Текст книги "Reflected In You"

Автор книги: Sylvia Day

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“I missed you like crazy, too,” I said, sniffling.

We took a cab back to my place. On the ride over, my dad asked me the same sort of investigative questions about Cary’s attack as the detectives had asked Cary in the hospital. I tried to keep him distracted with that discussion when we pulled up outside my building, but it didn’t do any good.

My dad’s eagle eyes took in the modern glass overhang attached to the brick façade of the building. He stared at the doorman, Paul, who touched the brim of his hat and opened the door for us. He studied the front desk and concierge, and rocked back on his heels as we waited for the elevator.

He didn’t say anything and kept his poker face on, but I knew he was thinking about how much my digs must cost in a city like New York. When I showed him into my apartment, his sweeping gaze took in the size of the place. The massive windows had a stunning view of the city, and the flat-screen television mounted on the wall was just one of the many top-of-the-line electronics on display.

He knew I couldn’t afford the place on my own. He knew my mother’s husband was providing for me in ways he would never be able to. And I wondered if he thought about my mother, and how what she needed was also beyond his means.

“The security here is really tight,” I told him by way of explanation. “It’s impossible to get past the front desk if you’re not on the list and a resident can’t be reached to vouch for you.”

My dad exhaled in a rush. “That’s good.”

“Yeah. I don’t think Mom could sleep at night otherwise.”

That made some of the tension leave his shoulders.

“Let me show you to your room.” I led him down the hallway to the guest room suite. It had its own bathroom and mini-bar with fridge. I saw him noting those things before he dropped his duffel on the king-size bed. “Are you tired?”

He looked at me. “I know you are. And you have to work today, don’t you? Why don’t we nap for a bit before you have to get up?”

I stifled a yawn and nodded, knowing I could use the couple of hours of shut-eye. “Sounds good.”

“Wake me when you’re up,” he said, rolling his shoulders back. “I’ll make the coffee while you’re getting ready.”

“Awesome.” My voice came husky with suppressed tears. Gideon almost always had coffee waiting for me on days when he’d spent the night, because he got up before me. I missed that little ritual of ours.

Somehow, I’d have to learn to live without it.

Pushing up onto my tiptoes, I kissed my dad’s cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here, Daddy.”

I closed my eyes and clung tightly when he hugged me.

* * *

I stepped out of the small market with my bags of grocery ingredients for dinner and frowned at finding Angus idling at the curb. I’d refused a ride in the morning and again when I’d left the Crossfire, and he was still following and shadowing. It was ridiculous. I couldn’t help but wonder if Gideon didn’t want me as a girlfriend anymore, but his neurotic lust for my body meant that he didn’t want anyone else to have me-namely Brett.

As I walked home, I entertained thoughts of having Brett over for dinner instead, imagining Angus having to make that call to Gideon when Brett came strolling up to my place. It was just a quick vengeful fantasy, since I wouldn’t lead Brett on that way and he was in Florida anyway, but it did the trick. My step lightened and when I entered my apartment, I was in my first really good mood in days.

I dumped all the dinner stuff off in the kitchen, then went to find my dad. He was hanging out in Cary’s room playing a video game. Cary worked a nunchuk one-handed, since his other hand was in a cast.

“Woo!” my dad shouted. “Spanked.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Cary shot back, “taking advantage of an invalid.”

“I’m crying a river here.”

Cary looked at me in the doorway and winked. I loved him so much in that moment I couldn’t stop myself from crossing over to him and pressing a kiss to his bruised forehead.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Thank me with dinner. I’m starving.”

I straightened. “I got the goods to make enchiladas.”

My dad looked at me, smiling, knowing I’d need his help. “Yeah?”

“When you’re ready,” I told him. “I’m going to grab a shower.”

Forty-five minutes later, my dad and I were in the kitchen rolling cheese and store-bought rotisserie chicken-my little cheat to save time-into lard-soaked white corn tortillas. In the living room, the CD changer slipped in the next disk and Van Morrison’s soulful voice piped through the surround sound speakers.

“Oh yeah,” my dad said, reaching for my hand and tugging me away from the counter. “Hum-de-rum, hum-de-rum, moondance,” he sang in his deep baritone, twirling me.

I laughed, delighted.

Using the back of his hand against my spine to keep his greasy fingers off me, he swept me into a dance around the island, both of us singing the song and laughing. We were making our second revolution when I noticed the two people standing at the breakfast bar.

My smile fled and I stumbled, forcing my dad to catch me.

“You got two left feet?” he teased, his eyes only on me.

“Eva’s a wonderful dancer,” Gideon interjected, his face arrested in that implacable mask I detested.

My dad turned, his smile fading, too.

Gideon rounded the bar and entered the kitchen. He’d dressed for the occasion in jeans and a Yankees T-shirt. It was a suitably casual choice and a conversation starter, since my dad was a die-hard Padres fan.

“I hadn’t realized she was such a good singer, as well. Gideon Cross,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

“Victor Reyes.” My dad waved his shiny fingers. “I’m a bit messy.”

“I don’t mind.”

Shrugging, my dad took his hand and sized him up.

I tossed the dish towel to the guys and made my way over to Ireland, who was positively glowing. Her blue eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” I said, hugging her carefully. “You look gorgeous!”

“So do you!”

It was a fib, but I appreciated it anyway. I hadn’t done anything to my face or hair after my shower, because I knew my dad wouldn’t care and I hadn’t expected Gideon to show up. After all, the last time I’d heard from him had been when he’d said he would meet me at Dr. Petersen’s office.

She looked over at the counter where I’d dumped everything. “Can I help?”

“Sure. Just don’t count calories in your head-it’ll explode.” I introduced her to my dad, who was much warmer to her than he was to Gideon, and then I led her to the sink, where she washed up.

In short order, I had her helping to roll the last few enchiladas, while my dad put the already chilled Dos Equis Gideon had brought into the fridge. I didn’t even bother to wonder how Gideon knew I was serving Mexican food for dinner. I only wondered why he’d invest the time to find out when it was very clear he other things to do-like ditch his appointments.

My dad went to his room to wash up. Gideon came up behind me and put his hands on my waist, his lips brushing over my temple. “Eva.”

I tensed against the nearly irresistible urge to lean into him. “Don’t,” I whispered. “I’d rather we didn’t pretend.”

His breath left him in a rush that ruffled my hair. His fingers tightened on my hips, kneading for a moment. Then I felt his phone vibrate and he released me, backing away to look at the screen.

“Excuse me,” he said gruffly, leaving the kitchen before answering.

Ireland sidled over and whispered, “Thank you. I know you made him bring me along.”

I managed a smile for her. “Nobody can make Gideon do anything he doesn’t want to.”

“You could.” She tossed her head, throwing her sleek waist-length black hair over her shoulder. “You didn’t see him watching you dance with your dad. His eyes got all shiny. I thought he was going to cry. And on the way up here, in the elevator, he tried to play it off, but I could totally tell he was nervous.”

I stared down at the can of enchilada sauce in my hands, feeling my heart break a little more.

“You’re mad at him, aren’t you?” Ireland asked.

I cleared my throat. “Some people are just better off as friends.”

“But you said you love him.”

“That’s not always enough.” I turned around to reach the can opener and found Gideon standing at the other end of the island, staring at me. I froze.

A muscle in his jaw twitched before he unclenched it. “Would you like a beer?” he asked gruffly.

I nodded. I could’ve used a shot, too. Maybe a few.

“Want a glass?”

“No.”

He looked at Ireland. “You thirsty? There’s soda, water, milk.”

“How about one of those beers?” she shot back, flashing a winsome smile.

“Try again,” he said wryly.

I watched Ireland, noting how she sparkled when Gideon focused on her. I couldn’t believe he didn’t see how she loved him. Maybe right now it was based on superficial things, but it was there and it would grow with a little encouragement. I hoped he’d work on that.

When Gideon handed me the chilled beer, his fingers brushed mine. He held on for a minute, looking into my eyes. I knew he was thinking about the other night.

It seemed like a dream now, as if his visit never really happened. I could almost believe that I’d made it up in a desperate delusion, so hungry for his touch and his love that I couldn’t go another minute without giving my mind relief from the madness of wanting and craving. If it weren’t for the lingering soreness deep inside me, I wouldn’t know what was real and what was nothing but false hope.

I pulled the beer out of his grasp and turned away. I didn’t want to say we were done and over, but it was certain now that we needed a break from each other. Gideon needed to figure out what he was doing, what he was looking for, and whether I had any meaningful place in his life. Because this roller-coaster ride we were on was going to break me, and I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” he asked.

I answered without looking at him, because doing so was too painful. “Can you see if we can get Cary out here? He’s got a wheelchair.”

“All right.”

He left the room, and I could suddenly breathe deeply again.

Ireland hurried over. “What happened to Cary?”

“I’ll tell you about it while we set the table.”

* * *

I was surprised I could eat. I think I was too fascinated by the silent showdown between my dad and Gideon to notice that I was stuffing food into my mouth. At one end of the table, Cary was charming Ireland into peals of laughter that kept making me smile. At the other end, my dad sat at the head of the table, with Gideon on his left and me on his right.

They were talking. The conversation had opened with baseball, as I’d expected, then migrated into golf. On the surface, both men seemed relaxed, but the air around them was highly charged. I noticed that Gideon wasn’t wearing his expensive watch. He’d planned carefully to appear as “normal” as possible.

But nothing Gideon did on the outside could change who he was on the inside. It was impossible to hide what he was-a dominant male, a captain of industry, a man of privilege. It was in every gesture he made, every word he spoke, every look he gave.

So he and my father were in the position of struggling to find who would be the alpha, and I suspected Ihung in the balance. As if anyone were in control of my life but me.

Still, I understood that my father had only really been allowed to bea dad in the last four years, and he wasn’t ready to give it up. Gideon, however, was jockeying for a position I was no longer prepared to give him.

But he was wearing the ring I’d given him. I tried not to read anything into it, but I wanted to hope. I wanted to believe.

We’d all finished the main course and I was pushing to my feet to clear the table for dessert when the intercom buzzed. I answered.

“Eva? NYPD detectives Graves and Michna are here,” the gal at the front desk said.

I glanced at Cary, wondering if the detectives had found out who’d attacked him. I gave the go-ahead for them to come up and hurried back to the dining table.

Cary looked at me with raised brows, curious.

“It’s the detectives,” I explained. “Maybe they have news.”

My dad’s focus immediately shifted. Honed. “I’ll let them in.”

Ireland helped me clear up. We’d just dumped the cups into the sink when the doorbell rang. I wiped my hands with a dish towel and went out to the living room.

The two detectives who entered weren’t the ones I expected, because they weren’t the ones who’d questioned Cary at the hospital on Monday.

Gideon appeared out of the hallway, shoving his phone into his pocket.

I wondered who’d been calling him all night.

“Eva Tramell,” the female detective said, stepping deeper into my apartment. She was a thin woman with a severe face and sharply intelligent blue eyes, which were her best feature. Her hair was brown and curly, her face clean of makeup. She wore slacks over dark flats, a poplin shirt, and a lightweight jacket that didn’t hide the badge and gun clipped to her belt. “I’m Detective Shelley Graves of the NYPD. This is my partner Detective Richard Michna. We’re sorry to disturb you on a Friday night.”

Michna was older, taller, and portly. His hair was graying at the temples and receding at the top, but he had a strong face and dark eyes that raked the room while Graves focused on me.

“Hello,” I greeted them.

My father shut the door, and something about the way he moved or carried himself caught Michna’s attention. “You on the job?”

“In California,” my dad confirmed. “I’m visiting Eva, my daughter. What’s this about?”

“We’d just like to ask you a few questions, Miss Tramell,” Graves said. She looked at Gideon. “And you, too, Mr. Cross.”

“Does this have something to do with the attack on Cary?” I asked.

She glanced at him. “Why don’t we sit down.”

We all moved into the living room, but only Ireland and I ended up taking a seat. Everyone else remained on their feet, with my dad pushing Cary’s wheelchair.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Michna said.

“Thank you.” I looked at Cary, wondering what the hell was going on.

“How long are you in town?” the detective asked my dad.

“Just for the weekend.”

Graves smiled at me. “You go out to California a lot to see your dad?”

“I just moved from there a couple months ago.”

“I went to Disneyland once when I was a kid,” she said. “That was a while ago, obviously. I’ve been meaning to get back out there.”

I frowned, not understanding why we were making small talk.

“We just need to ask you a couple of questions,” Michna said, pulling a notepad out of the interior pocket of his jacket. “We don’t want to hold you up any longer than we have to.”

Graves nodded, her eyes still on me. “Can you tell us if you’re familiar with a man named Nathan Barker, Miss Tramell?”

The room spun. Cary cursed and pushed unsteadily to his feet, taking the few steps to reach the seat beside me. He caught up my hand.

“Miss Tramell?” Graves took a seat on the other end of the sectional.

“He’s her former stepbrother,” Cary snapped. “What’s this about?”

“When’s the last time you saw Barker?” Michna asked.

In a courtroom…I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry as sawdust. “Eight years ago,” I said hoarsely.

“Did you know he was here in New York?”

Oh God.I shook my head violently.

“Where’s this going?” my dad asked.

I looked helplessly at Cary, then at Gideon. My dad didn’t know about Nathan. I didn’t want him to know.

Cary squeezed my hand. Gideon wouldn’t even look at me.

“Mr. Cross,” Graves said. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you know Nathan Barker?”

My eyes pleaded with Gideon not to say anything in front of my dad, but he never once glanced my way.

“You wouldn’t be asking that question,” he answered, “if you didn’t already know the answer.”

My stomach dropped. A violent shiver moved through me. Still, Gideon wouldn’t look at me. My brain was trying to process what was happening… what it meant… what was going on…

“Is there a point to these questions?” my father asked.

The blood was roaring in my ears. My heart was pounding with something like terror. The mere thought of Nathan being so close was enough to send me into a panic. I was panting. The room was swimming before my eyes. I thought I might pass out.

Graves was watching me like a hawk. “Can you just tell us where you were yesterday, Miss Tramell?”

“Where I was?” I repeated. “Yesterday?”

“Don’t answer that,” my dad ordered. “This interview isn’t going any further until we know what this is about.”

Michna nodded, as if he’d expected the interruption. “Nathan Barker was found dead this morning.”

Chapter 16

As soon as Detective Michna finished his sentence, my dad cut the questioning off. “We’re done here,” he said grimly. “If you have any further questions, you can make an appointment for my daughter to come in with counsel.”

“How about you, Mr. Cross?” Michna’s gaze moved to Gideon. “Would you mind telling us where you were yesterday?”

Gideon moved from his position behind the couch. “Why don’t we talk while I show you out?”

I stared at him, but he still wouldn’t look at me.

What else didn’t he want me to know? How much was he hiding from me?

Ireland’s fingers threaded with mine. Cary sat on one side of me and Ireland on the other, while the man I loved stood several feet away and hadn’t glanced at me in almost half an hour. I felt like a cold rock had settled in my gut.

The detectives took down my phone numbers, then left with Gideon. I watched the three of them walk out, saw my dad eyeing Gideon with a hard speculative look.

“Maybe he was buying you an engagement ring,” Ireland whispered. “And he doesn’t want to blow the surprise.”

I squeezed her hand for being sweet and thinking so highly of her brother. I hoped he never let her down or disillusioned her. The way Iwas now disillusioned. Gideon and I were nothing-we had nothing together-if he couldn’t be honest with me.

Why hadn’t he told me about Nathan?

Releasing Cary and Ireland, I stood and went into the kitchen. My dad followed me.

“Want to fill me in with what’s going on?” he asked.

“I have no idea. This is all news to me.”

He leaned his hip into the counter and studied me. “What’s the history with you and Nathan Barker? You heard his name and looked like you were going to pass out.”

I started rinsing off the dishes and loading the dishwasher. “He was a bully, Dad. That’s all. He didn’t like that his dad remarried, and he especially didn’t like that his new stepmom already had a kid.”

“Why would Gideon have anything to do with him?”

“That’s a really good question.” As I gripped the edge of the sink, I bowed my head and closed my eyes. That was what had driven the wedge between me and Gideon– Nathan.I knew it.

“Eva?” My dad’s hands settled on my shoulders and kneaded into the hard, aching muscles. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.” I shut off the water and left the rest of the dishes where they were. I went to the cupboard where we kept our vitamins and over-the-counter medicines and took out two nighttime painkillers. I wanted a deep, dreamless sleep. I needed it, so I could wake up in a condition to figure out what I needed to do.

I looked at my dad. “Can you take care of Ireland until Gideon gets back?”

“Of course.” He kissed my forehead. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Ireland found me before I could find her. “Are you okay?” she asked, stepping into the kitchen.

“I’m going to lie down, if you don’t mind. I know that’s rude.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Really, I’m sorry.” I pulled her close for a hug. “We’ll do this again. Maybe a girls’ day? Hit the spa or go shopping?”

“Sure. Call me?”

“I will.” I let her go and passed through the living room to get to the hallway.

The front door opened and Gideon walked in. Our gazes met and held. I could read nothing in his. I looked away, went to my room, and locked the door.

* * *

I was up at nine the next morning, feeling groggy and grumpy but no longer overwhelmingly tired. I knew I needed to call Stanton and my mom, but I needed caffeine first.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and shuffled out to the living room. I was almost to the kitchen-the source of the luscious smell of coffee-when the doorbell rang. My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t help the instinctive reaction I had to thoughts of Gideon, who was one of the three people on the list to get past the front desk.

But when I opened the door, it was my mother. I hoped I didn’t look too disappointed, but I don’t think she noticed anyway. She swept right past me in a seafoam green dress that looked painted on, and she pulled it off as very few women could, somehow making the outfit sexy and elegant and age-appropriate. Of course, she looked young enough to be my sister.

She raked a glance over my comfortable SDSU sweatpants and camisole before saying, “Eva. My God. You have no idea-”

“Nathan’s dead.” I shut the door and glanced nervously down the hallway at the guest bedroom, praying that my dad was still functioning on West Coast time and sleeping.

“Oh.” She turned around and faced me, and I got my first good look at her. Her mouth was thinned with worry, her blue eyes haunted. “Have the police come by already? They only just left us.”

“They were here last night.” I headed into the kitchen and straight to the coffeemaker.

“Why didn’t you call us? We should have been with you. You should’ve had a lawyerwith you, at the very least.”

“It was a real quick visit, Mom. Want some?” I held up the carafe.

“No, thank you. You shouldn’t drink so much of that stuff. It’s not good for you.”

I put the carafe back and opened the fridge.

“Dear God, Eva,” my mother muttered, watching me. “Do you realize how many calories are in half-and-half?”

I set a bottle of water in front of her and moved back to lighten my coffee. “They were here for about thirty minutes and then left. They didn’t get anything out of me beyond Nathan being my former stepbrother and that I haven’t seen him in eight years.”

“Thank God you didn’t say more.” She twisted open her water.

I grabbed my mug. “Let’s move to my sitting room.”

“What? Why? You never sit in there.”

She was right, but using it would help prevent a surprise run-in between my parents.

“But youlike it,” I pointed out. We entered through my bedroom and I shut the door behind us, breathing a sigh of relief.

“I do like it,” my mother said, turning to take it all in.

Of course she liked it; she’d decorated it. I liked it, too, but didn’t really have a use for it. I’d thought about turning it into an adjoining bedroom for Gideon, but everything could be changing now. He’d pulled away from me, hidden Nathan and a dinner with Corinne from me. I wanted an explanation, and depending on what that was, we were going to either recommit to moving forward or take the painful steps to move away from each other.

My mom settled gracefully on the chaise, her gaze coming to rest on me. “You’ll have to be very careful with the police, Eva. If they want to talk to you again, let Richard know so he can have his lawyers present.”

“Why? I don’t understand why I should worry about what I say or don’t say. I haven’t done anything wrong. I didn’t even know he was in town.” I watched her gaze skitter away from mine, and my tone firmed. “What’s going on, Mom?”

She took a drink before speaking. “Nathan showed up in Richard’s office last week. He wanted two and a half million dollars.”

There was a sudden roaring in my ears. “What?”

“He wanted money,” she said stiffly. “A lot of it.”

“Why the hell would he think he’d get any?”

“He has– had-photos, Eva.” Her lower lip began to quiver. “And video. Of you.”

“Oh my God.” I set my coffee aside with shaking hands and bent over, putting my head between my knees. “Oh God, I’m going to be sick.”

And Gideon had seen Nathan-he’d confessed as much when he answered the detectives’ questions. If he’d seen the pictures… been disgusted by them… it would explain why he cut me off. Why he’d been so tormented when he came to my bed. He might still want me, but he might not be able to live with the images now filling his head.

It has to be this way, he’d said.

A horrible sound escaped me. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Nathan might have captured. I didn’t want to.

No wonder Gideon couldn’t stand to look at me. When he’d made love to me the last time, it had been in utter darkness, where he could hear me and smell me and feel me-but not see me.

I stifled a scream of pain by biting my forearm.

“Baby, no!” My mother sank to her knees in front of me, urging me gently off the chair and onto the floor where she could rock me. “Shh. It’s over. He’s dead.”

I curled into her lap, sobbing, realizing it truly was over-I’d lost Gideon. He would hate himself for turning away from me, but I understood why he might not be able to stop himself. If looking at me now reminded him of his own brutal past, how could he stand it? How could I?

My mother’s hand stroked over my hair. I felt her crying, too. “Shh,” she hushed me, her voice shaking. “Shh, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

Eventually there were no more tears left to cry. I was empty, but with that emptiness came new clarity. I couldn’t change what had happened, but I could do what was necessary to make sure that no one I loved suffered for it.

I sat up and wiped at my eyes.

“You shouldn’t do that,” my mother scolded. “Rubbing at your eyes like that will give you wrinkles.”

For some reason, I found her concern for my future crow’s-feet hysterical. I tried to hold it in, but a snorted laugh broke free.

“Eva Lauren!”

I thought her indignation was funny, too. I laughed some more, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. I laughed until my sides hurt and I fell over.

“Oh, stop it!” She shoved at my shoulder. “It’s not funny.”

I laughed until I managed to squeeze out a few more tears.

“Eva, really!” But she was starting to smile.

I laughed until I wasn’t laughing so much as sobbing again, dry and silent. I heard my mother giggling, and that somehow blended perfectly with my racking pain. I couldn’t explain it, but as horrible and hopeless as I felt, my mother’s presence-complete with all her little quirks and admonitions that drove me insane-was just what I needed.

With my hands on my cramping stomach, I took a deep cleansing breath. “Did he arrange it?” I asked softly.

Her smiled faded. “Who? Richard? Arrange what? The money? Oh…”

I waited.

“No!” she protested. “He wouldn’t. His mind doesn’t work that way.”

“Okay. I just had to know.” I couldn’t see Stanton ordering a hit, either. But Gideon…

I knew from his nightmares that his desire for vengeance was colored by violence. And I’d seen him fight Brett. The memory was seared in my mind. Gideon was capable, and with his history-

I took a deep breath, then blew it out. “How much do the police know?”

“Everything.” Her eyes were soft and wet with guilt. “The seal on Nathan’s records was broken when he died.”

“And how did he die?”

“They didn’t say.”

“I suppose it’s not important. We have a motive.” I ran my hand through my hair. “It probably doesn’t matter that we didn’t personally have the opportunity. Your time is accounted for, isn’t it? And Stanton’s?”

“Yes. And yours, too?”

“Yes.” But I didn’t know about Gideon’s. Not that it mattered. No one would expect men like Gideon and Stanton to get their hands dirty cleaning up a mess like Nathan.

We had more than one motive-the blackmail and revenge for what he’d done to me-and means, and means gave us the opportunity.

* * *

I brushed my hair again and splashed water on my face, all the while thinking of how I was going to get my mom out of my apartment undetected. When I found her digging through the closet in my bedroom-concerned as always about my style and appearance-I knew what to do.

“Remember that skirt I picked up at Macy’s?” I asked her. “The green one?”

“Oh, yes. Very pretty.”

“I haven’t been able to wear it, because I can’t think of anything I have to go with it. Can you help me find something?”

“Eva,” she said, exasperated. “You should’ve established a personal style by now-and it shouldn’t be sweats!”

“Help me out, Mom. I’ll be right back.” I took my coffee mug with me to have a purpose for leaving her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Where would I go?” she replied, her voice muffled because she’d stepped deeper into my walk-in closet.

I did a quick check of the living room and kitchen. My dad was nowhere to be seen and his bedroom door was closed, as was Cary’s. I hurried back into my room.

“How’s this?” she asked, holding up a champagne-hued silk blouse. The combination was gorgeous and classy.

“I love it! You rock! Thank you. But I’m sure you have to go now, right? I don’t want to hold you up.”

My mom frowned at me. “I’m not in a hurry.”

“What about Stanton? This has got to be weighing on his mind. And it’s a Saturday-he always reserves his weekends for you. He needs to have the time with you.”

And God, did I feel awful for his stress. Stanton had spent a great deal of his time and money on issues pertaining to me and Nathan over the four years he’d been married to my mother. It was too much to ask of anyone, but he’d come through for us. For the rest of my life, I would owe him for loving my mother so much.

“This is weighing on your mind, too,” she argued. “I want to be here for you, Eva. I want to support you.”

My throat tightened, understanding that she was trying to make amends for what had happened to me because she was unable to forgive herself. “It’s okay,” I said hoarsely. “I’ll be okay. And honestly, I’d feel terrible keeping you away from Stanton after all he’s done for us. You’re his reward, his little piece of heaven at the end of an endless workweek.”

Her lips curved in an enchanting smile. “What a lovely thing to say.”

Yes, I’d thought so, too, the times Gideon had said similar things to me.

It seemed impossible that only a week before, we’d been at the beach house, madly in love and taking firm, sure steps forward in our relationship.

But now that relationship was broken, and now I knew why. I was angry and hurt that Gideon had kept something as monumental as Nathan being in New York hidden from me. I was furious that he hadn’t talked to me about what he was thinking and feeling. But I understood, too. He was a man who’d avoided talking about anything personal for years and years, and we hadn’t been together long enough for that lifetime habit to change. I couldn’t blame him for being who he was, just as I couldn’t blame him for deciding that he couldn’t live with what I was.