Everyone Had a Key but Me novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Key I Wouldn't Take
Claire finds Gabe's childhood friend letting herself into his home with her own key, refuses a key from the friend's brother, ends it by text and accepts a job in Copenhagen; Gabe answers: not accepted.
Allegra came in through the kitchen door wearing Gabe's grey slippers, a grocery bag on her hip, and locked it behind her with her own key.
I stood in his foyer with my coat still on.
The doorman had sent me up without calling first.
"Miss Allegra said to let you through," he'd told me.
In three years, Gabe had always come down to the lobby for me himself.
"You must be Claire." Allegra's smile was warm. "Gabe's told me so much. Hold this a second?"
She put the bag in my arms.
Then she hung her keys on a brass hook by the door, next to his.
Just inside the door hung a framed photograph.
Gabe was about twenty in it, laughing, and Allegra had both arms around his neck.
Through the glass, I could see him on the terrace with his back to me, on the phone.
"Please don't take it personally that you wait downstairs," Allegra said kindly.
"Gabe doesn't let outsiders into his home. It's never been about you."
"But you have a key."
"We grew up together." She lifted her chin. "His mother always said I'd be the next Donna Santangelo."
"Every Sunday," a man called from the living room. "Bella. Easy. You know how Gabe feels about Claire."
She laughed.
"His mother said it in front of him, too. Honestly, Claire, what kind of girlfriend doesn't have a key?"
I looked at the photograph again.
Then I took out my phone, where I had a message to Gabe half typed: Can we talk about a key?
I had typed some version of it four times in three years.
I deleted it.
I wasn't going to ask a fifth time.
I set the groceries on the hall table and walked out.
I was crossing the lobby when my phone rang.
"Claire." Gabe's voice was low and easy. "Don't let Allegra get to you. She opens her mouth before she thinks."
"How long has she been living here?"
He paused.
"Her apartment's being renovated. It's a few days."
"There are hotels."
"I have three empty guest rooms. Why would I put her in a hotel?"
Then he sighed.
"Come back up, sweetheart. Let's have dinner."
"Your rule was that your home is private," I said. "You meant private from me."
"That's not what I meant."
"Then you should have been clearer."
"It's a photograph and a spare key. You're making it into something it isn't."
Behind him, Allegra said something I couldn't hear, and his voice cooled.
"Come up when you're ready to talk."
He hung up.
By the glass doors, a small brass plate under the new door panel read Pellegrino Security.
Allegra's brother's company had put that system in last spring.
The doorman did not look up from his paper sign-in book as I passed.
Gabe's father had trusted paper, and the habit had stayed.
"Claire!" Bruno came in from the street carrying two bottles of wine.
He ran the family's legitimate businesses and had known Gabe since they were boys.
"Where are you going? Dinner's nearly ready."
"Something came up."
"Then here."
He shifted both bottles into one arm and took a key from his coat pocket.
The brass was bright and new.
"Let yourself in when you're back."
I stared at it.
Everyone in Gabe's life had a key.
The only person who called from the lobby and waited to be collected was me.
Gabe called it privacy.
Boundaries.
Respect.
Funny how those principles only ever applied to one person.
"Thanks," I said. "I won't need it."
I left before he could ask me why.
In the cab, my phone buzzed with a video from Allegra.
Gabe's coffee table was covered in pasta and open bottles, his friends scattered across the rug and the sofas.
Gabe sat in the middle with his tie loosened, more relaxed than he ever looked at a restaurant with me.
Allegra was tucked against his side.
She ate a shrimp he had just peeled for her, then held her wineglass up to his mouth.
Someone off camera laughed.
"Come on, Gabe. You two look married already. Make it official."
Gabe's smile dropped.
He sat up, his mouth opening.
The video ended there.
Whatever he said next, Allegra had made sure I wouldn't hear it.
When the cab stopped outside my building, the driver held out a tissue.
I hadn't known I was crying.
"Rough night?"
"A little."
I wiped my face, thanked him, and got out.
On the sidewalk, I sent Gabe one message.
We're done, Gabe. I'm ending this.
Then I opened an email I'd been ignoring for two weeks.
My old supervisor had offered me a place on her research team in Copenhagen.
I had nearly turned it down.
I typed my reply without deleting a single word.
If the position is still open, I'll take it. I can leave tomorrow.
Her answer came within minutes.
It's yours, Claire. My coordinator will book your flight.
For the first time that evening, I could breathe.
Then Gabe's reply lit up my screen.
Not accepted. Bellini's tomorrow, six o'clock. Tell me to my face. I'll bring your mother's bracelet.
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