Reflected in You (Crossfire 02)

I looked at him. “Could you do me a favor and finish making the coffee? I have a call to make.”


“Sure. Then I’m going to grab a shower.” He reached over and set his hand on top of mine. “Let’s go out and erase this whole morning. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

I grabbed the phone off its base and went back to my bedroom. I hit the speed dial for Gideon’s cell and waited for him to pick up. Three rings later, he did.

“Cross,” he said, although his screen would’ve told him it was me. “I really can’t talk right now.”

“Then just listen. I’ll time myself. One minute. One goddamn minute of your time. Can you give me that?”

“I really—”

“Did Nathan come to you with photos of me?”

“This isn’t—”

“Did he?” I snapped.

“Yes,” he bit out.

“Did you look at them?”

There was a long pause, then, “Yes.”

I exhaled. “Okay. I think you’re a total asshole for letting me go to Dr. Petersen’s office when you knew you weren’t coming because you were going out with another woman instead. That’s just serious douchebag territory, Gideon. And worse, it was a Kingsman event, too, which should’ve had some sentimental value to you, considering that’s how—”

There was the abrupt scraping noise of a chair being shoved back. I rushed on, desperate to say what needed to be said before he hung up.

“I think you’re a coward for not coming right out and saying we’re over, especially before you started fucking around with someone else.”

“Eva. Goddamn it.”

“But I want you to know that even though the way you’ve handled this is fucking wrong and you’ve broken my heart into millions of tiny pieces and I’ve lost all respect for you, I don’t blame you for how you feel after seeing those pictures of me. I get it.”

“Stop.” His voice was little more than a whisper, making me wonder if Corinne was with him even now.

“I don’t want you to blame yourself, okay? After what you and I have been through—not that I know what you’ve been through because you never told me—but anyway . . .” I sighed and winced at how shaky it came out. Worse, when I opened my mouth again, my words were watery with tears. “Don’t blame yourself. I don’t. I just want you to know that.”

“Christ,” he breathed. “Please stop, Eva.”

“I’m done. I hope you find—” My hand clenched in my lap. “Never mind. Good-bye.”

I hung up and dropped the phone on my bed. I stripped off my clothes on the way to the shower and set the ring Gideon had given me on the counter. I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it and sank numbly to the floor of the stall.

I had nothing left.





Chapter 17


For the rest of Saturday and Sunday, my dad and I bounced all over the city. I made sure he did the food thing, taking him to Junior’s for cheesecake, Gray’s Papaya for hot dogs, and John’s for pizza, which we took back to the apartment to share with Cary. We went up to the top of the Empire State Building, which also satisfied the Statue of Liberty requirement as far as my dad was concerned. We enjoyed a matinee show on Broadway. We walked to Times Square, which was hot and crowded and smelled awful but had some interesting—and a few half-naked—street performers. I snapped pictures with my phone and sent them to Cary for a laugh.

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