CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I’m struggling to catch my breath. A sick, hollow feeling settles in my stomach.
No , no , no .
There must be a logical explanation. There has to be. Only I can’t think of one. All I have is a rising tide of questions.
Why does Gideon have a photo of my ex-husband in his home? How does he know Oliver? And why has he never mentioned the connection to me before?
I have the awful, sinking sensation I’m teetering on the edge of an abyss. And this time around, Gideon is not protecting me from falling into the darkness of it. In truth, I have the terrible feeling he’s now the one who will push me into that void.
“Which muffin do you prefer? Chocolate chip or blueberry?” Gideon asks as he emerges from the pantry holding two containers. He sees me standing there, gripping the photo, and stops dead in his tracks.
“Why are you in a photograph with Oliver?” I ask, my head spinning, confusion gnawing away at me.
Tension tightens his shoulders. He slowly and carefully places the containers on the kitchen counter. He doesn’t answer me, and I can’t read his face.
My body is trembling. “Do you know Oliver?”
In the silence that follows, he looks like he’s preparing himself for whatever is coming. On a defeated exhale, he admits, “Yes.”
One word. One word that knocks the air right out of my lungs.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper.
His hands clench at his sides. “I wish you hadn’t found out this way,” he says in a low voice.
A bleak silence stretches between us. I grasp the back of the couch to stay upright.
He knows Oliver.
I’m dizzy, thinking back to our conversations, thinking back to everything he told me. Is any of it true? Or is it all a pack of lies? Lies I fell for.
The voice inside me that’s been quiet for so long flickers to life. Stupid, gullible, unsuspecting Kate, it whispers, who didn’t learn from her first mistake and entrusted her heart to a man again. Who dared to hope for a happy ending.
What’s that saying? Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me . Right now, I’m choking on my shame.
I take in an unsteady breath and ask the terrible question that’s front and center in my mind. “Did Oliver hire you to spy on me?”
He looks appalled. “No.”
“Are you in contact with him?”
“No, I’m not,” he answers quickly. “I promise I’m not.”
“Don’t,” I snap. “Don’t you dare promise anything right now.”
Tension radiates from his body. His eyes track my every movement and expression. “Give me a chance to explain. Please.”
I’m not sure I want to hear his explanation. Will it be more of the same half-truths he’s been feeding me? And why should I believe anything he says now? He’s been caught. He has no choice but to explain. Maybe this would be a whole different scenario if he’d come clean first.
“Wait,” I say, my tone clipped. “Just wait.”
I can’t sit here passively while he dishes up more stories for me to consume. He’s been in charge for too long. From now on, I’m the one asking the questions.
“How do you know Oliver?”
“We worked together.”
“At DesignPlan?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you move to Brown Oaks?”
He’s silent.
“Was it because of me?”
“Kate, please—”
“Yes or no.”
A tense pause. “Yes.”
My heart is hammering. I suddenly remember Janine telling me how much Gideon paid for his house, way above market value. “Did you buy this house because it was opposite mine?”
He briefly closes his eyes. “Yes.”
My chest constricts. “And volunteering at Lisset’s school? Was that also a setup?”
“No,” he says firmly. “The Reading Dog Program linked me up to the school. I had no idea Lisset was a student there.”
“Is Gideon even your real name?”
He waits a beat too long. “No.”
“What is your name?”
“Garrett.” He exhales tiredly. “Gideon is a name I made up.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Out of everything that’s broken my heart into a thousand pieces in the last few minutes, this hurts the most. The name I love, just like the man I thought I loved, is a lie. Everything about him is a lie.
My shock and disillusionment give way to rage. Before I’m even aware of what I’m doing, I’m flying across the room at him, pummeling his chest with my fists. I’m not entirely sure what I’m screaming. I think it’s “How could you?” over and over again, but I don’t know. I only know I want to hurt him like he’s hurt me. I want to give him a taste of what it’s like to have your hopes crushed and your heart fractured all over again.
He makes no attempt to defend himself. He keeps his arms at his sides and only braces his body against my assault. It’s ugly, but then everything about this situation is ugly. The woman beating him on the chest with tears streaming down her face is a woman I don’t recognize. Then again, I no longer recognize the man either, so I guess we’re even.
A modicum of sanity finally seeps into me and I realize what I’m doing. Remorse engulfs me. Look at me, resorting to physical violence after everything I’ve been through.
Abruptly, my legs give out and I collapse against him. His arms wrap around me and he holds me. I’m so shattered and broken I let him.
“I’m sorry, Kate,” he whispers into my hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“How could you do this to us? To me? To Lisset?” I ask through my tears. “I don’t understand. Was this some sort of game to you?”
Despair fills his face. “I swear on my life, it was never a game.” His voice is hoarse, pleading. “I kept wanting to tell you the truth, but the timing wasn’t right.”
Timing . As if that’s the issue here. The enormity of his deception is starting to hit me. It feels as though I’m standing at the foot of a snow-covered mountain and watching the avalanche approach, watching it gather momentum and become bigger and bigger as it hurtles toward me.
“From the first day I met you, I had a feeling you would hurt me,” I whisper, not caring what power I’m giving him with those words. Pride seems like a vague, abstract concept right now. The only thing that feels real and concrete in this moment is pain.
“Kate, listen to me, please,” Gideon begs. “I love you and I love Lisset.”
My skin feels bruised all over. I don’t know why he’s not gloating. I expect him to be celebrating the fact that he played us so well. Instead, his shoulders are bowed and there are tears in his eyes. I harden my heart against them. He’s upset he got caught, that’s all.
Every cell in my body is suddenly desperate to get as far away from him as I possibly can. Away from the anguished look on his handsome, deceiving face. Away from whatever more lies he’s planning to spin.
I push away from him and stumble toward his front door.
“Kate, wait!”
I ignore the urgency in his voice, and I flee from all the broken promises that drench this space.
He lets me go.
I lock myself in my house and turn off my phone. Then I curl up on my bed and allow myself to fall apart.
A kaleidoscope of our time together whirls through my head. The first time I saw Gideon in the library and the immediate pull of attraction I felt. Sitting on the porch with him and talking in the dark. Gideon patiently encouraging Lisset to read. Our hilarious date at the food museum. Gideon ironing my clothes while I slept on the couch. His rescue of Lisset’s birthday party. The thrilling moment when our lips met for the first time.
But then I retrace other memories. He bought a house directly across from us so he could have a clear view of our comings and goings. He frequented our favorite coffee shop and walked his dog around the neighborhood to increase his chances of bumping into us. He volunteered at Lisset’s school, as well as the library we often visited.
He made it almost impossible to avoid him.
My mind rolls back to fragmented pieces of our conversations where Gideon seemed to know so much about me. What did Oliver tell him? How close were the two of them?
A sob bursts out of me. Gideon has broken my trust in the worst possible way. I’m crying so hard I’m having trouble thinking straight, but I suddenly remember that Oliver at one point did mention a Garrett at work. I vaguely recall him speaking admiringly—or was it enviously?—of Garrett, saying how clever the man was, but the details are fuzzy. I know I never met Gideon/Garrett at any of the company functions or work Christmas parties.
I wrap my arms around my midsection in an attempt to contain the pain. Abruptly, I’m angry with my family. Tess, my mom, my grandmother. All of them. They encouraged me to take a chance on Gideon, their faces shining with hope that he was the one. Why didn’t they leave me alone? Why did they think they knew what was best for me?
The pain spreads, the sheer force of it dragging me under. I’m forced to acknowledge that it’s not them I’m angry with. No, the person I’m most angry with right now is me. For trusting Gideon. For believing he was different.
It turns out, he’s a liar. And I’m a fool.