Chapter 41: Auntie's Jealousy Erupts!
Gabriel's POV
I watched Luna fidget with the hem of her dress as we walked toward the hotel restaurant. She'd been shooting me death glares ever since I'd "accidentally misplaced" her underwear. Not my fault if I wanted to make sure she couldn't run off too easily.
"You know I'll give them back," I said, leaning close to her ear. "Eventually."
She elbowed me in the ribs. "You're such an ass."
"An ass you love," I reminded her, thoroughly enjoying the flush that spread across her cheeks. Getting those three words out of her this morning had been worth the effort—and the wait.
The restaurant came into view, and I spotted Isabella and Oliver already seated at a table by the window. The tension between them was visible from twenty feet away. Oliver was staring into his coffee like it held the secrets of the universe, while Isabella was scrolling through her phone with exaggerated focus.
"Looks like we're walking into a war zone," I muttered.
Luna glanced up at me. "What's going on with them?"
I just raised an eyebrow. She'd find out soon enough.
As we approached, Oliver looked up, relief washing over his face at the interruption. "Finally. I was about to send a search party."
"Sorry we're late," I said, pulling out Luna's chair before taking my own. "We got... held up."
Luna kicked me under the table, but I just smirked.
Isabella finally set her phone down. "Good morning, Luna. I hope you're feeling better after last night's excitement."
"Much better, thank you," Luna replied, reaching for the water glass in front of her. I noticed her eyes drift to Oliver's bandaged hand resting on the table. Concern immediately flickered across her face.
"Oliver, what happened to your hand?" she asked.
He shifted uncomfortably, flexing his bandaged fingers. "Just a small injury. Nothing serious."
"Did it happen last night? When you helped me?" The worry in Luna's voice was genuine. She'd always had a soft spot for my friend, something I found both endearing and occasionally annoying.
Before Oliver could answer, Isabella let out a small, humorless laugh. "Luna, don't worry yourself. He did that entirely on his own. It has nothing to do with you."
Oliver's jaw clenched, and he stopped eating, his fork hovering above his plate. The air between him and Isabella practically crackled with tension.
"How's your hand feeling now?" Isabella continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I heard Mr. Devon spent all night getting it treated. It must be much better by now, right?"
The emphasis she placed on "all night" wasn't subtle. I watched Oliver's expression darken further.
"Thanks for your concern, Aunt. I'm fine," he replied, his voice flat and cold.
Luna shot me a confused look, clearly sensing the hostility but not understanding its source. I gave her a slight shake of my head and mouthed "later." This wasn't my drama to explain.
"Should we order?" I suggested, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Luna nodded gratefully, but I could tell she was still concerned about Oliver's injury and the obvious tension.
As we gave our orders to the waiter, Luna leaned closer to me. "What's going on with them?" she whispered.
"Eat your breakfast," I murmured back. "Let them work it out."
She frowned, clearly annoyed at being kept in the dark.
Isabella set down her fork after just a few bites. "Luna, I'm full. You take your time, but I think I'll head back to my room to rest."
Luna immediately looked alarmed. "Are you feeling okay? I'll come with you."
Before I could stop her, Luna was on her feet, following Isabella who was already walking away. Great. So much for our breakfast together.
As soon as the women were out of earshot, Oliver pushed his plate away and stood up abruptly.
"Sit down," I commanded, my voice leaving no room for argument.
"Fuck off, Gabe," he growled, but he sank back into his chair anyway, running his good hand through his hair in frustration.
"I'm the one getting hurt here," he complained, his voice tight with emotion. "Why am I the one getting the cold shoulder? Why is she treating me like I'm the villain?"
I leaned back in my chair, studying my friend's miserable expression. "You know, I was looking forward to spending some quality time with Luna this morning. Instead, I'm dealing with your relationship drama."
"Relationship drama?" Oliver scoffed. "There is no relationship. She made that perfectly clear."
"You've been dancing around each other for what, nine years now?"
"Three thousand one hundred and ninety-seven days," Oliver muttered under his breath.
I raised an eyebrow. The fact that he knew the exact count was telling.
"You're pathetic," I said, but there was no real heat in my words.
Oliver's expression shifted from misery to something more calculating. "Speaking of which, Luna's only engaged to Chase. Why are you acting like your world is ending?"
"At least I'm doing something about it," I shot back. "Unlike you, pining away for nearly a decade."
Oliver slouched in his chair. "I don't know what to do anymore. She hurts me, then acts like I'm the one hurting her. Yesterday she practically ripped my heart out, and today she's taking jabs at me in public. She doesn't want to make up."
I watched him over the rim of my coffee cup. "Is this your first day realizing she wants to end things with you?"
Oliver didn't answer, but his expression said it all. We both knew this wasn't news. Isabella had been trying to create distance between them for years.
"Look," I said finally, setting down my cup. "Instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, why don't you think about what she actually said?"
"What do you mean?" He frowned.
"Her exact words, Oliver. Think about them."
He stared at me blankly for a moment, then his eyes widened as realization dawned. "Wait... when she mentioned me spending 'all night' getting treatment... Was she..." His voice trailed off, then came back stronger. "Is she jealous?"