He was quiet for a minute, and I thought maybe that was it. Then he went on. “I saw you up ahead on the beach, walking away from us.”
I rolled onto my side, listening intently.
“Your hair was blowing in the breeze and the sun lit it up. I thought it was beautiful. I pointed you out to my dad. I wanted you to turn your head so we could see your face. I knew you were gorgeous. I wanted him to see you.”
Tears welled in my eyes and slid down to wet my pillow.
“I tried to run after you. I was pulling at his hand and he was holding me back, laughing about chasing pretty girls at my age.”
I could picture the scene so clearly in my mind. I could almost feel the brisk breeze whipping through my hair and hear the seagulls calling. I could see the young Gideon in the picture he’d given me and the handsome, charismatic Geoffrey Cross.
I wanted a future like that. With Gideon walking down the beach with our son who looked just like him, my husband laughing because our troubles were behind us and a bright, happy future lay ahead of us.
But he’d called it a nightmare, so I knew that future I envisioned wasn’t one he saw.
“I was tugging so hard on his hand,” he continued, “digging my bare feet into the sand for traction. But he was so much stronger than me. You were walking farther and farther away. He laughed again. Only this time, it wasn’t his laugh. It was Hugh’s. And when I looked up again, it wasn’t my father anymore.”
“Oh, Gideon.” I sobbed his name, unable to hold back the sympathy and grief. And the relief that he was talking to me at last.
“He told me you didn’t want me, that you were going away because you knew everything and it made you sick. That you couldn’t get away fast enough.”
“That’s not true!” I sat up in bed. “You know that’s not true. I love you. It’s because I love you so much that I’m thinking so hard about this. Us.”
“I’m trying to give you space. But I feel like it would be so easy for us to drift apart. A day goes by, then another. You’ll find a new routine without me in it . . . Christ, Eva, I don’t want you to get over me.”
I spoke in a rush, my thoughts tumbling out of my mouth. “There’s a way to get through this, Gideon, I know there is. But when I’m with you I lose myself in you. I just want to be with you and to be happy, so I let things ride and put them off. We make love and I think we’ll be okay, because we have that and it’s perfect.”
“It is perfect. It’s everything.”
“When you’re inside me, looking at me, I feel like we can conquer anything. But we’ve really got to work on this! We can’t be afraid to deal with our baggage because we don’t want to lose each other.”
He growled softly. “I just want us to spend time together not dealing with all this other shit!”
“I know.” I rubbed at the pain in my chest. “But we have to earn it, I think. We can’t manufacture it by running away for a weekend or a week.”
“How do we earn it?”
I swiped at the tears drying on my cheeks. “Tonight was good. You calling me, telling me about your dream. It’s a good step, Gideon.”
“We’ll keep making steps, then. We have to keep moving together or we’re going to end up moving apart. Don’t let that happen! I’m fighting here, with everything I’ve got. Fight for me, too.”
My eyes stung with fresh tears. I sat for a while, crying, knowing he could hear me and that it was hurting him.
Finally, I swallowed the pain down and made a snap decision. “I’m going to that all-night café on Broadway and Eighty-fifth for coffee and a croissant.”
He was silent for a long minute. “What? Now?”
“Right now.” I tossed back the covers on the bed and slid to the floor.
Then he got it. “Okay.”
Killing the call, I dropped the phone on the bed and fumbled for the light. I ran to my duffel bag, digging out the butter yellow maxi dress I’d shoved in there because it was easy to pack and comfortable to wear.
Now that I was decided on seeing Gideon, I was anxious to get to him, but I had my vanity, too. I took the time to brush out my hair and put a little makeup on. I didn’t want him to see me after four days and wonder why he was so gone over me.
My phone buzzed a notification of a text and I hurried over to it, seeing a note from Raúl: I’m out front with the car.
A little zing went through me. Gideon was anxious to see me, too. Still, he never missed a trick.
I shoved my phone into my purse, my feet into sandals, and hurried out to the elevator.
—
GIDEON was waiting on the street when Raúl pulled up to the curb. Many of the storefronts on Broadway were shuttered and dark, although the street itself remained well lit. My husband stood within the light cast by the café’s awning, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark jeans and a Yankees ball cap tugged low over his brow.
He could’ve been any young man out late at night. Clearly attractive by the way his hard body filled his clothes and the confidence in the way he carried himself. I would’ve given him a second and third look. He wasn’t as intimidating outside the three-piece suits he wore so well, but he was still dark and dangerous enough to hold me back from the lighthearted flirting most devastatingly handsome men inspired.
In jeans or Fioravanti, Gideon Cross was not a man to be taken lightly.
He was at the car almost before Raúl pulled to a complete stop, yanking the door open and then freezing in place, staring at me with such scorching hunger and possessiveness that I found it hard to breathe.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat, my equally ravenous gaze sliding all over him. He was unbelievably more beautiful, the expertly sculpted planes of his face honed further by his torment. How had I lived the past few days without seeing that face?
He held his hand out to me and I reached for it, my own trembling in anticipation of his touch. The brush of his skin against mine sent tingles of awareness racing through me, my bruised heart surging with life at being in contact with him again.
He helped me out, then pushed the door closed, rapping twice on the roof to send Raúl away. As the Benz left us, we stood barely a foot apart, the air crackling with tension between us. A taxi raced by, honking its horn as another car turned onto Broadway without looking. The harsh sound jolted Gideon and me both.
He took a step toward me, his eyes dark and hot beneath the brim of his hat. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said roughly.
Then he cupped my jaw and tilted his head, fitting his mouth over mine. His lips, so soft and firm and dry, pressed mine open. His tongue slid deep and rubbed, withdrew, slid deep again. He groaned as if he were in the greatest pain. Or pleasure. For me, it was both. The hot stroke of his tongue into my mouth was like a sweet, slow fucking. Smoothly rhythmic, skilled, with just the perfect tease of leashed passion.
I moaned as euphoria sparkled through me like champagne, the ground shifting beneath my feet so that I clung to him for balance, my hands wrapping around his wrists.
I whimpered in protest when he pulled away, my lips feeling achy and swollen, my sex wet with desire.
“You’ll make me come,” he murmured, unable to resist brushing his lips over mine one last time. “I’m right there.”
“I don’t care.”
His mouth curved and chased the shadows away. “The next time I come will be inside you.”
I sucked in a shaky breath at the thought. I wanted that, and yet I knew it would be too soon now. That we’d fall too easily back into the unhealthy pattern we had established. “Gideon . . .”
His smile turned rueful. “Guess we’ll settle for coffee and a croissant for now.”
I loved him so much in that moment. Impulsively, I pulled off his hat and gave him a great big smacking kiss on the mouth.
“God,” he breathed, his gaze so tender it made me feel like crying again. “I’ve missed you so damn much.”
I slid the hat back on his head and grabbed his hand, leading him around the little metal fences cordoning off an outside seating area from the pedestrian traffic. We entered the café and settled at a table by the window, Gideon on one side and me on the other. But we didn’t stop holding hands, our fingers stroking and rubbing, each of us touching the other’s wedding bands.
We ordered when the server walked over with the menus, then turned our attention back to each other.
“I’m not even hungry,” I told him.
“Not for food, anyway,” he rejoined.
I shot him a mock glare that made him smile. Then I told him about the retention offer Waters Field & Leaman had made Mark.
It seemed wrong to talk about something so practical, so mundane, when my heart was giddy with love and relief, but we had to keep talking. Reconnecting wasn’t enough; I wanted a full and total reconciliation. I wanted to move into the renovated penthouse with him, start our life together. To do that, we had to keep communicating about the things we’d spent our relationship avoiding.
Gideon nodded grimly when I finished. “I’m not surprised. An account like that should be handled by one of the partners. Mark’s good, but he’s a junior manager. LanCorp would’ve had to push to get him. And you. The request is unusual enough to give the partners cause for concern.”
I thought about Kingsman Vodka. “You did the same thing.”
“I did, yes.”
“I don’t know what he’s going to do.” I looked at our joined hands. “But I told him I couldn’t work on the PhazeOne campaign even if he stayed to manage it.”
Gideon’s grip tightened on mine.
“You have good reasons for doing the things you do,” I said quietly, “even if I don’t like them.”
He took a slow, deep breath. “Will you come with him to Cross Industries if he moves?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m feeling pretty resentful right now. Unless that changes, it wouldn’t be a healthy working relationship for either of us.”
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
The server came back with our order. Gideon and I released each other by necessity to give her room to put the plates on our settings. When she walked away, a heavy silence descended between us. There was so much to say, but so much that had to be figured out first.
He cleared his throat. “Tonight—after Dr. Petersen—could I take you out to dinner?”
“Yes.” I accepted eagerly, grateful to move past the awkwardness into action. “I’d like that.”
I could see similar relief soften the hard line of his shoulders and wanted to do my share to build it. “Will asked if we’d be up for grabbing a drink with him and Natalie this week.”
A hint of a smile touched Gideon’s mouth. “I think that’d be great.”
Small steps. We would start with those and see where they took us.
I pushed back from the table and stood. Gideon pushed to his feet quickly, eyeing me warily. I rounded the table and took the seat next to him, waiting until he sat again so that I could lean into him.
His arm came around me and he settled me into the crook of his neck. A soft sound escaped him when I snuggled in.
“I’m still mad at you,” I told him.
“I know.”
“And I’m still in love with you.”
“Thank God.” His cheek rested against the top of my head. “We’ll figure out the rest. We’ll get back on track.”
We sat together and watched the city rouse from sleep. The sky lightened. The pace of life quickened.
It was a new day, bringing with it a new chance to try again.
