She managed a wan smile. “Better.”
“Does Lacey know what happened?” I wasn’t sure how close Megumi was to her roommate, but I hadn’t forgotten that Lacey had dated Michael first.
“Not all of it.” Megumi pushed at her salad with a plastic fork. “I feel so stupid.”
“We’re always quick to blame ourselves, but no means no. It’s not your fault.”
“I know that, but still …”
I knew just how she felt. “Have you thought about talking to someone?”
She glanced at me, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Like a counselor or something?”
“Yes.”
“Not really. How do you even start looking for someone like that?”
“We’ve got mental health benefits. Call the number on the back of your insurance card. They’ll give you a list of providers to choose from.”
“And I just … pick one?”
“I’ll help you.” And if I got my act together, I’d find a way to help more women like her and me. Something good had to come of our experiences. I had the motivation and the means. I just had to find the way.
Her eyes glistened. “You’re a good friend, Eva. Thanks for being here.”
I leaned over and hugged her.
“He hasn’t texted me lately,” she said when I pulled back. “I keep dreading that he’s going to, but every hour that goes by that he doesn’t, I feel better.”
Settling back in my seat, I sent a silent thank-you to Clancy. “Good.”
AT five o’clock, I left work and took the elevator up to Cross Industries, hoping to catch some time with Gideon before our appointment with Dr. Petersen.
I’d been thinking about him all day, about the future I wanted us to have together. I wanted him to respect my individuality and my personal boundaries, but I also wanted him to open up some of his own. I wanted more moments like this morning with Cary, when Gideon and I stood together, facing a situation as one. I couldn’t really push for that if I wasn’t willing to make the same effort.
The redheaded receptionist at Cross Industries buzzed me in. She greeted me with a hard smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Can I help you?”
“No, I’m good, thanks,” I replied, breezing past her. It would be nice if all of Gideon’s employees could be as easy-natured as Scott, but the receptionist had an issue with me and I’d just come to accept it.
I headed back to Gideon’s office and found Scott’s desk empty. Through the glass, I saw my husband at work, presiding over a meeting with casual authority. He stood in front of his desk, leaning back against it with one ankle crossed over the other. He wore his jacket and faced an audience composed of two suit-clad gentlemen and one woman wearing a great pair of Louboutins. Scott sat off to the side, taking notes on a tablet.
Settling into one of the chairs by Scott’s desk, I watched Gideon as raptly as the others in the room with him. It never ceased to amaze me how self-assured he was for a man who was only twenty-eight. The men he was meeting with looked to be twice his age, and yet their body language and focused attention told me they respected my husband and what he was saying.
Yes, money talked—loudly—and Gideon had tons of it. But he conveyed command and control with subtle actions. I recognized that after living with Nathan’s father, my mom’s first husband, who’d wielded power like a blunt instrument.
Gideon knew how to own a room without thumping his chest. I doubted the setting made any difference; he would be a formidable presence in anyone’s office.
His head turned and his gaze met mine. There was no surprise in those brilliantly blue eyes of his. He’d known I was there, had sensed me just as I often sensed his approach without looking. We were connected somehow, on a level I couldn’t explain. There were times when he wasn’t with me and I just wished he was, but I still felt him nearby.