“WHAT’S GOT YOU frowning, baby girl?” Cary asked, his voice low and sleepy from the Dramamine he’d downed at takeoff.
Staring at the choices in the dropdown menu my cursor hovered over, I debated which to pick. Engaged or It’s complicated? Since Married also applied, I thought All of the above should’ve been an option.
Wouldn’t that be fun to explain?
Glancing across the luxurious cabin of Gideon’s private jet, I found my best friend sprawled along the white leather sofa with his hands tucked behind his head. Long and lean, he was a pretty picture with his shirt riding high and his cargo pants riding low, exposing the amazing abs that were helping Grey Isles to sell jeans, underwear, and other men’s clothing.
Cary had no problem whatsoever accustoming himself to the luxurious conveniences of Gideon’s immense wealth. He’d settled immediately and comfortably into the elegant appointments of the ultra-modern cabin. And somehow, even casually dressed, he looked perfectly at home amid the brushed steel and gray oak.
“I’m trying to set up some social media accounts,” I answered.
“Whoa.” He sat up with effortless grace, his posture surprisingly and instantly alert. “Big step.”
“Yeah.” Nathan had kept me hiding, afraid to put myself out there and risk making it easy for him to find me. “But it’s time. I feel like … Never mind. It’s just time.”
“All right.” He set his elbows on his knees and tapped his fingertips together. “Then why is your face all scrunched up like that?”
“Well, there’s a lot to consider. I mean, how much do I share out there? I don’t have to worry about Nathan anymore, but Gideon is under constant scrutiny.”
With my thoughts on Gideon, I ran a search for his profile. It popped up with the little blue check mark that told me it was verified as belonging to him. The sight of his picture, a shot of him in a black three-piece suit and the blue tie I loved, sent a pang of longing through me. He’d been photographed on a rooftop with the skyline of Manhattan fuzzily out of focus behind him, while he was sharply and vividly captured by the camera’s lens.
He was even sharper and more vibrant in reality. I stared into Gideon’s eyes, getting lost in that impossible blue. His black hair framed that perfect fallen-angel face in strands of glossy, inky silk.
Poetic? Yes. But then his looks could inspire sonnets. To say nothing of spur-of-the-moment marriage.
When had the photo been taken? Before we’d met? He had the implacable, remote look that made him seem like such an impossible dream.
“I’m married,” I blurted out, tearing my gaze away from the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. “To Gideon, of course. Who else would I be married to?”
Cary froze while I rambled. “Come again?”
I rubbed my palms on my yoga pants. It was a cop-out telling him the news while motion sickness drugs lulled his brain, but I’d take any advantage I could get. “When we went away last weekend. We eloped.”
He was quiet for a long, weighted minute. Then he exploded to his feet. “Are you shitting me?”
Raúl’s head turned in our direction. The movement was casual and unhurried, but his gaze was vigilant and watchful. He sat in the far corner, being eerily unobtrusive for such a hard-to-miss guy.
“What’s the damned rush?” Cary snapped.
“It just … happened.” I couldn’t explain it. I’d thought it was too soon. Still did. But Gideon was the only man I would ever love so completely. When I considered that, I knew Gideon had been right; we’d only be postponing the inevitable. And Gideon needed my promise that I was his forever. My amazing husband who found it so hard to believe he could be loved. “I’m not sorry.”
“Not yet.” Cary shoved both hands into his hair. “Jesus, Eva. You don’t up and marry the first guy you have a serious relationship with.”
“It’s not like that,” I protested, awkwardly avoiding looking at Raúl. “You know how we feel about each other.”
“Sure. You two are whack jobs separately. Together, you’re a goddamn nut house.”
I flipped him the bird. “We’ll work on it. Wearing a ring doesn’t mean we stop figuring things out.”
He dropped into the chair across from me. “What incentive has he got to fix anything? He’s bagged and tagged the prize. You’re stuck with his psychotic dreams and Grand Canyon–sized mood swings.”
“Wait a minute,” I said tightly, feeling the sting of truth in his words. “You didn’t get upset when I told you we were engaged.”
“Because I figured it’d be a year, at the very least, before Monica got the wedding worked out. Maybe a year and a half. At least some time for you two to try living together.”
I let him rant. Better that he did it at thirty thousand feet than in some public venue where the whole world could hear.
He leaned closer, his green eyes fierce. “I’m having a baby and I’m not getting married. You know why? Because I’m too fucked up and I know it. I’ve got no business hitching a passenger on this wild ride. If he loved you, he’d be thinking about you and what’s best for you.”
“I’m so glad you’re happy for me, Cary. That means a lot.”
The words dripped with sarcasm, but they were honest in their own way. There were girlfriends I could call who would tell me what an amazingly lucky bitch I was. Cary was my closest friend because he always gave it to me straight, even when I desperately wanted sugarcoating.
But Cary was thinking only about the darkness. He didn’t understand the light Gideon brought into my life. The acceptance and the love. The safety. Gideon had given me my freedom back, a life without terror. Giving him vows in return was too simple a repayment for that.
I turned my attention back to Gideon’s profile, scrolling down to see that the most recent post was a link to an article about our engagement. I doubted he’d posted it himself; he was too busy to bother with something like that. But I figured he’d approved it. If not, he had somehow already made it clear that I was important enough to become the one bit of personal news that was okay to be shared on an otherwise business-focused profile.
Gideon was proud of me. Proud to be marrying me, a hot mess with a history of bad choices. Whatever anyone else thought, I knew I was the one who’d bagged and tagged the prize.
“Fuck.” Cary slouched into the chair. “Make me feel like an ass.”
“If the shoe fits …” I muttered, clicking on the link to view other photos of Gideon.
It was a mistake.
All the pictures posted by his social media admin were business-related, but the unofficial pictures he’d been tagged in weren’t. There, in living color, were images of him with beautiful women. And they hit me hard. Jealousy clawed and twisted my stomach.
God, he looked amazing in a tuxedo. Dark and dangerous. His face savagely beautiful, his cheekbones and mouth chiseled perfection, his posture confident and more than a little arrogant. An alpha male in his prime.
I knew the photos weren’t recent. I knew the women in them didn’t have firsthand knowledge of his insanely mad skills in bed; he had a rule about that. Neither of which stopped the images from making me twitchy.
“Am I the last to know?” Cary asked.
“You’re the only one.” I glanced at Raúl. “At least on my side. Gideon wants to tell the world, but we’re going to keep it under wraps.”
He studied me. “For how long?”
“Forever. The next wedding we have will be our first as far as anyone else is concerned.”
“You having second thoughts?”
It killed me that Cary didn’t care that we had an audience. I was hyperaware that every move I made, every word I said was being witnessed.
Not that Raúl’s presence had any effect on my answer. “No. I’m glad we’re married. I love him, Cary.”
I was glad Gideon was mine. And I missed him. Worse after seeing those pictures.
“I know you do,” Cary said with a sigh.
Unable to help myself, I opened the messaging app on my laptop and sent Gideon a text. I miss you.
He texted back almost instantly. Turn the plane around.
That made me smile. It was so like him. And so unlike me. Wasting the pilots’ time, the fuel … it seemed so frivolous to me. More than that, though, would be the proof of how dependent on Gideon I’d become. That would be the kiss of death in our relationship. He could have anything, any woman, at any time. If I ever became too easy for him, we’d both lose respect for me. Losing his love wouldn’t be far behind.
I returned to my new profile and uploaded a selfie I’d taken with Gideon that I synced from my smartphone. I made it the masthead image. Then I tagged him and gave it a description: The love of my life.
After all, if his photos were going to include him with women, I wanted at least one of them to be me. And the one I’d chosen was undeniably intimate. We lay on our backs, our temples touching, my face bare of makeup and his relaxed with a smile in his eyes. I dared anyone to look at it and not see that I had a private bond with him the world would never know.
I suddenly wanted to call him. So badly that I could almost hear that amazingly sexy voice, as intoxicating as top-shelf liquor, smooth with just a hint of bite. I wanted to be with him, my hand in his, my lips against his throat where the smell of his skin called to something hungry and primitive inside me.
It scared me sometimes, how much I needed him. To the exclusion of everything else. There was no one I wanted to be with more, including my best friend, who was at that moment needing me almost as fiercely.
“It’s all good, Cary,” I assured him. “Don’t worry.”
“I’d be more worried if I thought you actually believed that.” He shoved the bangs off his forehead with an impatient hand. “It’s too soon, Eva.”
I nodded. “But it’ll work out.”
It had to. I couldn’t imagine my life without Gideon in it.
Cary’s head dropped back and his eyes closed. I might have thought he was succumbing to the motion sickness pills, except his knuckles were white from gripping the armrests too tightly. He was taking the news hard. I didn’t know what I could say to reassure him.
You’re still heading in the wrong direction, Gideon texted.
I almost asked him how he knew that, but caught myself. Are you having a good time with the guys?
I’d have more fun with you.
I grinned. I would hope so. My fingers paused, then: I told Cary.
The answer wasn’t instantaneous. Still friends?
He hasn’t disowned me yet.
He didn’t say anything to that, and I told myself not to read too much into his silence. He was out with his guys. It had been asking a lot to even hear from him at all.
Still, I was super happy to get a text from him ten minutes later.
Don’t stop missing me.
I looked over at Cary and found him watching me. Was Gideon facing similar disapproval from his friends?
Don’t stop loving me, I texted back.
His answer was simple and very much Gideon. Deal.
“SoCAL, baby, I missed you.” Cary descended the steps from the plane to the tarmac, tilting his head back to look up at the night sky. “God, it’s good to leave that East Coast humidity behind.”
I scrambled down after him, eager to get to the tall, dark figure waiting by a shiny black Suburban. Victor Reyes was the kind of male who commanded attention. Part of that was due to his being a cop. The rest was all him.
“Dad!” I ran full bore toward him and he unfolded from where he’d been leaning against the SUV and opened his arms to me.
He absorbed the crash of my body into his and lifted me off my feet, squeezing me so tightly I couldn’t breathe. “It’s good to see you, baby,” he said gruffly.
Cary sauntered up to us. My dad put me down.
“Cary.” My dad clasped Cary’s hand, then pulled him in for a quick hug and a hearty slap on the back. “Looking good, kid.”
“Got everything?” my dad asked. He eyed Raúl, who’d exited the plane first and now stood silently near a black Benz that had been parked and waiting close by.
Gideon had told me to forget that Raúl was there. That wasn’t easy for me to do.
“Yep,” Cary answered, adjusting the weight of his duffel strap on his shoulder. He carried my bag, which was lighter than his, in his hand. Even with all my makeup and three pairs of shoes, Cary had packed more than me.
I loved that about him.
“You two hungry?” My dad opened the passenger door for me.
It was just past nine in California, but after midnight in New York. Too late for me to eat usually, but we hadn’t grabbed dinner.
Cary answered before climbing into the backseat. “Starved.”
I laughed. “You’re always hungry.”
“So are you, sweet cheeks,” he shot back, sliding into the center seat so he could lean forward and be in the mix. “I’ve just got no guilt about it.”
We pulled away from the jet and I watched it grow smaller as we cruised down the tarmac toward the exit. I glanced at my dad’s profile, looking for any hint of his thoughts about the lifestyle I’d be living as Gideon’s wife. The private jets. The full-time bodyguards. I knew how he felt about Stanton’s wealth, but that was my stepdad. I was hoping a husband would be cut some slack.
Still, I knew the change in routine was glaring. Previously, we would’ve flown into San Diego’s harbor. We would have headed to the Gaslamp and grabbed a table at Dick’s Last Resort, spending an hour or more laughing at the silliness and enjoying a beer with dinner.
There was tension now that hadn’t been there before. Nathan. Gideon. My mom. They were all hovering between us.
It sucked. Massively.
“What about that place in Oceanside with the slushy beer and peanut shells on the floor?” Cary suggested.
“Yeah.” I twisted in my seat to give him a grateful smile. “That’d be fun.”
Laid-back and familiar. Perfect.
I could tell my dad thought so, too, when I looked at him and his mouth quirked. “You got it.”
We left the airport behind. I dug out my phone and turned it on, wanting to sync it to the Suburban’s sound system so we could listen to music that would take us back to less complicated times.
Texts popped up so fast, they filled my screen then scrolled off.
The most recent one was from Brett. Call me when you get into town.
And right on cue, “Golden” started playing on the radio.
I was climbing the steps of my dad’s tiny porch the next day when my phone started vibrating. I pulled it out of my shorts pocket and felt a tingle of happiness at the sight of Gideon’s picture on the screen.
“Good morning,” I answered, settling into one of the two cushioned wrought-iron chairs near the front door. “Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough.” The beloved soft rasp of his voice slid sweetly through me. “Raúl says Victor’s coffee could wake a hibernating bear.”
I glanced at the Benz parked across the narrow street. The tinted windows were so dark I couldn’t see the man inside. It was a bit freaky that Raúl had somehow managed to talk to Gideon about the coffee I’d just barely taken over to him before I even made it back to the house. “Are you trying to intimidate me with how closely you’re watching me?”
“If intimidation were my goal, I wouldn’t be subtle about it.”
I picked up the mug I’d dropped off on the small patio table prior to making my java delivery to Raúl. “You do know that tone of voice makes me want to irritate you back, don’t you?”
“Because you like the way I rise to the challenge,” he purred, sending little goose bumps across my skin despite the warmth of the summer day.
My mouth curved. “So, what exactly did you guys end up doing last night?”
“The usual. Drink. Give each other a hard time.”
“Did you go out?”
“For a couple of hours.”
My grip tightened on the phone as I pictured a pack of hot guys out on the prowl. “I hope you had fun.”
“It wasn’t bad. Tell me your plans for the day.”
I picked up the same note of tightness in his words that I’d just had. Unfortunately, marriage wasn’t a cure for jealousy. “When Cary wakes up and rolls his ass off the couch, we’ll grab a quick lunch with my dad. Then we’re going down to San Diego to see Dr. Travis.”
“And tonight?”
I took a sip of my coffee, steeling myself for an argument. I knew he was thinking about Brett. “The band’s manager sent me an e-mail about where to claim VIP tickets, but I’ve decided not to see the show. I figure Cary can take a friend, if he wants. What I have to say won’t take very long, so either I’ll see Brett tomorrow before I leave or we can chat on the phone.”
He exhaled softly. “I expect you have an idea of what you’re going to tell him.”
“I’m gonna keep it simple. With ‘Golden’ and my engagement, I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to see each other socially. I hope we’ll be friends and keep in touch, but e-mail and texts are better, unless you’re with me.”
He was silent long enough that I thought maybe the call had dropped. “Gideon?”
“I need to know if you’re afraid to see him.”
Uneasy, I took another drink. The coffee had cooled, but I barely tasted it anyway. “I don’t want to fight about Brett.”
“So your solution is to avoid him.”
“You and I have enough shit to fight about without throwing him into the mix. He’s not worth it.”
Gideon was quiet again. This time, I waited him out.
When his voice came again, it was confident and decisive. “I can live with that, Eva.”
My shoulders relaxed and something inside me eased. And then, paradoxically, my chest tightened. I remembered what he’d said to me once, that he’d live with me loving another man just so long as he had me.
He loved me so much more than he loved himself. It broke my heart that he’d sell himself short like that. It made it impossible to hold myself back.
“You’re everything to me,” I breathed. “I think about you all the time.”
“It’s no different for me.”
“Really?” I lowered my voice further, trying to keep it down. “Because I have it so bad for you. I get—well, hot. Like I’m overcome with this desperate need to be touching you. My brain scatters and I have to take a minute to ride it out, but it’s so hard to deal. So many times I’ve almost dropped whatever I’m doing to get to you.”
“Eva—”
“I have fantasies about barging into one of your meetings and just running right into you. Have I told you that? When the craving is really bad, I can almost feel you pulling at me.”
I rushed on when I heard him growl softly. “I lose my breath every time I see you. If I close my eyes, I can hear your voice. I woke up this morning and I panicked a little because you’re so far away. I would’ve given anything to be able to get to you. I wanted to cry because I couldn’t.”
“If you’re going to worry about anything, Gideon, it should be me. Because I can’t be rational when it comes to you. I’m crazy about you. Literally. I can’t think about a future without you—it freaks me out.”
“Goddamn it. You’ll never be without me. We’re going to grow old together. Die together. I’m not going to live a single day without you.”
A tear slid from the corner of my eye. I scrubbed it away. “I need you to understand that you’ll never have to settle for pieces of me. You shouldn’t be settling at all. You deserve so much better. You could have anyone—”
“That’s enough!”
I jumped at the lash of his voice.
“You will not ever say anything like that to me again,” he snapped. “Or I swear to God, angel, I will punish you.”
Shocked silence filled the space between us. The words I’d spoken circled restlessly in my mind, taunting me with how pathetic I could be. I never wanted to be dependent on him, but I already was.
“I have to go,” I said hoarsely.
“Don’t hang up. For God’s sake, Eva, we’re married. We’re in love. There’s no shame in that. So what if it’s crazy? It’s us. It’s who we are. You need to come to grips with that.”
The screen door squeaked as my dad stepped onto the porch. I looked at him and said, “My dad’s here, Gideon. I’ll have to talk to you later.”
“You make me happy,” he said, in the deep firm tone he used when making an unswayable decision. “I’d forgotten what that feels like. Don’t devalue what you mean to me.”
God.
“I love you, too.” I ended the call and set the phone down on the table with a shaky hand.
My dad settled into the other chair with his coffee. He wore long shorts and a dark olive T-shirt, but his feet were bare. He’d shaved and his hair was still damp, the ends curling slightly as they dried.
He was my father, but that didn’t stop me from appreciating the fact that he was ridiculously attractive. He kept himself in great shape and had a naturally confident bearing. I could see why my mother hadn’t been able to resist him when they’d met. And apparently still couldn’t.
“I heard you talking,” he said without looking at me.
“Oh.” My stomach dropped. It was bad enough spilling my guts to Gideon. Knowing that my dad had heard me do it only made it worse.
“I was going to talk to you about whether you knew what you were doing, getting engaged so soon and so young.”
I pulled my legs up and crossed them under me. “I figured you would.”
“But now I think I understand what you’re feeling.” He looked at me, his gray eyes soft and searching. “You express it far better than I ever could, back in the day. The most I could ever get out was ‘I love you,’ and it’s just not enough.”
I could see he was thinking about my mom. I knew it must be hard not to when I looked so much like her. “Gideon doesn’t think those words are enough, either.”
I looked down at my rings. The one Gideon had given me to express his need to hold on to me, and the other both a symbol of his commitment and a tribute to a time in his past when he’d last felt loved. “He shows me, though. All the time.”
“I’ve talked to him a few times now.” My dad paused. “I have to remind myself that he’s in his twenties.”
That made me smile. “He’s very self-possessed.”
“He’s also very hard to read.”
My smile widened. “He’s a poker player. But he means what he says.”
I believed Gideon implicitly. He always told me the truth. The problem was, there was a lot he didn’t tell me.
“And he wants to marry my daughter.”
I shot him a look. “You gave him your blessing.”
“He said he would always take care of you. He promised to keep you safe and make you happy.” He stared across the street at the Benz. “I still don’t know why I believe him, even with him staking out my place for you. Doesn’t help that he lied about waiting to ask you.”
“He couldn’t wait, Dad. Don’t hold it against him. He loves me too much.”
He looked at me again. “You didn’t sound happy when you were just talking to him.”
“No. I sounded desperate and insecure.” I sighed. “I love him like mad, but I hate when I get needy with it. We should be balanced in our relationship. Equals.”
“Good goal. Don’t lose sight of it. Does he want that, too?”
“He wants us to be together. In everything. But he’s built a reputation and an empire, and I want to build my own. Not necessarily the empire, but the reputation for sure.”
“Have you talked to him about this?”
“Oh yeah.” My mouth quirked. “But he believes Mrs. Cross should naturally play on Team Cross. And I can see his point.”
“It’s good to hear that you’ve been thinking this through.”
I heard the pause. “But?”
“But that could be a serious issue, couldn’t it?”
I loved the way my dad urged me to explore without trying to sway me or judge. He’d always been that way. “Yes. I don’t think it would become a deal breaker for us, but it could cause problems. He isn’t used to not getting what he wants.”
“Then you’re good for him.”
“He thinks so.” I shrugged. “Gideon isn’t the problem. It’s me. He’s been through a lot in his life and he’s had to deal with it on his own. I don’t want him to feel like he’s got to handle everything himself anymore. I want him to feel like we’re a unit and that I’m here to support him. That’s a hard message to send when I want my own independence, too.”
“You’re a lot like me,” he said with a soft smile, looking so handsome that my heart swelled with pride.
“I know you’ll get along with him. He’s a good man, with a beautiful heart. He’d do anything for me, Dad.” Even kill for me.
The thought made me queasy. The possibility that Gideon would have to answer for Nathan’s death in some way was all too real. I couldn’t let anything happen to him.
“Would he let me pay for the wedding?” My dad snorted out a laugh. “I guess I should ask how much of a fight you think your mother would give me.”
“Dad …” My chest tightened again. After the discussions we’d had about paying for my college tuition, I knew better than to say he didn’t have to stretch his finances to the breaking point for me. It was a point of pride and my father was a very proud man. “I don’t know what to say except thank you.”
He gave me a relieved smile and I realized that he’d been expecting me to be resistant, too. “I’ve got about fifty large. I know it’s not much—”
I reached for his hand. “It’s perfect.”
I could already hear my mom’s freakout in my head. I’d cope with that when the time came.
It would be worth it for the look on my father’s face at that moment.
“IT hasn’t changed.” Cary paused on the sidewalk outside the former recreation center and pulled the sunglasses off his face. His gaze slid over the gym’s entrance. “I’ve missed this place.”
I reached for his hand and linked our fingers. “Me, too.”
We headed up the walk and nodded at the couple standing by the door smoking. Then we went inside and were greeted by the sights and sounds of a hoops match in progress. Two teams of three played a half-court game, taunting each other and laughing. I knew from experience that sometimes Dr. Travis’s unusual offices were the only place one felt free and safe enough to laugh.
We waved at the players, who paused just long enough to register us, and then we made a beeline for the door that still had Coach emblazoned on the glass inset. It was ajar and a beloved figure lounged in a worn desk chair with his feet propped on the desk. He tossed a tennis ball against the wall and caught it deftly, over and over, while a fellow patient I knew from before vaped on an electronic cigarette and talked.
“Oh my God.” Kyle stood in a rush, her pretty red mouth falling open and a cloud of vapor billowing out. “I didn’t know you two were back!”
She launched herself at Cary, barely giving me time to let his hand go.
Dr. Travis folded his legs and then stood, his kind face splitting with a welcoming grin. He was dressed in his usual khakis and dress shirt, with the leather sandals on his feet and the earrings in his ears giving him away as a tad unconventional. His sandy brown hair was shaggy and messy, and his wire-rimmed glasses were slightly skewed on the bridge of his nose.
“I wasn’t expecting you two until sometime after three,” he said.
“It’s after three in New York,” Cary rejoined, disentangling himself from Kyle.
I had my suspicions that Cary had slept with the pretty blonde at some point, and that she hadn’t brushed it off as easily as he had.
Dr. Travis caught me up in a quick hug, then did the same to Cary. I watched my best friend’s eyes close and his cheek rest for a moment on Dr. Travis’s shoulder. My eyes stung as they always did whenever I saw Cary happy. Dr. Travis was the closest thing to a father that he had and I knew how much Cary loved him.
“You two still watching each other’s backs in the Big Apple?”
“Of course,” I replied.
Cary jerked his thumb at me. “She’s getting married. I’m having a baby.”
Kyle gasped.
I elbowed Cary in the ribs.
“Oww,” he complained, rubbing his side.
Dr. Travis blinked. “Congratulations. Quick work, both of you.”
“I’ll say,” Kyle muttered. “What’s it been? A month?”
“Kyle.” Dr. Travis tucked his chair into his desk. “Would you give us a minute?”
She snorted and sauntered toward the door. “You’re good, Doc, but I think you’re going to need more time than that.”
“ENGAGED, huh?” Kyle took another drag off her e-cigarette, her eyes on Cary as he leaped above Dr. Travis’s head and made a slam dunk. We sat on the worn bleachers about three rows from the top, enough distance away that we couldn’t overhear the therapy session taking place on the court.
Cary got restless when he opened up. Dr. Travis had quickly learned to keep Cary physically active if he wanted to keep him talking.
Kyle looked at me. “I always kinda figured you and Cary would end up together.”
I laughed and shook my head. “It’s not like that with us. Never has been.”
She shrugged. Her eyes were the color of the San Diego sky and heavily rimmed with electric blue liner. “You known this guy you’re marrying long?”
“Long enough.”
Dr. Travis nailed a bank shot and then ruffled Cary’s hair affectionately. I saw him glance at me and knew it was my turn.
I stood and stretched. “Catch you later,” I said to Kyle.
“Good luck.”
My mouth twisted wryly and I made my way down the stairs until I reached Dr. Travis.
He was about Gideon’s height, so I stopped before I hit the bottom stair so that we were briefly at eye level. “You ever consider moving to New York, Doc?”
He smiled his crooked smile. “As if California taxes aren’t bad enough.”
I sighed dramatically. “I had to try.”
His arm slung around my shoulders when I joined him courtside. “So did Cary. I’m flattered.”
We went to his office. I shut the door while he nabbed a dinged metal chair and spun it around to sit facing backward with his arms draped along the backrest. It was one of his quirks. He sat in the desk chair when he was just hanging out; he straddled the relic when he got down to business.
“Tell me about your fiancé,” he said, when I took my usual spot on the green vinyl sofa that was held together with duct tape and decorated with signatures of former and existing patients.
“Come on,” I chided. “We both know Cary filled you in.”
Cary always started his sessions with talk about my life and me. That eventually dovetailed into talk about him.
“And I know who Gideon Cross is.” Dr. Travis tapped his feet in that way he had that somehow never seemed restless or impatient. “But I want to hear about the man you’re going to marry.”
I thought for a minute and he sat quietly while I did, not waiting, just observing. “Gideon is … God, he’s so many things. He’s complicated. We have some issues to work out, but we’ll get there. My more immediate problem is the feelings I’m having for this singer I used to … see.”
“Brett Kline?”
“Cary reminded me, but I remember our discussions about him.”
“Yeah, well.” I looked at my stunning wedding ring, twisting it around my finger. “I’m so in love with Gideon. He’s changed my life in so many ways. He makes me feel beautiful and precious. I know it seems too fast, but he’s the one for me.”
Dr. Travis smiled. “It was love at first sight for me and my wife. We were in high school when we met, but I knew she was the girl I was going to marry.”
My gaze drifted to the pictures of his wife on his desk. There was one when she was younger, and another more recent. The office itself was a mess of papers, sports equipment, books, and ancient posters of bygone sports personalities, but the frames and glass protecting the photos were spotless.
“I don’t understand why Brett has any effect on me at all. It’s not that I want him. I can’t imagine being with anyone else but Gideon. Sexually or otherwise. But I’m not indifferent to Brett.”
“Why should you be?” he asked simply. “He was a part of your life at a pivotal time, and the end of your relationship caused a bit of an epiphany for you.”
“My … interest—that’s not the right word—doesn’t feel like nostalgia.”
“No, I’m sure it doesn’t. I would guess you’re feeling some regret. Thinking about what-ifs. It was a highly sexual relationship for you, so there may be some lingering attraction, even if you know you’d never go there again.”
I was almost sure he was right about that.
His fingertips drummed on the back of the chair. “You said your fiancé is a complicated man and you’re working on some issues. Brett was very simple. You knew what you were getting with him. In the last few months, you’ve had a big move, you’re closer to your mother, and you’re engaged. You may, occasionally, wish things were simpler.”
I stared at him as that sank in. “How do you make sense like that?”
“Practice.”
Fear made me say, “I don’t want to screw things up with Gideon.”
“Do you have someone you’re talking with in New York?”
“We’re in couples therapy.”
He nodded. “Practical. That’s good. He wants it to work, too. Does he know?”
About Nathan? “Yes.”
“I’m proud of you, kiddo.”
“I’m going to avoid Brett, but I wonder if that means I’m not dealing with the root of the problem. Like an alcoholic who doesn’t drink is still an alcoholic. The problem is still there, they’re just staying away from it.”
“Not quite true, but interesting that you’d use an addiction analogy. You’re prone to self-destructive behavior with men. A lot of individuals with your history are, so it’s not unexpected and we’ve addressed that before.”
“I know.” That was why I was so afraid of getting lost in Gideon.
“There are a few things you have to consider,” he continued. “You’re engaged to a man who, on the surface, is very much the sort of man your mother would want for you. Considering how you feel about your mother’s dependence on men, there might be some resistance you’re feeling.”
My nose wrinkled.
He wagged his finger at me. “Ah, a possibility? The other is that you might not feel you deserve what you’ve found with him.”
A rock settled in my gut. “And I deserve Brett?”
“Eva.” He gave me a kind smile. “The fact you’re even asking that question … that’s your problem right there.”
