Worth It

Chapter Twenty-Six

Gabriel

"Your father danced with her the entire time. He even talks to her in Spanish. He doesn't even talk to me in English. When you left for the bathroom, your mother kept rambling on in Spanish, and I'm not stupida. I know what that word means."

It wasn't something new that my parents didn't like, Savannah. They hated her when I dated her in college, and they really hated her now. If not much more.

I've sat and talked to them about it more than once, but my mother insisted that she would never hide how she feels while my father just gives me this disappointing look as he shakes his head.

It was getting taxing. I was tired of trying to create peace between them because, at this point, it's become a set routine every day.

"I'll talk to my parents again," I grumbled. I set my coffee down and pinched the bridge of my nose in exasperation. "Anything else? I need to get to work."

Her nose wrinkled, and she uncrossed her arms and came over to me. She straddled my lap and wove her hands around my neck. I never thought I'd hate sex. Maybe it's cause I never had to force myself to enjoy it.

My dick got hard only if I imagined Kat, and it was such a douchey thing to imagine another girl while I was with Savannah, but I'm sure we'd never have sex if I didn't conjure up a particular blue-eyed angel.

"How long do you have?" She purred, her hips slowly moving her mine.

"I can't. I have a meeting." The meeting card was overused but did the trick.

She pouted. "Come on, Gabriel. We can have sex before we get married. It's not bad luck."

"I know." I grabbed her hips and hauled her off my lap. "I just don't want to be late."

She ran her fingers through her hair and leaned against the table. "Are you not attracted to me?"

The familiar feeling of guilt sparked through me, and I stood up and grabbed her hand.

"I honestly do have a meeting, and I don't want to be late. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you later tonight." I promised. I kissed her hand softly. "Deal?"

"Deal." She smiled. She got on her tippy toes and kissed me. "I love you."

"Me too."

The words came out forced, but they always came out forced. It was never I love you too, or I love you more. It was always me too, because I couldn't bring myself to say them to anyone else. With one last chaste kiss, I wove out of her grip and grabbed my briefcase by the door and my car keys before heading out the door.

My thoughts were overfilling with Katarina and have been since I saw her yesterday. I couldn't get her out of my mind. Even after all these years that we spent apart, it was like she never left. Katarina lived inside me, and her name was branded across my heart.

Her touch embedded onto my skin, and her smiles and laughs were engraved in my mind. She was the only person I saw when I closed my eyes and the only person I wished to see when I opened them. It felt childish, especially with the fact that I was engaged, but I didn't know what else to do.

She ran away to fucking Paris so that she wouldn't see me. When a girl you love leaves you and jets off to Europe rather than be in a relationship with you, you start to get the hint. She doesn't love you and never will. It was more than obvious. I mean, she put a fucking ocean between us. I hadn't seen her in three years, and those three years felt like a fucking eternity. 

I could never forget how she looked or smelt like, but hearing her laugh and seeing her smile, fuck, it felt like my heart was being jumpstarted back to life. Like I hadn't been living until I saw her again.