As Long As You Love Me ✓

13. Fatal Optimist

That brought up an interesting question. Which Zari would he like better? The old or new version? Didn't really matter much which one he preferred, since both would leave as soon as her brain healed. She'd go back to that Perry dude. He had no misguided assumptions that Zari would ever get her memory back and decide she actually preferred Gabriel to her actual boyfriend.

Damn. Gabriel had never met him and already disliked him. What kind of jerk never came to visit his unconscious girlfriend? More importantly, how could anyone love a man like that? He'd stuck with Rosie through two rounds of rehab, when Zari's boyfriend couldn't even make time for one measly visit. Even her family didn't seem to care much for the guy, if Matthew's reaction said anything about it. It only added to his instant dislike of this faceless Perry, who seemed more storybook villain in his head than an awful boyfriend.

Still, he wouldn't be much better off once she found out he'd been lying and taking advantage of her all this time. With the added bonus of her entire family, and several others as part of the scheme, she'd probably never trust anyone ever again.

This entire situation was conjuring up old heartache again. Even after all Rosie had done, Gabriel still loved her for a long time. At least the old Rosie. Not the one that lied and cheated. The drugged-out girl who killed his unborn baby without telling him about it. It was her body, but he'd have gone with her to the clinic; he'd have helped her.

Zari roused, rubbed her eyes, then smiled. "Hey, are you really here, or am I dreaming?"

He whispered a laugh to mask his shock. "You dream about me?" He wanted to ask her to describe these dreams, but he couldn't voice the question.

She pushed herself up in bed. "All the time." He choked down the glimmer of disappointment. It couldn't be him she was dreaming about; at least, not the reality of him, but her faux belief that he was hers before the accident.

"Do you ever dream about me?"

Damn it. "I don't remember my dreams." Another lie for the ever growing list.

"Come over here."

Cocking his head, he eyed her. Getting closer proved dangerous. Last time he did, she copped a feel. "Promise you won't molest me?"

"That's a terrible word. It means I'm forcing myself on you. Is that how you feel?" Her voice cracked and in that instant, he wanted to hug her, press his thumb against the crease between her brows and smooth it out.

But he didn't know how to answer that question. Didn't want to hurt her feelings, but didn't want to encourage her either. "I guess that was the wrong choice. I apologize." He stood and scooted his chair next to her bed. "I didn't mean to wake you." He sat and leaned closer. "I can't stay long. Have to be up early for work."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, weary. "I don't remember what you do."

He'd not thought of it before, but this could be a good thing. The more she learned about him, the more likely she'd be to realize he wasn't Perry. Maybe the rest would follow. He forced the thought away; rich girls like her didn't fall in love with guys like him. The riff-raff from the other side of the tracks. They, however, did fall in love with jackasses like Perry, who hadn't even checked on her yet. He had to quench this small bit of jealousy gathering in his stomach at a guy he'd never even met, or cared to meet.

"I work for the power company. I'm a lineman."

She rubbed her hand across her forehead and squinted. "Oh. So, you're the guy who stands in a bucket to work on power lines?"

"That's me."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Currently number seven on the top ten most dangerous jobs in America. That's why I'll cut my visit short. Can't be sluggish when dealing with high voltage."