Gabriel's Hope

No Immortals showed up on her doorstep the first two days after she left the French Alps. Deidre began to relax. She settled into the luxe penthouse and learned her way around the neighborhood. As the third day came to a close, she suspected they - more specifically, Gabriel ­- had really let her go. After the first glass of wine, she was convinced. A second glass led her to think it was all her fault. After the fifth, she was certain she'd dreamt it all up. Or died and gone to hell.

A bottle of wine later, Deidre found herself sobbing on the couch. She didn't try to test the portals, fearing they wouldn't work. It was clear he wasn't coming for her. He'd spent the past three nights in bed with another woman after completely destroying her whole world!

Her wine headache stuck with her throughout the morning on the fourth day. Not even Wynn - who claimed to be her friend - came to find her. She didn't expect to be so suddenly written off by everyone. Like she was dead.

But she wasn't yet.

Deidre forced her attention from her own issues and outward as she walked through the street fair in downtown Atlanta. Her sunglasses and hat blocked the sun but not the heat, which fed her pulsing head. She wore one of the dresses past-Deidre bought. It wasn't something she'd consider any other time, a form-fitting jersey knit with spaghetti straps probably more suited for sleeping than wearing out.

She caught sight of herself in a store window. At least she looked good and was comfortable, even though she felt awful. Would someone like Gabriel notice her, if they crossed paths as random strangers at the festival? Her gaze fell to the tall woman in a slip of a dress that walked by her.

No way in hell. She was too short. No wonder she settled for Logan. Not that it mattered, but she'd need five inch heels to catch the gaze of someone as sexy as Gabriel. And maybe, a different body. A bigger smile. Larger breasts. Definitely some advice from someone who understood make-up better and a real hair stylist who could figure out how to un-pink hair.

"Dammit!"

She had to get him out of her mind. He'd made her an offer. She'd refused. He was moving on while depositing her back at the same crossroads where he'd found her last week. How long until he kicked her out of the apartment, the final act of abandonment after disrupting everything in her life?

The tattoo hadn't faded either, just like her memory of the sweet man who made love to her.