CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
On the last weekend of summer, my family heads to the lake for the day. We drive there in two cars. My parents travel with Aaron and Tess, while Grandma comes in our car, on the condition that Google remains behind.
At the lake, Grandma settles into her deluxe camping chair with a flask of iced tea and a racy romance book that has her giggling and fanning herself. My mom keeps eyeing her suspiciously and I’m starting to wonder if my grandmother slipped a little something stronger into her flask.
Gideon, Aaron, and my dad immediately set about teaching Lisset to fish. It doesn’t take her long to catch one. She insists on releasing it, but she’s so freaked out by the fish’s eyes staring at her while my dad tries to pull the hook out of its mouth, that she declares she’ll never ever fish again.
Watching Gideon help my mom stack the enormous amount of food onto the picnic tables, I feel a wave of warmth seeing how well he fits in with my family. Much to Aaron’s relief, Gideon helps Grandma with all Google-related problems and joins my dad in the TV room whenever he’s watching his World War Two documentaries, much to my mom’s relief. I’ve also invited him to every Sunday lunch with my family since I excluded him that one time earlier this summer. I still feel a spike of shame every time I remember how hurt he had been.
We haven’t had a game night yet. Aaron insists that will be the true test of Gideon’s staying power. I’m not worried. Gideon seems determined to stick around.
Lisset dips her feet into the lake and shrieks when she realizes how cold the water is. Gideon jumps at her shriek, alert for any sign of danger. I laugh and Tess tries to explain to him that kids shriek all the time and he simply has to get used to it, but Gideon can’t seem to help himself. His poor heart. He’ll need to be carried out on a stretcher by the end of today.
Lisset has happily accepted Gideon into our lives with no questions or resentment. She knows Gideon as Mommy’s Special Friend who comes around often. And who sometimes makes Mommy’s face red.
After lunch, Gideon and I sit on the dock wrapped in a comfortable silence with my head resting on his shoulder. My skin is sticky with sunscreen, my hair curls around my face, and my olive skin is brown from the summer. I can’t remember when last I was this content. The world beyond this day seems muted and dim. I wish we could stay in this pocket of time forever. The sky a bright, hopeful blue above us. The lake water sparkling in the sun. Laughter echoing in the warm air. Easy conversations meandering unhurriedly down their own paths. My mom and dad playing cards on a rickety camping table and smiling softly at one another.
All this love surrounding me.
All too soon, it’s time to pack up and head home. Ten minutes into the drive, Lisset and Grandma are fast asleep in the back seat, snoring lightly. Behind the wheel, Gideon rotates his shoulders to ease some of the tightness.
“I had the best time today,” I admit.
He reaches across the center console and twines his fingers with mine, the gesture easy and intimate. “So did I.”
“Our last summer outing. I wish we could have stayed there forever.”
“So do I. I guess all good things come to an end eventually though.” He glances over at me, shooting me an eye-crinkling smile that takes my breath away. “I love you,” he says.
Those words falling so freely and effortlessly from his lips, with no demand on me to return the sentiment, cause something to loosen in my chest. The cold, hard shell of mistrust that has encased my heart for so long is disintegrating, the pieces washing away in the flood of emotion sweeping through me.
A surreal feeling ripples over me. Gideon is both new and familiar to me all at the same time. As if I’ve known him forever and yet I’ve only now discovered him. Everything that was all jumbled inside me suddenly becomes crystal clear. I realize it’s not only being loved that fills my soul. It’s loving someone as well.
And I love Gideon Walker.
My anchor. My lighthouse. My life raft. My compass.
Overused clichés to everyone else but me. Because I feel the truth of all those sentiments when I look at him.
Yes, I’m scared, but all the more reason in this beautiful, broken world to cling to those you love. In them, you find fragments of beauty and kindness and grace to carry you through those endlessly dark nights.
I love him.
I had the key all along to the words locked inside my throat. I simply needed to use it. No more being cowardly. No more missed chances.
“I love you,” I say to him.
He goes perfectly still. And quiet. Like he’s absorbing the impact of those words.
“Say it again,” he demands. “Please.”
“I love you.” My voice is firm and clear, laced with wonder. “I love you, I love you.”
He squeezes my hand, his jaw flexing. “I can’t believe you decide to tell me that when I’m driving, when all I want to do is haul you in my arms and kiss the heck out of you.”
“It felt like the right moment,” I tell him.
“I’ll take it, because you’ve made me a very happy man.”
And then Grandma pipes up from the back seat, “Just pull over, why don’t you, and kiss the heck out of her. I’m in no hurry to get home.”
Three weeks later, the weather feels restless, no longer straddling the line between summer and fall. Instead, it’s tipping more toward fall weather today, with a sharp chill to the air that hints at rain later on.
After dropping Lisset off at school, I decide to drop by Gideon’s house for a cup of coffee since I have no shoots scheduled for today.
Gideon pulls me into his arms the moment I step inside, Uno dancing excitedly around us. “I’m starting to suspect you’re using me for my coffee,” he murmurs against my lips.
“You caught me,” I acknowledge, breathing in the scent of him. “It’s your coffee machine that’s captured my heart.”
“Addict.”
“Addicted to you.” I kiss him lightly, before swatting him on the butt. “Now go show me its magic.”
While Gideon brews coffee, I browse his bookcase in the living room, running my fingers along some of the titles, admiring his eclectic taste in books.
I’m about to turn away when something catches my eye. The corner of a photograph tucked away between two books, as if inserted there and then carelessly forgotten.
It’s none of my business. At least that’s what I try to tell myself.
“Hey, you want a muffin with your coffee?” Gideon calls from the kitchen.
“Yes, please,” I answer absently, my attention still focused on the bookcase.
“I think I have some in the pantry.”
He disappears into his walk-in pantry, which is practically a small room and an area I’m itching to transform. I keep hinting to Gideon that he should leave me there for a day with a ridiculous number of glass containers and a label printer and watch me work my magic with that space. His response is always to insist he can think of more meaningful ways for me to spend my time and energy.
I return my attention to the photograph. I really shouldn’t look, it’s an invasion of Gideon’s privacy, but the tug of curiosity is too strong. Ignoring the dart of guilt, I grip the edge of the photo and carefully pull it out.
It looks like one of those stiff company photographs where everyone is encouraged to smile and look directly at the camera.
My gaze casually sweeps over the people in the photo and everything in me goes still.
My ex-husband is in that photo.
And standing next to him, with the crooked smile that’s carved a rough pilgrimage into my heart, is the man I know as Gideon Walker.