CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
After a particularly difficult shoot, the last thing I need on a Friday evening is a hard, bony head nudging between my legs. But that’s exactly what I’m getting.
I yelp and glance down to see Uno’s long nose poking out from between my legs. He’d snuck up behind me.
“Hey,” I call to Gideon as I extricate myself from Uno, “you might want to teach your dog better manners.”
Gideon smiles as he crosses the living room to me. “He only greets his favorite people this way.”
“It seems a little presumptuous,” I say, even as I rub Uno’s soft, silky ears.
“Just like his owner,” he murmurs. His palms slide into my hair, and he dips his head and kisses me. Slowly. Thoroughly. Deeply.
I sigh happily. “A perfect conclusion to a crappy day.”
“Difficult client?”
“So difficult. She kept changing her mind and we ended up finishing hours later than planned.”
We move to the kitchen and my heart does a little flipflop when I spot the glass of wine waiting for me on the counter and the pot of creamy mushroom pasta Gideon’s cooked.
I shoot him a grateful smile. “You spoil me.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “You deserve to be spoiled.”
After dinner, we cuddle on his couch, my head propped on his shoulder. He’s playing idly with my hair. There’s a movie playing quietly on the screen, but we’re not paying attention.
“Why don’t you have any personal photos?” I ask him.
“I don’t like clutter.”
“I’d love to see a picture of your mom.”
“I have a photo of her in my wallet.”
He retrieves his wallet and pulls out a small passport-sized photo of a smiling woman with kind hazel eyes and blonde hair.
“You have her coloring,” I tell him.
His throat works as he swallows. “Yeah.”
I squeeze his hand. “What about a photo of you without your beard?”
“You won’t recognize me. I look too baby-faced.”
“Now I’m intrigued to see a baby-faced Gideon.”
He smiles, but it’s strangely tense. “Kate,” he begins. “I need to tell you something.”
I sit up, taking in his grim expression, sensing the sudden change in the air. I swallow against my rising apprehension. “Is it something that will upset me?”
“Probably.”
My stomach twists in dread. I suspect Gideon’s about to tear a hole in our protected bubble and I’m not ready for it. “Then I don’t want to hear it.”
“Kate—”
“Are you secretly married?”
Horror fills his face. “No.”
“Do you have some fatal disease?”
“Not that I know of.”
Despite the warm summer evening, I feel strangely cold. My hands twist together in my lap. I have to wait a beat before my next question. “Are you planning on leaving me?”
His eyes don’t move from mine. “Not a chance.”
Something inside me settles. I know there’s still a vast swath of quicksand topics out there, but it feels as though I’ve covered most of my overriding concerns. “Is whatever you have to tell me something to do with your work?”
“Yes,” he says after an odd moment of hesitation.
“Is it anything illegal?”
“No.”
“I don’t want to know.”
He releases a ragged sigh. “Kate—”
I place a hand lightly on his chest. “Gideon, I’m really happy right now. I haven’t been this happy in a long time and I don’t want anything to spoil it. Yes, I might be burying my head in the sand but let it remain buried for just a little while longer,” I plead, acutely aware I’m now adding coward to my long list of labels.
The moment stretches out. His brows knit, conflict etched on his face. “I really—”
“You can tell me eventually, but please, not right now.”
He still seems torn, so I distract him the only way I know how. I seal my mouth over his and kiss him senseless until we lose ourselves in each other.
I’m ripping a page from my sister’s book and living in the moment, clinging to this kernel of happiness for as long as I can. We’ll face whatever Gideon wants to tell me another day.
Four days before Lisset is due to come home, we’re watching a romantic movie with Ryan Gosling. Halfway through the movie, Gideon snags the nail polish I’ve left on the coffee table and insists on painting my toenails.
“I was going to do it,” I protest, laughing, trying to snatch back the polish he’s holding above his head.
“I want to do it.”
“Why?”
“Because it feels like something Ryan Gosling would do and I have to compete with the master.”
With a laugh, I relent. “If you insist.”
“I do.” He pats his lap. I stretch out and place both feet on his thighs, as requested.
Gideon dips the brush into the polish and slowly and carefully glides the brush down from the bed to the tip of my nail, avoiding the cuticle line. He holds my foot in place with his thumb pressing into my arch. The slow sweep of the brush, his meticulous attention to detail, his thumb occasionally stroking my sensitive skin has sparks flying from my nerve endings.
The fact that I have to keep still the entire time makes it almost unbearable. I’m biting my lip and trying not to wriggle. The small smile playing on his lips tells me he knows exactly the effect he is having on me.
Suffice it to say, Gideon painting my toenails is a singularly erotic experience.
When he’s finished, I lean over and nip his bottom lip. “That’s payback for pure torture.”
His laugh is husky, his eyes dark and tinged with longing. “Good,” he says, his voice gravelly. “I want to unravel you and put you back together. I want to hear the sounds you make when you let go and fall apart. And I want to fall asleep with you in my arms every night.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Gideon...” I trail off helplessly.
“I want your heart, Kate,” he says softly.
I swallow. “You have my heart.”
He gives a small shake of his head. “I have a small, stingy piece of it.”
My silence lends the weight of truth to his words.
He scrubs a hand over his face. For a second, I think he might not push the matter, he might spare us both. But his jaw sets and his eyes are resolute as they meet mine. My throat stings at his expression. I know what’s coming.
“I love you,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “I love you so much it hurts. I want us to be a family. You, Lisset, and me.”
His declaration causes a hitch in my breath. For a single, sublime moment, I allow his words to enfold me in their warmth and light. But reality rears its ugly, intrusive head between us. “I thought Oliver would love me forever. That’s what he swore in his marriage vows. To love me until death do us part.”
Hurt and a hint of resentment flash across his face. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not your ex-husband?”
I take both of his hands in mine. “I know that. At least my head knows that. But my heart...” I bite my lip hard enough to hurt. “I’m scared, Gideon,” I whisper. “I loved Oliver and that gave him power to almost destroy me. I don’t know if I can give that much power to a man again.”
His gaze is level. “Don’t you realize you also hold power in this relationship? You are so afraid of being hurt, but you have no idea of the power you hold over me.” Vulnerability bleeds from his voice. “I’m scared too.”
Surprise steals through me. “What are you scared of?”
He goes silent for a few seconds. “I’m scared you won’t take a chance on us. I’m scared you’ll break my heart. And I’m terrified you won’t forgive me when I mess up. But my fear is not going to prevent me from loving you.”
He loves me .
I let go of him to press a hand to my throat. I desperately want to say those words back to him, to tell him how I feel, but the words are all locked up in my throat and I can’t find the key to let them out.
“I don’t want to lose you,” are the words that finally spill out of me. They feel lacking and inadequate, and I’m a little ashamed of them, but they’re all I feel capable of giving him at present.
Gideon’s shoulders deflate, but he makes an effort to smile at me. I instantly wish he didn’t. It’s somehow worse to observe a smile that in no way touches his eyes.
“I’d fight the world for you, Kate,” he says, his voice quiet. “I’d fight every single person, but there’s one person I can’t fight, one person who’d defeat me every time. That person is you. The part of you too scared to fall in love with me.”