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“Gabriel—”

“Go and have your dinner, April.” His voice is gentle.

Which is somehow worse. Because I don’t want to let go. I don’t want him to turn to stone and for big, imposing, ridiculously handsome Gabriel to go away. And that’s a problem. A very big, very inconvenient problem. In my continued quest to have dysfunctional relationships, I’ve developed a crush on a gargoyle.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

He nods. “Quite.”

I hesitate. Then slowly release his hand.

He stands from the sofa and takes a few steps away before he’s no longer able to move his legs. The gray spreads. His fingers stiffen. His shoulders begin to change.

And for one terrible moment, I want to grab him again. To stop it. To keep him here. With me.

But I don’t. Because he asked me not to. Because he deserves to make his own choices. Even if I don’t particularly like this one.

A moment later, Gabriel is gone, and Rocky is now sitting next to my sofa. But the end table near the sofa is now a jumbled mess of broken wood.

I stare at him. “Well,” I say.

Indeed.

I let out a shaky laugh. “You know, you’re going to ruin my furniture if you keep doing that.”

An unfortunate consequence.

I smile. Then reach out and rest my hand against his stone cheek. Just for a moment, not long enough to change him. Just long enough to feel the cool granite beneath my palm.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

For what?

I think about him telling me I deserved better. About the way he listened. About how he made me laugh. About how he looked at those pictures of the world with such wonder.

“For today.”

There’s a pause.

Then his voice fills my head. The pleasure was mine, April.

My chest tightens. For the first time in a very long time, I’m not thinking about everything I’ve lost.

I’m thinking about what I might have found.

chapter

nine

Gabriel

I have come to the conclusion that April Stevens is trying to kill me.

Not literally, of course. Although there have been several incidents involving ladders, power tools, and her questionable understanding of electrical wiring that have given me cause for concern.

No, I mean that she is going to be the death of what little remains of my dignity.

For one thing, she has begun referring to me as her boyfriend. Not to my face. To the people she speaks with on her telephone.