Updated Oct 29, 2025 • ~15 min read
Jane made it through exactly two hours of her shift at the bookstore before Gabriel walked in.
She was shelving new releases in the fiction section, back to the door, when she heard the bell chime. She turned automatically with her customer service smile already in place.
It died on her lips.
Gabriel stood just inside the entrance, hands in his pockets, looking around the small shop with that same careful attention he’d given her apartment. He was wearing jeans and a dark henley, looking less like an architect and more like someone who belonged in this sleepy coastal town.
He looked directly at her. “Hi.”
Jane glanced at Marcus behind the register. He was watching with interest—probably wondering who this tall, handsome stranger was and why Jane looked like she’d seen a ghost.
She walked over to Gabriel, keeping her voice low. “What are you doing here?”
“Buying a book.” He pulled one off the nearest display—didn’t even look at the cover. “This one looks good.”
Jane looked down. He was holding a romance novel with a shirtless man on the cover. “That’s a historical romance about a Scottish laird.”
“Perfect. Love Scottish lairds.” He didn’t smile, but his eyes held a challenge. “Can you ring me up?”
She wanted to refuse. Wanted to tell him to leave. But Marcus was still watching, and making a scene would only raise questions she couldn’t answer.
Jane took the book and walked to the register. Gabriel followed.
“Jane, you want to introduce me to your friend?” Marcus asked, friendly but curious.
“He’s not—” She stopped. Tried again. “This is Gabriel. He’s just… passing through town.”
“Gabriel Astor.” He extended a hand to Marcus, who shook it. “I’m here for a few weeks consulting on that resort project.”
“Ah, the Harborview development.” Marcus nodded. “Heard they brought in someone from out of state. You’re an architect?”
“Structural consultant. Making sure they don’t build something that’ll fall into the ocean during the first nor’easter.”
Marcus laughed. “Smart man. That’ll be fourteen ninety-five for the book.”
Gabriel pulled out his wallet, handed over a twenty. While Marcus made change, Gabriel looked at Jane. “What time do you get off work?”
“Six,” she said automatically, then cursed herself.
“Great. I’ll buy you dinner. That diner on Main Street looked decent.”
“I can’t—”
“Sure you can.” He took his change from Marcus, pocketed it. “Call it catching up. We have a lot to talk about.”
The emphasis on the last sentence was slight but unmistakable. A reminder that he knew her secrets. That he could expose everything with a single phone call.
Jane’s jaw clenched. “Fine. Six o’clock.”
“Looking forward to it.” Gabriel took his book—his ridiculous Scottish laird romance—and left, the bell chiming cheerfully behind him.
Marcus watched him go, then turned to Jane with raised eyebrows. “So. Gabriel.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Uh-huh. The way he looked at you says otherwise.”
“Marcus—”
“I’m just saying, honey. You’ve been here three months and I’ve never seen you talk to anyone except me and Mrs. Gallagher. And now Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome shows up asking you to dinner?” Marcus grinned. “That’s something.”
“It’s really not.” Jane went back to shelving books, trying to ignore the way her hands were shaking. “He’s just someone I used to know. From before.”
“Before what?”
Before I died. Before I ran. Before everything fell apart.
“Before I moved here,” Jane said. “It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated, sweetheart. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”
Jane didn’t answer. She just kept shelving books, watching the clock, dreading six o’clock.
Gabriel was waiting outside when she locked up.
He was leaning against the brick wall of the bookstore, that Scottish romance tucked under his arm, looking for all the world like someone who had every right to be there.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No.” But Jane started walking toward the diner anyway. If this was happening, better to get it over with. “You can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Show up at my work. Buy books you don’t want. Ask me to dinner in front of my boss.” She walked faster, forcing him to keep pace. “You’re drawing attention. That’s the opposite of what I need.”
“I know. But you wouldn’t answer your door this afternoon, and we need to talk.”
“We talked this morning.”
“You threatened me and kicked me out. That’s not talking.” Gabriel pulled open the diner door, held it for her. “After you.”
The diner was half-full—locals mostly, people Jane recognized by sight if not by name. They looked up when she walked in with Gabriel, and she could practically hear the gossip starting. Jane Mercer with a man. A stranger. How interesting.
They slid into a booth in the back. A waitress Jane didn’t know—probably new, seasonal help leaving before winter really hit—came over with menus and a smile.
“What can I get you folks to drink?”
“Coffee,” Gabriel said. “And whatever she’s having.”
“Decaf tea.” Jane didn’t open her menu. “And a grilled cheese.”
“Make that two grilled cheeses,” Gabriel added. “And fries.”
The waitress left. Jane folded her hands on the table and looked at Gabriel directly.
“You need to stop,” she said quietly. “Stop showing up. Stop pushing. Stop acting like we’re friends or—or something more. We’re nothing. I’m nobody to you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. I was your brother’s wife. Past tense. Now I’m dead. That’s the end of the story.”
Gabriel leaned forward, voice just as quiet. “Except you’re not dead. You’re right here. And I can’t just walk away knowing what I know.”
“Why not? You walked away before. For years. You avoided family events, barely spoke to me. Why do you suddenly care now?”
The words came out harsher than she intended, but she was past caring. She was tired. Scared. And having Gabriel Astor sit across from her in a public place, looking at her with those intense eyes like she mattered, was threatening to crack something inside her that she’d worked very hard to keep sealed.
Gabriel was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was raw.
“Because I was a coward before. Because watching you trapped in that marriage, watching you disappear into yourself year after year, and doing nothing about it—that’s something I have to live with.” His hands clenched on the table. “I told myself it wasn’t my business. That you were an adult, that you’d leave if you wanted to. But the truth is, I knew what David was. I knew he’d destroy you eventually. And I stood by and let it happen.”
“You couldn’t have stopped it.”
“I could have tried. I could have said something. I could have—” He stopped, jaw working. “I could have done a lot of things. But I was too busy protecting myself. Too busy avoiding the family drama. Too busy being the disappointing younger brother who couldn’t be bothered to show up.”
Jane stared at him. “Why did you avoid family events?”
Gabriel looked away. Out the window at Main Street, at the gathering dusk. “Because seeing you with him hurt too much.”
The confession hung between them.
“What does that mean?” Jane’s voice came out barely above a whisper.
“It means—” He turned back to face her. “It means I watched my brother marry someone good and kind and genuine. Someone who deserved to be happy. And I watched him systematically tear you apart. And every time I saw you at a dinner or a holiday, you were a little less yourself. A little quieter. A little more broken.” His expression was pained. “And I couldn’t stand it. So I stopped coming.”
“That’s not—” Jane swallowed hard. “That’s not your fault.”
“Isn’t it? I knew what he was and I said nothing. To you. To anyone.”
“What would you have said? ‘Hey, sister-in-law I barely know, my brother’s a sociopath’? I wouldn’t have believed you.”
“Maybe not at first. But if I’d tried—if I’d warned you—maybe things would have been different.”
“Or maybe they would have been exactly the same.” Jane’s hands moved to her belly unconsciously. “I loved him. Or I thought I did. I wouldn’t have listened.”
The waitress returned with their drinks and food. They sat in silence until she left again.
Gabriel pushed his plate toward Jane. “Eat. You’re pregnant. You need to eat.”
“Don’t tell me what I need.”
“Someone should. When’s the last time you had a real meal?”
Jane picked up half of her grilled cheese just to stop him from looking at her like that—like she was fragile, like she needed protecting. She took a bite. It was actually good. Buttery and warm and comforting in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Gabriel spoke again.
“Tell me what happened. The night you left. I need to understand.”
Jane set down her sandwich. “Why?”
“Because three months ago, David called me panicking. Said you were missing. Said you’d left without explanation and he couldn’t find you.” Gabriel’s expression darkened. “And I knew—I knew—something had happened. But he played the worried husband perfectly. Got the police involved, organized searches, did the whole crying-for-the-cameras routine. And I had to stand there and pretend I believed him.”
“You didn’t believe him?”
“Not for a second. David doesn’t panic. David doesn’t cry. David calculates.” He met her eyes. “So I need to know what he did. What made you run.”
Jane was quiet for a long moment. Then she started talking.
She told him about the anniversary. About coming home early. About hearing them in the study—David and Vivienne, laughing about her, mocking her fertility struggles, planning their future together.
She told him about seeing Vivienne wearing her grandmother’s necklace.
About David’s words: One more year and I can file for divorce without the prenup penalty.
About realizing her entire marriage had been a lie.
Gabriel’s expression grew darker with every word. His hands clenched into fists on the table.
“And then,” Jane continued, voice steady even though her hands were shaking, “I found out I was pregnant. That same day. I’d been planning to surprise him at our anniversary dinner.” She laughed, but it came out bitter. “Can you imagine? I was so happy. So stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid.”
“I was. I missed every sign. Every red flag. I was so desperate to make the marriage work, so focused on having a baby, that I didn’t see what was right in front of me.”
“He’s good at hiding what he is,” Gabriel said quietly. “Our parents never saw it. Half the business world thinks he’s brilliant and charismatic. You’re not the first person he’s fooled.”
“But I should have known. I lived with him. I—” Her voice cracked. “I shared his bed. How did I not know?”
Gabriel reached across the table, covered her hand with his. The gesture was so unexpected that Jane froze.
“Because you’re not him,” Gabriel said. “Because you trusted your husband. Because you’re a good person who assumes other people are good too. That’s not a weakness, Celeste—” He stopped. “Jane. That’s not a weakness.”
Jane pulled her hand back slowly. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Try to make me feel better about being an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. You were manipulated by an expert.” Gabriel’s voice held barely restrained anger. “And now you’re here. Alone. Pregnant. Living under a fake name because my brother tried to kill you.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Don’t I?” He leaned forward. “You said a truck forced you off the road. That the driver never stopped. That happened two days after you overheard them, right? Two days after David might have realized you knew?”
Jane’s stomach clenched. “I never thought—I mean, I wondered, but—”
“David doesn’t take chances. If he thought you might expose his affair, might fight the divorce, might go to the foundation board or the press—” Gabriel shook his head. “He’d eliminate the problem. Make it look like an accident. Collect the life insurance and the sympathy and move on.”
The words made her feel sick.
Because Gabriel was right.
She’d known it, deep down. Known that the “accident” was too convenient, too perfectly timed. But hearing it said out loud, by someone who knew David, who understood what he was capable of—
“He tried to kill me,” Jane whispered. “And our baby.”
“Yeah. He did.” Gabriel’s voice was rough. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry he’s my brother. I’m sorry you ever met him. I’m sorry I didn’t do something sooner to stop this.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It feels like my fault.”
They sat in the booth as the diner filled up around them, as other people laughed and talked and lived their normal lives. Jane felt disconnected from all of it. Like she was watching through glass.
“Why are you here?” she asked finally. “In Seabrook Bay. You said it was random?”
Gabriel nodded. “I got a call about the resort project three weeks ago. They needed a structural consultant, and I was available. I didn’t even look at the location until I was already driving up.” He shook his head. “And then I saw you on that beach and—Christ. I thought I was hallucinating. Thought grief had finally made me lose it.”
“Grief?”
“I thought you were dead.” His voice was raw. “We all did. The burned car, no body, no trace. The memorial was—” He stopped. “It doesn’t matter. You’re alive. That’s what matters.”
“What was the memorial like?” Jane shouldn’t ask. Didn’t want to know. But the question came out anyway.
Gabriel’s expression shuttered. “You don’t want to know.”
“Tell me anyway.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then: “It was at the estate. Big production. David invited everyone—business contacts, foundation board members, your family. Vivienne gave a speech about losing her sister. Cried the whole time.” His voice was flat. “Very convincing.”
Jane’s hands clenched. “She was there? Speaking? About me?”
“Yeah. And your mother. And a bunch of people from the foundation who talked about your charity work.” He looked at her directly. “David’s speech was the worst. Talked about losing the love of his life. About how you were his everything. About the family you were supposed to have together.”
“While screwing my sister.”
“While screwing your sister,” Gabriel confirmed. “I wanted to stand up and expose him right there. Tell everyone what he really was. But I didn’t have proof. Just instincts. And David would have destroyed me for it.”
Jane felt tears burning behind her eyes. She blinked them back. “Thank you. For telling me.”
“I wish I didn’t have to.”
They finished their meal in heavy silence. When the check came, Gabriel paid before Jane could protest.
Outside the diner, Main Street was dark except for streetlights and the glow from shop windows. Cold November wind whipped off the ocean.
“Let me walk you home,” Gabriel said.
“I can walk myself.”
“I know you can. Let me anyway.”
Jane was too tired to argue. They walked in silence, past closed shops and the occasional car passing. Past the bookstore where she’d spend tomorrow shelving other people’s happy endings. Past the bakery where Mrs. Gallagher would have fresh scones waiting in the morning.
Past all the small kindnesses of her new life.
At her building, Jane stopped. “This is me.”
Gabriel looked up at the dark window of her apartment. “Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Are you happy? Here?”
Jane considered the question. “I’m safe. That’s better than happy.”
“It shouldn’t have to be either-or.”
“Maybe someday it won’t be.” She touched her belly. “For now, safe is enough.”
Gabriel nodded slowly. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out another business card—not the one from this morning, a different one. He wrote something on the back before handing it to her.
“That’s my personal cell. And my hotel room number. In case you need anything. Anything at all.”
Jane took the card, though she didn’t plan to use it. “You’re wasting your time with me.”
“I don’t think so.” He stepped back, giving her space. “Goodnight, Jane.”
“Goodnight.”
She climbed the stairs to her apartment, feeling his eyes on her the whole way. When she reached her door and looked back down, he was still standing there.
Watching. Waiting. Making sure she got inside safely.
Like someone who cared.
Jane went inside, locked the door, and leaned against it.
Gabriel Astor was going to be a problem.
Because part of her—the part that was tired of being alone, that was terrified of giving birth without anyone there, that remembered what it felt like to have someone care—wanted to let him in.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
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