
I'm sorry, Gabriel, but...
Ricky doesn't want me hanging out with you so much.
I can't work for you
anymore.
I'm pregnant.
Admittedly, they all seemed unlikely, particularly the last, but he had considered them, at one time or another. It was like preparing to defend a client in court--what was the worst the opposing side would say and how would he counter it? These were the three possibilities he'd agonized over the most. The last was not in itself an issue, but rather he feared it would push Olivia and Ricky together in a way that closed any opportunity for him.
"Gabriel?"
"Go on," he said.
She crossed her arms and rubbed them. "I'm sorry. It's...it's something I probably should have told you before. I just..." She looked up, not quite meeting his gaze. "With the Gwynn thing, I was afraid you'd react badly."
"Which I did."
"This isn't the same. It's not how you'll react. It's...it's how you'll feel."
"It's about me, then."
She nodded.
"Just me?"
Another nod.
He tried not to exhale in relief, and looked across the kitchen. "Would you like a coffee? I believe there are ingredients for a mocha in the refrigerator--Veronica said she'd pick them up at the shop. There are cookies, too. From Rose."
Olivia stared at him, and he replayed his words, searching for some way they could be misconstrued.
"It may be late for coffee," he said. "But I believe Veronica also bought decaffeinated."
"I...have something important to tell you, Gabriel."
"Yes, and I thought we'd take coffee and go outside to discuss it."
"It's really important."
He could see that. However, as it only concerned him, he couldn't imagine it was nearly as monumental as she seemed to think. But he supposed, if she was upset, she might not want coffee.
"All right," he said. "What is it?"
"It's about..."
She took a deep breath. He waved her into the next room. "Let's sit."
She nodded and followed him to the living room. They sat and...nothing. She perched on the edge of the sofa, hands in her lap.
"I don't know how to tell you this," she said.
"Go on," he said, trying not to sound impatient, while well aware that night was falling, which meant it would soon be too chilly to sit outside. He remembered taking a meeting in a client's garden once, and she'd had a wood-burning stove out there. He would suggest that for Olivia, to extend the use of her garden.
It took a moment to realize Olivia was talking again, and given the apparent gravity of the situation, he should listen.
"--because I don't want you to find out another way, like what happened with Tristan and Gwynn. Others know--fae, that is, and Cwn Annwn--and they're going to tell you at some point."
"All right." It would probably be rude to stop her while he turned on the coffee machine to warm up. He should have done that before they left the kitchen.
"It's...it's about your..."
He had to resist the urge to tell her to just blurt it out.
"Your father..." she said. "Did your mother ever hint at who...?"
"No."
"Okay, well, I know who...I know who he is."
"All right."
She looked at him as if he might not have heard right. Clearly his reaction was not what she'd expected. Discovering her own parentage had been life-changing. Devastating, at least in the beginning, and even now she dealt with the ramifications daily. Yet he'd never wasted a moment wondering about the identity of his father. Rose had broached the subject once--did it bother him, not knowing? His honest reply had been no.
As long as the man didn't actually expect contact with Gabriel, he supposed it would be helpful to fill in his missing medical history, but otherwise he had no interest. Unless his father would want money. In that case he'd rather not know. However, knowing would in no way obligate him to help.
"Gabriel?"
"Go on."
"I said I know who your father is."
He softened his voice. "I realize you consider this momentous news, Olivia. But to me? It is merely filling in a blank that I never cared was empty."
She exhaled. "Okay. But...it's...it's not just some random guy your mother slept with. I mean, it is, but..."
"I know him?"
She nodded, her gaze fixed on him. He quickly compiled the evidence.
"Patrick," he said finally.
Olivia went still. "You knew?"
He shook his head. "Given what you've said, that simply seemed the most obvious answer. I'll presume I'm correct, then. It would explain why Seanna became so upset when I had contact with him as a child."
"She forbade you to speak to him. Not surprising, given she'd have been barely eighteen when he seduced her."
"Knowing Seanna, I rather doubt that's exactly how it happened."
"But she was so young."
"Seanna was never young, Olivia. If you think a teenage pregnancy sent her life into a downward spiral, I can assure you, that isn't what happened. Rose says the drugs came much earlier. I was a minor inconvenience rather than a life-changing event."
"I'm sorry."
He gave her a brief smile. "There's no need to be."
"I still am. I'm sorry for what you went through with her, and I'm sorry Patrick did nothing about it. That's why I didn't want to tell you. To let you know your father had been there when..."
"Ah. Is that why you've been angry with him?"
"Of course," she said, as if the answer was obvious. He'd noticed her relationship with Patrick had changed a few months ago. She'd seemed fine with him, and then she wasn't.
"He's fae," Gabriel said softly. "I don't think we can expect him to take a normal parental role."
"I don't care. He should have done something."
Her voice was fierce, and if this was secondhand outrage he was getting now, he could only imagine what Patrick must have gotten. The full brunt of her fury. For him.
I love her.
That was hardly a revelation. If he didn't, he wouldn't take the risk of trying to further their relationship. Yet he had never said the words even in his mind, because even there they blew a cannonball through a fortress he'd spent a lifetime erecting. To care about someone was quite enough, and even that was difficult to admit. Only a few minutes ago, he'd been unable to say he valued her friendship.
To say he loved her was like teetering on the edge of a pit, every fiber in him wanting to scramble back from the edge, saying no, no, no. To love her meant that if he didn't win her, if he never got a chance to prove...
His breath seized at the thought, and that pit seemed to rear up, ready to swallow him whole.
Now you know how I felt.
He flinched at Gwynn's voice, and then everything in him truly did rebel, scrambling away as fast as it could. Whatever he felt, it would never lead there. Never, ever--
"Gabriel?"
He snapped back to see Olivia watching him, her face drawn with worry. He found the barest smile for her. "Sorry. I was just...processing. I appreciate that you were concerned. That..."
He cleared his throat and forced the words out as fast as he could. "That means a lot to me. But my own feelings on the matter...? Patrick is fae. He made some effort, and while it would not come near your standard for proper parenting, it exceeds my own experience." He said the last with a tiny smile, but the flash of pain on her face made him wish he hadn't gone there.
She loves me, too, in her way.
"Coffee?" he said.
She smiled. "Yes, I'm finally done, and we may have coffee."
CHAPTER FORTY
We took our coffees into the garden, where we sat on the bench and drank, and Gabriel mentioned the possibility of a backyard stove or fire pit, and we discussed that--types I'd seen at garden parties, and which would work best here.
"Then you will buy one?" he said.
"As soon as you use the fireplace at the office."
"Would you settle for a fire in my wastebasket?"
I mock-glowered at him. "No.
Get yours going, and I'll buy more comfortable seating, too." I shifted and made a face. "Soon. Please."
We sipped our coffees and talked about lawn furniture. There was still part of me that worried he was in shock about Patrick. He'd handled the revelation as if I'd been telling him the weather forecast, and really, it wasn't as if he planned to be out of doors anyway.
When Gabriel's phone rang, I recognized the ring tone, having set it up myself. "The office? It's Saturday night"
"Lydia planned to work this evening in return for a half day off next week." He answered the phone, and I heard uncharacteristic rapid-fire speech from the other end.
Gabriel glanced at me and hit a button. "Olivia's here. I'm putting you on speaker."
"--don't need to put me on speaker, Gabriel," Lydia said. "You need to get over here. Now."
I rose, but Gabriel held out a hand, stopping me.
"You said there's a girl--"
"--in your office. Completely panicked and refusing to speak to anyone except you or someone named Gwynn."
I took the phone and started for the gate. "It's me. We're on our way, but we're in Cainsville and the car is a half mile away. Can you put her on the phone? Tell her it's Olivia, and Gabriel is right here."
"I would, but she's out cold."
"What?"
"I think it's drugs. She was talking about someone named Gwynn and seemed to get him confused with Gabriel. She mentioned you, but she said she really needed Gabriel. Then she was speaking in another language. Then back to English, about hounds and pepper, and it made absolutely no sense, Liv. I couldn't even get her to calm down enough to let me phone Gabriel until she passed out."
"We'll be there as soon as we can."
--
We found the lamia on the chaise lounge in Gabriel's office. Lydia apologized for that, but it was the only horizontal surface.
"You should go," I said to Lydia. "We've got this."
She shook her head. "I can--"
"You've done enough," Gabriel said. "We appreciate you staying with her."
"You know what this is about, then," she said.
When Gabriel didn't answer, I said, "Yes, we do."
"And it would be better if I left?"
"Yes, it would."
I walked her to her desk, where she got her jacket and laptop bag. "Thank you. For handling this."
She busied herself putting on her jacket. "I know things have changed, Liv. Not just because you're here, and Gabriel no longer practically lives in this office. Which is wonderful to see, but..." She looked at me. "I'm not demanding to know more, but I think it would help if I did."