I hardly slept all night. I tossed and turned, drifting in and out of consciousness. The frequent nurse visits to check on Cary also woke me. His brain scans and lab reports were looking good and there was nothing absolutely definitive to worry about, but I hadn’t been there for him when he’d first gotten hurt. I felt like I needed to be there for him now, sleep or no sleep.
Just before six, I gave up and got out of bed.
Grabbing my tablet and wireless keyboard, I headed down to the cafeteria for coffee. I pulled up a chair at one of the tables and prepared to write a letter to Gideon. In the short amounts of time I’d managed to pin him down the last couple of days, I hadn’t been able to get my thoughts across to him. Writing it all out would have to be the way it got done. Maintaining steady, open communication was the only way we were going to survive as a couple.
I sipped my coffee and began typing, starting with my thanks for the beautiful weekend away and how much it meant to me. I told him how I thought our relationship had taken a massive leap forward during the trip, which only made the week’s backslide harder to bear—
“Eva. What a pleasant surprise!”
Turning my head, I found Dr. Terrence Lucas standing behind me holding a disposable coffee cup like the one I’d filled for myself. He was dressed for work in slacks and tie with a white lab coat. “Hi,” I greeted him, hoping I hid my wariness.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, rounding me.
“Not at all.”
I watched him take the seat beside me, and I refreshed my memory of his appearance. His hair was pure white, without a hint of gray, but his handsome face was unlined. His eyes were an unusual shade of green and they were keen with intelligence. His smile was both reassuring and charming. I suspected he was popular with his patients—and their mothers.
“There has to be some special reason,” he began, “for you to be in the hospital long before visiting hours.”
“My roommate’s here.” I didn’t volunteer any more information, but he guessed.
“So Gideon Cross threw his money around and made arrangements for you.” He shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. “And you’re grateful. But what will it cost you?”
I sat back, offended on Gideon’s behalf that his generosity was reduced to having an ulterior motive. “Why do you two dislike each other so much?”
His eyes lost their softness. “He hurt someone very close to me.”
“Your wife. He told me.” I could tell that startled him. “But that wasn’t the beginning, was it? That was a result.”
“You know what he did, and you’re still with him?” Lucas set his elbows on the table. “He’s doing the same thing to you. You look exhausted and depressed. That’s part of the game to him, you know. He’s an expert at worshipping a woman as if he needs her to breathe. Then suddenly he can’t bear the sight of her.”
The statement was a painfully accurate description of my present reality with Gideon. My pulse quickened.
His gaze slid to my throat, then back to my face. His mouth curved in a mocking, knowing smile. “You’ve experienced what I’m talking about. He’s going to continue to play with you until you rely on his mood to gauge your own. Then he’ll get bored and dump you.”
“What happened between you?” I asked again, knowing that was key.
“Gideon Cross is a narcissistic sociopath,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I believe he’s a misogynist. He uses his money to seduce women, then despises them for being shallow enough to find his wealth attractive. He uses sex to control, and you never know what sort of mood you’ll find him in. That’s part of the rush—when you’re always steeling yourself for the worst, you psych yourself up for a surge of relief when he’s at his best.”