His fingers sifted through my hair. “Of what?”
“Things are already fucked up between my mom and me. If my parents have a falling-out, I don’t want to get stuck in the middle. I know they wouldn’t handle it well—especially my mom. They’re crazy in love with each other.”
“I hadn’t realized that.”
“You didn’t see them together. Major sizzle,” I explained, remembering that Gideon and I had been separated when I learned the sexual chemistry between my parents was still white-hot. “And my dad confessed to still being in love with her. Makes me sad to think about it.”
“Because they’re not together?”
“Yes, but not because I want one big happy family,” I qualified. “I just hate the thought of going through life without the person you’re in love with. When I lost you—”
“You’ve never lost me.”
“It was like part of me died. Going through a whole lifetime like that …”
“Would be hell.” Gideon ran his fingertips across my cheek and I saw the bleakness in his eyes, the lingering specter of Nathan haunting him. “Let me handle Monica.”
I blinked at him. “How?”
His lips curled on one side. “I’ll call her and ask how you’re dealing with everything and how you’re doing. Start the process of publicly working my way back to you.”
“She knows I told you everything. She might break down on you.”
“Better me than you.”
That was almost enough to make me smile. “Thank you.”
“I’ll distract her and get her thinking about something else.” He reached for my hand and touched my ring.
Wedding bells. He didn’t say it, but I got the message. And of course that was what my mother would think. A man in Gideon’s position didn’t come back to a woman through her mother—especially one like Monica Stanton—unless his “intentions” were serious.
That was an issue we’d tackle another day.
FOR the next hour, Gideon pretended like he wasn’t hovering. He stayed close, following me from room to room on some pretext or another. When my stomach growled, he tugged me immediately into the kitchen, pulling together a plate of sandwiches, potato chips, and prepared macaroni salad.
We ate at the island, and I let the comfort of his attentiveness soothe my nerves. As rough as things were, he was there for me to lean on. It made a lot of the troubles we were facing seem surmountable.
What couldn’t we accomplish, as long as we stayed together?
“What did Corinne want?” I asked. “Besides you.”
His features hardened. “I don’t want to talk about Corinne.”
There was an edge to his voice that niggled at me. “Is everything all right?”
“What did I just say?”
“Something lame that I’m choosing to ignore.”
He made an exasperated noise, but relented. “She’s upset.”
“Screaming upset? Or crying upset?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. There’s a difference between being mad at a guy and being a teary mess over him. For example: Deanna is mad and can plot your destruction; I was a teary mess and could barely crawl out of bed every day.”
“God. Eva.” He reached over and set his hand over mine. “I’m sorry.”
“Cut it out with the apologies, already! You’ll make it up to me having to deal with my mother. So is Corinne mad or teary?”
“She was crying.” Gideon winced. “Christ. She lost it.”
“I’m sorry you’re dealing with that. Don’t let her guilt-trip you, though.”
“I used her,” he said quietly, “to protect you.”
I set my sandwich down and narrowed my gaze at him. “Did you or did you not tell her that all you could offer was friendship?”