“Things moving along?” He straightened to open the door for me. As long as I’d known him, he’d kept his dark blond hair in a military crew cut. It added to the impression of his being a very somber man.
“Working on it.” Sliding into the backseat, I told Clancy to drop me off at Gideon’s. I had my own key and I was prepared to use it.
On the drive over, I wondered if Gideon had gone to see Dr. Petersen for his appointment or if he’d blown it off. He’d agreed to individual therapy only because of me. If I wasn’t part of the equation anymore, he might not see any reason to make the effort.
I entered the understated and elegant lobby of Gideon’s apartment building and checked in with the front desk. It wasn’t until I was alone in his private elevator that the nerves really hit me. He’d placed me on his approved list weeks before, a gesture that meant so much more to him and me than it would to others because Gideon’s home was his sanctuary, a place he allowed few visitors to see. I was the only lover he’d ever entertained there and the only person, aside from his household staff, who had a key. Yesterday I wouldn’t have doubted my welcome, but now . . .
I exited into a small foyer decorated with checkerboard marble tiles and an antique console bearing a massive arrangement of white calla lilies. Before I unlocked his front door, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for however I might find him. The one previous time he’d attacked me in his sleep, it had shattered him. I couldn’t help but fear what the second time had done to him. I was terrified that his parasomnia might be the wedge that drove us apart.
But the moment I entered his apartment, I knew he wasn’t home. The energy that thrummed through a space when he occupied it was markedly absent.
Lights that were activated by my movements came on when I entered the expansive living room, and I forced myself to settle in as if I belonged there. My room was down the hall and I went to it, pausing on the threshold to absorb the weirdness of seeing my bedroom replicated in Gideon’s place. The duplication was uncanny, from the color on the walls to the furniture and fabrics, but its existence was more than a little unnerving.
Gideon had created it as my safe room, a place for me to run to when I needed some space. I supposed I was running to it now, in a way, by using it instead of his.
Setting my workout bag and purse on the bed, I showered and changed into one of the Cross Industries T-shirts Gideon had set aside for me. I tried not to think about why he still wasn’t home. I’d just poured a glass of wine and turned on the living room television when my smartphone rang.
“Hello?” I answered, unfamiliar with the number on the nameless Caller ID.
“Eva? It’s Shawna.”
“Oh, hey, Shawna.” I tried not to sound disappointed.
“I hope it’s not too late to call.”
I looked at the screen of my phone, noting that it was almost nine o’clock. Jealousy mingled with my concern. Where was he? “No worries. I’m just watching TV.”
“Sorry I missed your call last night. I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to see if you’d be up for going to a Six-Ninths concert on Friday.”
“A what concert?”
“Six-Ninths. You haven’t heard of ’em? They were indie until late last year. I’ve been following them for a while and they gave their e-mail list first dibs, so I scored tickets. Thing is, everyone I know likes hip-hop and dance pop. Not to say you’re my last hope, but . . . well, you’re my last hope. Tell me you like alt rock.”
“I like alt rock.” My phone beeped. Incoming call. When I saw it was Cary, I let it go to voice mail. I didn’t think I’d be on the phone with Shawna too long and I could call him back.
“How did I know that?” She laughed. “I’ve got four tickets if you’ve got someone you’d like to bring along. Meet up at six? Grab something to eat first? The show starts at nine.”