7- AuroraWhen I get home Gabriel is there to greet me. Well, he’s sitting on the couch working on his laptop. He’s not in his suit, he’s dressed in what he calls business comfortable—tan dress pants and a navy pullover, like a younger, smugger Mr. Rogers.“Hey. You’re back.”I drop my bag by the door and toe off my flats. “You didn’t answer your phone.”Still typing. “Yeah, I had a call. Thought you were taking a car anyway.”“I tried calling you first.”Pause. “Well. You made it. That’s what matters.” He hasn’t looked back up at me. I don’t respond. I’m too tired to pick a fight I won’t win.We moved in together about a year ago. Not all at once—it was a slow drift, one overnight bag at a time until suddenly, half his wardrobe was in my closet and we were sharing a lease. It made sense. We both work in high-stress industries, we’re both ambitious, and if we didn’t share a roof, we’d probably never see each other. After college we both landed lucrative jobs that are really demanding
Last Updated : 2025-03-24 Read more