Operation Breathless by Marianne Evans

possible means of evasion. Perhaps she could stall her arrival at the party. Better yet, she could arrive late, grab a fast bite to eat, wish Gabe well, then vanish into her apartment.
    Pia would call her out on that kind of behavior, though.
    Focused on the road ahead, Susanna addressed the girls. “I need to grab a few groceries. Will you two be OK on your own for an hour or so?”
    “Depends on your movie selections,” Layla teased.
    Susanna laughed in spite of her mood, connecting her gaze to Layla’s via the rearview mirror. “Please. I have every chick-flick known to humankind.”
    “Cool!”
    Susanna resumed plotting. She’d make potato salad. It was a group favorite, and it would satisfy that sentimental urge to somehow reclaim the moments she had shared with Gabe at their first barbeque, when time had stretched before them like a hopeful roadway leading to everything she most desired.
    She shook free of that thought, issuing a frustrated sound. The food prep would be long and complex…plus the salad would need to chill, and marinade…it would be perfect. Time consuming.
    Blowing out a resigned sigh, Susanna chided herself for letting a cooking stall tactic gain momentum.
     
     
     

9
     
    The woman was in tears.
    An achingly solitary figure, she sat on a park bench along the edge of a windswept walkway. Her sadness left Gabe’s heart to ache. He understood her pain. A few plastic grocery sacks decorated the ground at her feet, ignored as she wiped her eyes.
    Distracted from walking his beloved German Shepherd—who already fought the confines of his leash and lurched toward the woman repeatedly—Gabe knelt and tucked a folded set of papers into the dog’s collar. “Go get her, buddy,” he whispered.
    He unhooked the leash, staying squatted while his dog charged happily ahead.
    And plopped dirty paws straight onto her lap.
    The lovely lady jumped then covered her wavering lips. She let out a cry, wrapping her arms around the dog’s neck and burying her face in his fur. Axle, the loving goon, panted happily and let her absorb his warmth and affection.
    Gabe smiled, and trotted forward to join them. “Axle, down. C’mon…you’re making her filthy.”
    “I don’t care. Leave him alone.”
    Her words were muffled because her head remained buried against Axle’s neck, and she kept her head turned away from Gabe.
    “Susanna…please…look at me. You need to see something.” He kept his voice low and gentle, reflective of the tenderness he felt. The love, too.
    “I’m going to miss you so much.” Susanna ignored Gabe’s request, devoutly avoiding eye contact. For now he let her.
    “Was that comment directed toward me, or Axle?”
    She turned at last and lifted her tear-reddened eyes. “Both.”
    “Susanna…”
    She straightened and faced him at last; he could almost see her grappling for strength and determination. “I won’t get a chance to say much to you in private at the party later on, but I want to tell you something.”
    She held herself stiff and straight. In her eyes, he saw the battle that took place between her head and her spirit.
    “Don’t have any doubts about yourself, Gabe Peretti. Go back to Michigan and take Detroit by storm. You’ll slay those dragons. You’re a natural. Never forget how you helped save Layla. You gave her a chance. You’re amazing.”
    He could tell by the roughness of her voice that those words cost her dearly. Releasing him—and their relationship—tore her to shreds.
    He knew the feeling. So, last night, he had made some important decisions. Before responding, his gaze tracked to the papers sticking out of Axle’s collar, which Susanna had simply ignored. “God gave Layla a chance by changing her heart. You gave her the chance by giving her the support she needed.”
    “You were part of that process. Don’t ever forget it.”
    Her red eyes and sorrowful expression were his undoing. He sat next to her and cupped her face between his hands,