Gabe (Blue-Collar Billionaires 3)

Upstairs, Gabe stirs when I come back in the room. I can tell he's been medicated because his eyes are slightly unfocused and he seems to have trouble following my movements around the room. I had started leaving random things at his house anyway so I pull out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt and change my clothes. Then I climb carefully into the bed next to him.

"I'm so sorry. So sorry, beautiful girl."

"Shh, it's okay." I hold a finger to his lips to stop the stream of apologetic words.

I'm just so grateful, so incredibly grateful that he's still here. That we get to have these moments. If things had ended differently, he could have been taken from me and I would have never known why. Worse, I would have lived the rest of my life thinking his cruel last words to me were the truth.

He turns his head and it hurts me to see what the effort costs him.

"I know you don't like the idea of just living together. You're a good girl." He smiles. "And I love that about you. So let's get married."

The hand that's stroking his hair freezes. Then my eyes fall on the medication bottle on his nightstand. Understanding dawns and I can't resist kissing the tip of his nose. He's so damn cute.

"Gabe, I think your medication is making you loopy."

He reaches up and grabs my hand. The gravity in his eyes makes me pause. He doesn't look delirious. But he has to be.

"I'm not dreaming and I'm completely serious. I am in love with you. And I don't ever want us to be apart."

Even though my heart sings, I know that a decision made in the spur of the moment isn't the best way to start a lifelong commitment. "I'll tell you what. If you still remember this conversation in the morning, then we'll do it."

He chuckles and then falls quiet. As his breathing evens out, I wonder if he'll remember this conversation tomorrow and be embarrassed. Just when I'm sure he's asleep, he opens his eyes again.

"Sasha? I want to tell you something."

"You can tell me anything."

He hesitates, as if he's afraid of how I'll take what he's about to say. "I was always a good liar. A master of manipulation. I didn't need to take people's money because if you know what you're doing, you can make them think it's their idea to give it to you."

"I have to admit, I still don't quite understand it. You have a good heart. I know you do." Even though he's changed, he still carries this negative view of himself. But I've seen the way he treats people. The way he cares for his family. For me.

"That's the most important part of a con. It's the appearance of being harmless. People always think they need to fear the boogeyman or some scary figure with a gun. But there are so many crimes committed using nothing more than a phone or an Internet connection. It's not the boogeyman we need to fear; it's the people we think are our friends. But Sasha you brought out things in me that I didn't know I could feel. You taught me what love was."

Even though my heart is bursting, I try to rein in my tears. I've spent a long time waiting for the man who could see past the performance I put on for the world and look deeper to who I am inside. This is a time for happiness, not tears.

“You did the same for me, pretty boy. Now get some sleep.”

His eyes stay on mine for a long time until he finally falls to sleep. Eventually I drift off too, still holding his hand.

Some things are worth holding on to.

chapter seventeen

GABE

Six weeks later …

I lean against the wall in The Lounge, Sasha’s newly renovated jazz club, and watch the love of my life work the crowd. The last few weeks have been a flurry of activity as she attacked planning her grand opening celebration with renewed energy and vigor. Since I’d paid contractors to build out the space, she’d been able to order furniture and concentrate on hiring servers.

I’ve been slowly recovering from Blade’s attack and things have been quiet. Max has left the country and we’re all stuck in a sort of limbo waiting to see what will happen next. Not that I’m taking any chances with Sasha’s safety. I told her that she would have a permanent shadow for the rest of her natural life whether she wants one or not.

When I stand up straighter, my side aches slightly. My injury made it difficult for me to help Sasha as much as I wanted to. Although I’d offered more financial help, she’d declined. When I’d finally come to visit the club and seen the expensive furniture and light fixtures that she’d had installed, I’d been worried that she was putting herself into debt to finance it all.

With a secretive little smile, she’d opened her laptop and pulled up a website. On the screen was a video entitled “Falling Hard / Failing Hard REMIX.” We’ve had several conversations about how her moment of humiliation has affected her life. She told me about how for months her family wasn’t even allowed to mention the name of the show. So I was shocked that she wanted me to actually watch the video.

“Sasha, what is this?”

She hit play on the video and after an advertisement was shown, the video of her audition played. It had been overlaid with an auto-tuned remix of the song. At the part where she falls and her skirt flips up, the video has it on a loop so she’s shown falling over and over again while her own voice sings “Falling hard, Falling-Falling-Hard.” Her exposed bottom is stamped with the words #EpicFAIL.