“Good-bye,” she breathed.
I watched her walk unsteadily to the elevator and push the button, her back to us. My dad didn’t look away until the car doors closed behind her.
He exhaled in a rush and came into my apartment.
I shut the door. “How is it that I didn’t know you two are crazy in love with each other?”
The look in his eyes was painful to witness. The raw agony was like an open wound. “Because it doesn’t mean anything.”
“I don’t believe that. Love means everything.”
“It doesn’t conquer all like they say.” He snorted. “Can you see your mother being a cop’s wife?”
I winced.
“Right,” he said dryly, wiping his forehead with his shirt. “Sometimes love isn’t enough. And if it’s not enough, what good is it?”
The bitterness I heard in his words was something I knew very well myself. I passed him and went into the kitchen.
My dad followed me. “Are you in love with Gideon Cross?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Is he in love with you?”
Because I just didn’t have the energy, I dumped my mug in the sink and pulled out new ones for me and my dad. “I don’t know. I know he wants me, and sometimes he needs me. I think he’d do anything he could for me if I asked, because I’ve gotten under his skin a bit.”
But he couldn’t tell me that he loved me. He wouldn’t tell me about his past. And he couldn’t, apparently, live with the evidence of my past.
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”
I pulled coffee beans out of the freezer to make a fresh pot. “That’s seriously debatable, Dad.”
“You’re honest with yourself. That’s a good trait to have.” He gave me a tight smile when I looked over my shoulder at him. “I used your tablet earlier to check my e-mail. It was on the coffee table. I hope you don’t mind.”
I shook my head. “Help yourself.”
“I surfed the Internet while I was on there. Wanted to see what popped up about Cross.”
My heart sank a little. “You don’t like him.”
“I’m withholding judgment.” My dad’s voice faded as he moved into the living room, then strengthened again as he returned with my tablet in hand.
As I ground the beans, he flipped open the tablet’s protective case and started tapping at the screen.
“I had a hard time getting a bead on him last night. I just wanted a little more information. I found some pictures of the two of you together that looked promising.” He gaze was on the screen. “Then I found something else.”
He turned the tablet around to face me. “Can you explain this to me? Is this another sister of his?”
Leaving the ground coffee to sit, I moved closer, my eyes on the article my dad had found on Page Six. The picture was of Gideon and Corinne at some sort of cocktail party. He had his arm around her waist, and their body language was familiar and intimate. He was very close to her, his lips nearly touching her temple. She had a drink in her hand and was laughing.
I picked up the tablet and read the caption: Gideon Cross, CEO of Cross Industries, and Corinne Giroux at the Kingsman Vodka publicity mixer.
My fingers shook as I scrolled to the top of the page and read the brief article, searching for more information. I went numb when I saw the mixer had been Thursday, from six to nine, at one of Gideon’s properties—one I knew all too well. He’d fucked me there, just as he’d fucked dozens of women there.
Gideon had stood me up for our appointment with Dr. Petersen to take Corinne to his fuck-pad hotel.
That was what he’d wanted to tell the detectives that he didn’t want me to hear: His alibi was an evening—maybe the whole night—spent with another woman.
Setting the tablet down with more care than necessary, I released the breath I’d been holding. “That’s not his sister.”
“I didn’t think so.”