Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
SADIE
I woke up to a hot half-sweet almond milk matcha latte waiting for me on the kitchen counter and tried to pretend it didn’t make my heart go all gooey inside. Then, despite my protests, Gideon went with me to the nearest city of Ellsworth so I could buy what I needed.
“You’re leasing the place?” he asked when we were on the road.
“Not yet,” I hedged. “Your grandma is letting me use it to make Lola’s dress.”
He nodded, eyes on the road. He’d insisted on driving us in his car, reminding me that someone had made threats against me, and I’d only weakly protested.
Now I was ensconced in a car that smelled like him, aware of every shift of his body, being lulled by the smooth, easy way he drove, and I regretted my decision.
Every minute I spent with him made me like him more. It had to be some kind of self-destructive instinct in me. Why would I be so into someone who didn’t want me back?
“You thinking of restarting your business here?” Gideon asked a few minutes later. He glanced at me then back at the road. “Not really a huge market for wedding dresses here.”
“Not yet,” I said, laughing, which made his lips twitch. “But seriously, most trade is online these days. And I have this idea…” I shook my head.
“Tell me.”
Biting my bottom lip, I hesitated. My heart banged against my ribs.
Henry had had this look he would give me when he thought I was being stupid.
It was a condescending, pitying look that he’d cover up if I questioned it.
Once, I’d found a bridal show and wanted to prepare a small collection to attend the convention.
He’d systematically poked holes in my plan, asking me where I’d come up with the money to make the dresses, how I’d manage the risk of not selling anything, what I would do with the clients I already had, who were taking up all my time…
I ended up not going, and Henry patted me on the head and told me I’d made the right decision.
It wasn’t until a few months after our breakup that I got angry about it.
And this type of thing happened over and over and over again.
I started questioning myself about whether or not I was hungry, or tired, or horny.
He stripped away all my confidence to the point I didn’t know myself anymore.
So telling Gideon my ideas felt dangerous. He waited, and finally, I decided that I had to speak. After all, wasn’t he my sort-of husband? And if this marriage was going to work out, we’d need to have each other’s backs, even if we weren’t really husband and wife.
“I was thinking about The Pier,” I finally said. “It’s really nice. Like, surprisingly nice.”
Gideon hummed, nodding. We took an exit toward the city, and I watched the forests melt away to reveal more buildings. “Lots of wealthy folks have second homes up here,” he said, “away from the big cities.”
“Right.” Speaking quickly, I continued, “I thought maybe I could organize retreats. Or…I’ll come up with a name.
But basically, brides would come with their entourage, stay at The Pier or another nice hotel, and I’d have a couple of days with them to do designs, fittings, whatever.
They could visit the area—it’s so beautiful—and make a trip out of it. ”
Gideon’s brows jumped. I tensed, waiting for him to start poking holes in my idea. But when he spoke, he sounded genuinely curious. “You think people would go for that?”
“People spend crazy amounts of money on their weddings.”
That made him glance over. “Is that something you wanted?”
“To spend the equivalent of a house down payment on one event?” I asked, laughing.
He shrugged. “Yeah. The planning. All the little details. The—the romance.” He cleared his throat.
We pulled into the Walmart parking lot and he slid into a space. I stared at the big blue building and shrugged. “Once upon a time, maybe, yes. But by the time we got married, I was kind of just happy to get it over with.”
He looked at me then, and his expression was unreadable.
Maybe a little sad. Maybe even heartbroken.
For me? Or for himself? But he blinked, and I convinced myself I’d imagined it.
We went into the store, and I bought all the cleaning supplies I needed.
Then we went to the fabric store, and I got supplies for Lola’s dress.
We were back in Marswood Harbor by ten, and I went to work. Gideon set himself up at a table with a laptop while I cleaned, then disappeared to get us some sandwiches from the grocery store deli for lunch.
“You don’t have to stick around here,” I told him as we broke for lunch.
“Sadie,” he replied patiently, unwrapping his sandwich with methodical care. “Someone vandalized your car twice. And no, I’m not letting you stay here on your own as bait,” he added, giving me a dark look.
His protectiveness sent a shiver of delight through me. I got back to work cleaning and organizing the space, and Gideon did whatever he was doing on the laptop. As I cleaned the wall of shelves, I asked, “Any news on Mr. Titty?”
“He’s gone quiet. Or they’ve gone quiet,” he said. “Not a single new tag in the last couple of days.”
“That’s unusual,” I said, and Gideon grunted in response.
We worked some more. By three o’clock, I was drenched in sweat and in desperate need of a shower. We went back to the cottage, took our turns in the bathroom, and then I told Gideon about my date with Caroline at Bertie’s.
“All right,” he said, and went to get his shoes.
“You don’t have to come.”
“Twice,” he grumbled, and I knew he was talking about my vandalized car. A warm glow kindled in my chest, and I allowed him to drive me to the bar.
Bertie’s was pumping. It was about halfway between Life’s a Stitch and Rock Bottom, a block off of Main Street.
Lights spilled from the open door, and the sounds of a man shouting into a microphone were audible as soon as we got out of the car half a block away.
Then music started, and the hum of conversation and laughter added to the noise.
We stepped into a cozy room with wood pillars and matching paneling, a long bar to the right, and lots of high-top tables.
The edges of the room were lined with booths.
Caroline sat at a table by the tiny stage in the back corner with two other people. She spotted me immediately and waved, then scowled when she spotted Gideon behind me.
“Really?” she asked with an arched brow. “What, he wouldn’t let you out of the house on your own?”
“Actually no,” I said, laughing. “But he has a good reason.”
Caroline pointed a finger at Gideon. “I’m only allowing this because of the matcha. You understand that, right?”
I frowned. “The matcha?”
“Nothing,” Gideon grumbled. He nodded at the two other people at the table.
“This is Joanne and Ricky,” Caroline said, introducing me to her friends, who were bright-eyed with interest. “Guys, meet Sadie. She’s married to Gideon, but she’s okay.”
I laughed as I sat down in the stool Gideon pulled out for me, then watched him grab an unused one from beside the bar.
Instead of sitting to my left, he circled around and slid the stool on my right.
Then he angled his body so his scars faced the wall and his right side faced the table, legs bracketing my stool.
Always trying to hide himself. He moved stiffly, and I wondered if it was discomfort at being in public or just his back being sore from weeks of sleeping on a busted old couch.
My eyes narrowed and flicked between him and Caroline. “I want to know what that matcha comment meant.”
“He hasn’t told you, huh?” Caroline asked. “Typical.”
“What hasn’t he told me?” I was starting to get worried. I loved those matcha lattes. Was something wrong with them?
“It’s nothing,” Gideon said.
“It’s the only reason I’m allowing you to sit at this table,” Caroline proclaimed, “so you might as well tell her.”
“Nothing to tell,” Gideon replied.
Caroline looked down her nose at him, then turned to me. “He buys the matcha and the almond milk and the sugar syrup for your lattes. Bought the bowl and whisk and everything.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Loath as I am to admit it,” Caroline continued archly, putting her hand to her chest, “it’s nice. More than I would expect from a Mars.”
I looked at Gideon, who was busy staring at a spot on the wall behind me. “Gideon?”
His gaze slid down to meet mine. “What?”
“Is that true? You bought everything she needed to make my favorite drink?”
His jaw hardened. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” I answered, laughing unsteadily, which was a lie.
It was a huge problem. It was the most romantic, incredible, thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me.
It was wonderful. It made me want to jump into Gideon’s lap and kiss him until we both passed out from lack of air.
It made me want to bat my eyelashes and smile like a simpering fool, because I was dive-bombing into love with him.
He frowned at me. “It’s just a hot drink.”
I narrowed my eyes right back at him, then lifted my index finger and poked his chest. “You,” I said slowly, “like me.”
I could feel Caroline’s and her friends’ gazes prickling on the side of my face, and I didn’t care. All my attention was caught by the flash in Gideon’s blue eyes, the challenge in his arched brow. “I like you?”
“You like me!”
“Did you think he didn’t like you?” Caroline asked, sounding like I’d just admitted that I didn’t know grass was green.
“Yes, I thought he didn’t like me!” I cried, turning to stare at her.
“You thought I didn’t like you?” Gideon repeated, incredulous.
I felt like I was going cuckoo. “You deny it?”
“Of course I fucking deny it!”
“This is better than my favorite trash TV show,” Joanne muttered, and Caroline said, “Right?”
“I’m getting a drink. What do you want?” Gideon said, pushing himself to his feet and glaring at me. But I wasn’t offended. I was staring at him like I’d never seen him before. He arched his brows at me, waiting.