“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.
Acknowledgments
There are innumerable people behind me who make it possible for me to write, keep up with my commitments, and stay sane.
Thanks to Hilary Sares, who keeps me on track by editing each book as I go. I rely on you more than you know.