Gabriel, not Ethan but Gabriel. My mother’s late husband’s best friend. The man who’d carried Dad’s casket. The man who’d come to every birthday, every holiday, every family barbecue.
The man I’d called Uncle Gabe until I was sixteen and realized I was staring at his arms too long.
I scrambled to sit up grabbing for my dress to heart in my throat.
Mom set the bags on the entry table like this was normal.
Like she hadn’t just walked in on her daughter half naked with a man twice her age.
“Mom…” My voice cracked. “This isn’t…”
She waved a hand in a casual gesture
“Don’t be dramatic, Ava. I told Gabriel he could stop by. I gave him the spare key last month when I was worried about the pipes.”
Pipes? She was worried about pipes?
Not about her twenty-four-year-old daughter getting thr
