“I do like it,” my mother said, turning to take it all in.
Of course she liked it; she’d decorated it. I liked it, too, but didn’t really have a use for it. I’d thought about turning it into an adjoining bedroom for Gideon, but everything could be changing now. He’d pulled away from me, hidden Nathan and a dinner with Corinne from me. I wanted an explanation, and depending on what that was, we were going to either recommit to moving forward or take the painful steps to move away from each other.
My mom settled gracefully on the chaise, her gaze coming to rest on me. “You’ll have to be very careful with the police, Eva. If they want to talk to you again, let Richard know so he can have his lawyers present.”
“Why? I don’t understand why I should worry about what I say or don’t say. I haven’t done anything wrong. I didn’t even know he was in town.” I watched her gaze skitter away from mine, and my tone firmed. “What’s going on, Mom?”
She took a drink before speaking. “Nathan showed up in Richard’s office last week. He wanted two and a half million dollars.”
There was a sudden roaring in my ears. “What?”
“He wanted money,” she said stiffly. “A lot of it.”
“Why the hell would he think he’d get any?”
“He has—had—photos, Eva.” Her lower lip began to quiver. “And video. Of you.”
“Oh my God.” I set my coffee aside with shaking hands and bent over, putting my head between my knees. “Oh God, I’m going to be sick.”
And Gideon had seen Nathan—he’d confessed as much when he answered the detectives’ questions. If he’d seen the pictures . . . been disgusted by them . . . it would explain why he cut me off. Why he’d been so tormented when he came to my bed. He might still want me, but he might not be able to live with the images now filling his head.
It has to be this way, he’d said.
A horrible sound escaped me. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Nathan might have captured. I didn’t want to.
No wonder Gideon couldn’t stand to look at me. When he’d made love to me the last time, it had been in utter darkness, where he could hear me and smell me and feel me—but not see me.
I stifled a scream of pain by biting my forearm.
“Baby, no!” My mother sank to her knees in front of me, urging me gently off the chair and onto the floor where she could rock me. “Shh. It’s over. He’s dead.”
I curled into her lap, sobbing, realizing it truly was over—I’d lost Gideon. He would hate himself for turning away from me, but I understood why he might not be able to stop himself. If looking at me now reminded him of his own brutal past, how could he stand it? How could I?
My mother’s hand stroked over my hair. I felt her crying, too. “Shh,” she hushed me, her voice shaking. “Shh, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”
Eventually there were no more tears left to cry. I was empty, but with that emptiness came new clarity. I couldn’t change what had happened, but I could do what was necessary to make sure that no one I loved suffered for it.
I sat up and wiped at my eyes.
“You shouldn’t do that,” my mother scolded. “Rubbing at your eyes like that will give you wrinkles.”
For some reason, I found her concern for my future crow’s-feet hysterical. I tried to hold it in, but a snorted laugh broke free.
“Eva Lauren!”
I thought her indignation was funny, too. I laughed some more, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. I laughed until my sides hurt and I fell over.
“Oh, stop it!” She shoved at my shoulder. “It’s not funny.”
I laughed until I managed to squeeze out a few more tears.
“Eva, really!” But she was starting to smile.