Bella returned her attention to Gideon.
“You’re dealing with so much. You might want to talk to Ethan Hendrix. Do you know him?”
“He owns the turbine company outside town.” He looked at Felicia. “Wind turbines. They’re used for electricity.”
“I’m aware of that,” she began, only to realize saying that was his way of creating a distraction. “Um, yes. Windmills. What do you know about them?”
Bella shot her a look that clearly stated she thought Felicia was the village idiot. “As I was saying, Ethan went through a little of what you’re dealing with now. It’s a complicated story, but by the time he found out he had a son, Tyler was eleven or twelve. It nearly broke his heart.”
“That he had a son?” Felicia asked.
“No, dear. All that he missed.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re working through that, too. Those early years. Him being born, the first step, first word.” Her eyes filled with tears. “That first day of school. All gone. And you can’t get them back.”
Gideon looked as if he was going to bolt.
“Carter’s mother seems to have done an excellent job with her son,” Felicia said.
“A boy needs his father,” Bella said, glaring at her, before turning back to Gideon. “I’m just saying, Ethan has been there and he can help you through the adjustment period.”
She smiled once more, then left.
Felicia picked up her wineglass, then put it down. “I have a strong urge to apologize, but I’m not sure for what.”
“I missed stuff,” he said, sounding dazed. “Years when Carter was younger.”
Thirteen years, she thought, but decided that information wasn’t helpful to the discussion at hand.
“Does that give you a sense of loss? Are you angry with Ellie?”
“No.” He stared at her. “I never thought about it before. About him being younger and growing up. I don’t need to know about that. I don’t want to know.”
“Somehow thinking Carter appeared fully formed made him less scary?”
He swore under his breath. “I thought you were supposed to be socially awkward.”
“I’m less so now,” she said proudly. “But you’re avoiding the question.”
“I don’t have an answer for you. Maybe that’s part of it. He’s not so bad. We’re starting to figure out what to talk about.” He glanced around. “Damn this town. Why can’t they leave me alone?”
Bella’s words might have triggered his feelings, but Felicia suspected Gideon had been fighting the walls closing in for a while. He was a man who sought out solitude. He lived away from other people. He meditated, practiced Tai Chi and ran miles at a time. All alone. He specifically worked at night when most of the world was asleep. He didn’t seek involvement, yet it had been thrust upon him.
“We can go,” she told him. “We don’t have to stay and eat dinner.”
“This is your date night.”
Your, she thought sadly. Not our.
“Another time,” she said, waving to their server. “Let’s just go home. You can drop me off, then head into the station. Get set up for your show.”
She wanted him to say no. She wanted him to say that being with her was relaxing. That while he was interested in getting out of the restaurant, being with her wasn’t like being with other people.
“Thanks,” he said, pulling a credit card out of his wallet. “I promise to come to a full stop at the house and not ask you to jump out while the car’s still moving.”
“I could do a tuck and roll.”
“Not in those shoes.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Thanks.”
She nodded because she was afraid if she spoke, she would betray her disappointment. As they left the restaurant and she faced a long evening of missing Gideon and wishing they were together, she realized that caring for someone came at a price. To open one’s heart meant letting in all emotions, not just the good ones.
* * *
“IF YOU DON’T focus, I’m going to hit you,” Consuelo said, glaring at Ford.
“Sorry.”
He gripped the punching bag more securely. Just as she shifted into position, he stepped back.
“It’s my mother,” he admitted.
“Do I look as if I care?”
“You heard about the booth?”
“Everyone heard about the booth, and we’re all laughing at you. Now, can we get back to the workout?”
They were supposed to be sparring together. When he’d been too distracted for a decent round or two, she’d suggested they move to the punching bags.
“Consuelo, you don’t understand. She’s taken applications from different women and sorted through them by likable attributes. She’s been emailing me the information and then following up to see if I’ve called them yet.”
Ford was about thirty-three, over six feet tall and all muscle. Although she would never admit it to anyone, she was pretty sure he could take her. So it was unexpected, to say the least, to watch him practically tremble at the thought of his mother sending women his way.
“Tell her no,” she said.
Two of a Kind (Fool's Gold #11)
Susan Mallery's books
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- Just One Kiss
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