The Lease Up

18. Telling Encounters

VANESSA

My heart painfully stutters in my chest hearing my father's disapproving voice. I step away from Gabriel whose eyes narrow in confusion, his gaze lifting over my shoulder. Meanwhile, my eyes widen through the reflection of the glass window behind Gabriel when I confirm my father is standing behind me.

"Hey, Dad." I struggle to keep my voice steady under his critical gaze.

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

There's no 'hello' or 'hey, how are you?' Nope. That wouldn't be normal. In fact, that would worry me more than his usual cold treatment.

"I'm on a lunch break." I force my feet to move and greet my father with a kiss on the cheek and a brief hug. One of his arms wraps around me, but just as quickly releases me. His dark eyes are assessing and fixated behind me.

"Who's your friend?" Dad nods his head toward Gabriel.

"Oh, this is a colleague," I answer vaguely. If I give my Dad his name, he'll no doubt look into him and I don't want the insinuations or unfair judgements to fall on Gabriel as usually happens when it comes to who I date.

But of course, Gabriel can't help himself and extends his hand out. "Gabriel Tate. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Torres." My father shakes his hand.

A strange moment of silence passes as we stand in the middle of the sidewalk surrounded by the New York city hustle and bustle. People sidestepping around us, in a rush to get to their destinations. A part of me wants to merge right along with the crowd and maybe no one would notice.

Gabriel reaches for my hand but as soon as his fingers brush against mine, I lift my hand to tuck my hair behind my ear and shift the food container of my lunch leftovers to the hand closest to him. I swallow the uncomfortable lump in my throat seeing the wounded look in his eyes, but he quickly masks it and slides his hands into his pants pockets.

My parents' disdain for public display of affection has been ingrained in my head since I can remember. I can honestly say I never witnessed a hug or hand holding between them. The occasional peck on the cheek is the only form of intimacy I recall from my childhood.

"You look tired," My father states. "Work stress?"

I shake my head. "No. Work is fine. Great." I state, shifting my feet under the heavy questioning glare coming from Gabriel. The last thing I need to admit to my father is that I'm currently questioning my choice of career field with all the crap going on right now, when he wasn't exactly supportive to begin with when he learned of my change of plans.

Gabriel's phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket. "I have to take this. It was good to meet you, sir." He nods at my father before leaning in to kiss my cheek but I awkwardly dodge him and then hold my hand out in a fist bump.

"Thanks for lunch."

His dark eyes fall to my closed fist then they rise slowly to me before he walks away without saying anything, answering his phone. By the tone of his voice, it's clear he's pissed.

Shit.

Pushing aside the strong urge to go after him, I turn, forcing a smile on my face. My father looks back at me with his busy eyebrow raised high, pursing his lips.

Knowing the look on his face, I rush into a slew of questions before he begins his. "How's mom? How's work? Are you working on a new case? Isn't this weather amazing?"

The edges of his eyes narrow and he responds to only one question, but of course it's not an answer, not really. "Why don't you pick up the phone and call your mother, ask how she's doing yourself?"