Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
SADIE
We didn’t try again. In fact, Gideon didn’t initiate sex with me at all. He refused to continue with the bait plan and instead parked one of his brothers with me whenever I wanted to go out. I tried not to spiral about him wanting to avoid me and mostly failed.
I kept working on Lola’s dress, because what else was I going to do? She’d still be going to homecoming, and making her dress was the only thing that felt good anymore.
Sunday lunch was the same as always, with a little more spiciness due to the Mr. Titty business.
Gideon loomed beside me, silent. Glenn, Connor, and Lola were chastened and reserved.
I suspected Bennett found the whole thing hilarious and was waiting for the minimum amount of time to pass so he could start cracking jokes about it.
I felt like an anthropologist observing a clan from the outside.
Always on the outside.
Day bled into day, and I felt the fraying of the threads that held us together.
When I kissed him, Gideon kissed me back, and we did have sex, but it didn’t feel the same.
He was holding back. Sometimes it seemed like he was afraid of hurting me, checking in a thousand times if I told him I wanted to try a finger or a toy.
But other times, I wondered if he’d realized what the future held if we were to stay together.
What never having penetrative sex really meant for him.
Maybe he just wasn’t that interested in me anymore.
Our sixth week of marriage started and plodded onward. On Friday, we would either decide to file the certificate or go our separate ways.
And I was still a coward, because I hadn’t been able to broach the subject with Gideon at all. The sick feeling in my gut got stronger with every passing hour, sure that this was as close as I’d ever get to a happily-ever-after of my own.
By Thursday morning, I woke up and wondered if I’d imagined everything. The unbearable ache in my heart was my only evidence that at one point, I’d thought Marswood Harbor was forever. I’d thought Gideon was forever.
If I stayed here, I’d have to take Etta’s investment offer. I couldn’t afford to reopen my business without her, and there weren’t exactly a ton of jobs in town.
But if she gave me money, I’d be beholden to her. If Gideon told her he was sick of me, she could ruin my life.
Gideon snored softly as I extricated myself from his hold. I’d tossed and turned for the first half of the night and didn’t feel particularly rested. Bleary, I pawed at the nightstand and found my phone. My vision cleared as I saw a notification on the screen that caught my interest.
It was from my nearly dead business email; an inquiry had come in from my website.
SUBJECT: Need three wedding dresses (URGENT)
Leaning on my elbow with my back to Gideon, I swiped at my phone and read the email.
My heart began to thrum. A big-name wedding coordinator had emailed me on behalf of one of her clients.
The bride’s dresses had been flown in from Paris and had been destroyed in shipping.
They were unrecoverable, and the original designers wouldn’t be able to get new ones made in time.
She was desperately contacting any designer local to Manhattan for replacements.
The amount of money she was offering was eye watering. Nearly triple what I would have charged for each dress…and she wanted three of them. It was enough money to lease Life’s a Stitch, give me some wiggle room to re-establish my brand online, and start over.
Without Etta.
Without strings.
With the most precious thing of all—options.
All at once, I realized what I wanted, and it wasn’t to slink away and lick my wounds. I wanted Gideon. I wanted to stay and fight for him, for us, because he was the love of my life.
And I wanted my business. The magic hadn’t gone out of weddings for me—it had been hidden beneath layers of insecurity and angst. I’d been so worried about myself, my marital status, and my failures that I’d forgotten what brought me joy.
I loved making women feel beautiful. I loved coming up with an idea and seeing it come to life on a dress form and then on a bride. I loved teary hugs and follow-up photos from my brides’ big days.
And maybe I could expand. Seeing Lola light up had been the first thing that had made me feel like I was part of this town. Like maybe I had a future here, as part of this family. I had Ida Gretzinger’s phone number, and I’d been working on that idea of a wedding dress retreat.
My business had failed once, but I could try again. I could lease the place, renovate it, and start over. The overheads would be a fraction of what they’d been before.
And if Etta refused to lease the space without the investment deal, I’d find some other space that she didn’t own. Because I’d have enough money to make it on my own!
This time, I wouldn’t be pursuing this business because it was a desperate attempt at fitting in with my family.
After all, hadn’t I found a new family? One who supported me instead of cutting me down.
Who protected me instead of judging me. A clan who rallied around me at the first sign of trouble.
I typed a quick answer. I was available and I would drop everything to make this bride three incredible dresses.
The wedding planner replied in an instant; she must have been under an immense amount of stress and tied to her phone.
She’d call me in a few hours when she was with the bride, and we’d go over the particulars.
“What is it?” Gideon’s voice was groggy with sleep.
I lay back on the pillows and looked at him, smiling. “I just got a request for three wedding dresses,” I told him, giddiness making me wiggle. “A rush job. Huge.”
The sleep cleared from his eyes. “In the city?”
I paused at the harshness of his tone. “Well, yes. I’d have to go and meet her, and if it’s a rush job, I’d probably have to use suppliers and seamstresses I already have relationships with.
And I’ll have to find somewhere to work.
Maybe a hotel, or I could see if I could get a short-term lease somewhere…
” I trailed off. When Gideon didn’t answer, I arched my brows. “Are you…mad?”
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m not mad. You need to do what you need to do,” he answered. His back shifted as he moved, one hand reaching over to massage the stiff scar tissue on his left shoulder. He didn’t turn to look at me.
“Gideon.”
“I get it,” he answered, standing.
“Gideon, stop. I’m not leaving. It’s just—it’s a huge job! It would be enough to restart my business.”
He grabbed a T-shirt from the back of the armchair in the corner and pulled it on. His head popped through, and he ran a hand through his hair. He still hadn’t met my eyes. “It’s good,” he said. “I’m happy for you.”
My chest went cold as he walked out the door. I listened to him moving in the kitchen—the clink of a mug, the gurgle of the coffee machine, the scrape of a pan against the gas-fired range—and I fought against the panic that tried to build inside me.
This was his way out. Out of this marriage. Out of the contract that his grandmother had blackmailed him into. Now he could cut me loose and not feel bad about it, because I wouldn’t be homeless and destitute. This client would give me a cushion.
If he wanted me to stay, he’d tell me. But he just…
walked away. He was icing me out. Taking his chance to dissolve this marriage that was more of an inconvenience to him than anything.
Had he ever really wanted me? Or had this just been a distraction to him?
After that awful night, had he realized we had no future?
It was so familiar I started to laugh. Yes, putting his dick in my vagina was that big a deal.
How had I believed it wasn’t? How had I believed all his lovey-dovey words about just loving to make me orgasm?
No one loved to make me orgasm! That wasn’t the way sex worked.
That wasn’t the way relationships worked!
I had nothing to offer him, and now he was done.
Throat tight, I closed my eyes. I was so sick of feeling insecure. But how could I help it, when I was hit with rejection every time I thought I found The One?
On soft feet, I padded to the kitchen. The toaster popped, and Gideon slid a buttered piece of toast and a mug of coffee toward me, then turned his back on me to fix his own breakfast. There was a huge lump in my throat, and I stared at the mug without seeing anything.
“When do you leave?” Gideon finally asked, and he turned to look at me. His expression was stony, his eyes cold.
I flinched. “I haven’t—I need to call the wedding coordinator and get more details.”
He nodded. “It’s probably the logical thing to do. We still don’t know who keyed your car and spray-painted the cottage. If you leave, the threats will stop.”
“Gideon, I’m not—” I frowned. “I’m not leaving. Unless…that’s what you want?” My voice squeaked on the question.
My husband’s expression didn’t change. Could I even call him my husband?
We’d had a sham of a wedding ceremony, and the wedding certificate was stashed away in Etta Mars’s home.
It wasn’t real. Gideon had never actually wanted to file the certificate.
He was just running out the clock so he could keep his business and his bachelorhood.
Gideon finally shrugged. “You need to do what’s best for you, Sadie. I’m not going to stop you.”
I stared at him, blinking. “What does that mean, exactly?”
His phone chimed. We both glanced at where it lay on the countertop, and Gideon reached over to grab it. Because of course he did. I mattered so little to him that he would use any excuse to get out of this conversation—out of my life.
Then he straightened, frowning, so I asked, “What is it?”
“Ida Gretzinger just texted,” he replied. “Two people booked into a room at The Pier last night, and this morning they’ve been asking about you. She said they just ordered breakfast so if we head over now, we can probably catch them before they leave.”
I didn’t want to go see who had come looking for me. I wanted to stay right here and talk to Gideon until we figured this out.
But what was there to figure out?
I’d known the truth that night last week, when my body had failed me once again: It had been the beginning of the end.
As soon as my body malfunctioned, the clock started ticking.
It had taken three and a half years for Henry to pull the plug, but Gideon would be much more efficient. We were already over.
The pain was so huge that I went numb.
Five minutes later, we had our teeth brushed, our clothes on, and we were out the door. Gideon took the stairs two at a time as I hurried to catch up. He barely let me get my seatbelt on before accelerating out of his parking spot and turning in the direction of The Pier.
“You don’t have to go to this trouble,” I said, my casual tone a shock even to my ears. “I know my being here has been a huge inconvenience.”
He didn’t deny it. Instead he explained, “They threatened and vandalized you while you were in my town. I’m not going to let that slide.”
I was surprised that I could actually feel worse than I had a few seconds earlier, and it was because of six little words in his sentence: While you were in my town.
Would he care if I was threatened again when I left?
I stared out the window, already knowing the answer to that question. It hardly sounded like he cared about me at all. He was just angry that someone had dared challenge him in the town that bore his family name.
GIDEON
My knuckles were white on the steering wheel. I was a fool for thinking she’d stay. Sadie had been desperate when she’d signed up to marry me, and she was taking the first lifeline tossed her way. She couldn’t wait to get out, to get away from me.
Ice formed over my heart and spread to every inch of my body, muffling the world around me. I never should’ve let her in. I only had myself to blame.