She’s actually the only person in the world who has proved to me how much she loves me, even when I thought I didn’t need proof.
It’s easy to tell her everything, every thought and feeling I’ve had regarding Noah since I met him almost two months ago, and to her credit, she lets me ramble on for as long as I need. Doesn’t even interrupt when I pause for a few seconds to gather my thoughts.
“So now I’m packing to get away to the castle, for a few days at least. I need to get my head on straight, and honestly, I do have a lot of work to do on the whole book thing. I think being out in the country will be good for that.”
Somehow she knows that’s when I’m done talking. Her thoughtful hum comes through the line like yet another balm to my nerves.
“Okay, I’m going to call Harry and force him to leave his life for a week, remind him his presence isn’t detrimental to the survival of the planet. I’ll call my pilot and will probably be on the plane in an hour, then pick Harry and Tristan up in New York in five hours, so... Yeah, we’ll be there in around twelve hours. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime. Pick us up in one of your big fancy cars and we’ll keep you company and help you figure out this book shit.
“It was hard for me too, when I wrote my autobiography, but I got the hang of it quickly enough, so I’ll be able to help, I think. And we’ll workshop a few ideas to get you your sweet geeky boyfriend, all right?”
I don’t know why I’m always surprised when Gab puts one of her plans together. She’s so... efficient.
“Chase?”
I sigh, happy to give myself over into her more capable hands.
“Yeah, okay.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Chase
Gabrielle Darnell has changeda lot in the thirty-five years I’ve known her.
Not so much physically, there hasn’t been a lot of change there—she’s still short, thin, and blonde—but her posture, the way she walks, talks, and what she expects for herself.
The daughter of a football star, she felt she had a lot to prove when she arrived at freshman orientation at Harvard.
She sure as shit hasn’t anything to prove nowadays.
Harry, on the other hand, acts exactly the same and looks very different.
He’s gotten bulkier with age—taking care of his body is as much a hobby as an obsession, since he’s determined to be the first Crawford man to live past fifty-five in the last two hundred years. His hair has gone completely white too, something I’ll mock him for for the rest of our lives.
I’m a silver fox; he’s an old man.
The gorgeous, younger man he’s dragging down the jet’s stairs is something I also used to tease him about—becoming a sugar daddy is good fodder for teasing even if it’s not true—but considering Noah is younger than Tristan, I won’t have a leg to stand on even if I never get to kiss him.
“Stop looking like a kicked puppy!” Gab shouts at me when she’s five feet away.
I straighten away from the car where I was leaning and smile—genuinely too—at her stern look.
“Thanks for coming,” I tell her, and I spread my arms, ready for the hug.
She runs the last few feet and jumps to wrap her legs around me, and kisses my cheeks noisily.
“Missed you, Chase.”
“Missed you too, Gab.”
Harry greets me with his usual big smile and back-slapping hug, and Tristan barely grunts at me.
“He hasn’t slept at all,” Harry explains for his husband.
I wave his non-verbal greeting away and then help put their bags in the back of my car.
“Let’s get going.”