5. Ellie
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Ellie
The fucking audacity of this man. I wanted to fucking throttle him.
“This is my boss,” I snapped, stepping out from behind the counter so I could plant myself between Gideon and Danny. “And my friend. I don’t cheat.”
I heard the edge in my tone, the accusation wrapped around the denial, as soon as the words left my mouth.
Gideon did too.
His head whipped toward me. His eyes narrowed, going from shocked to ice-cold in a heartbeat. “I’ve never cheated on you,” he bit out. “It’s never even occurred to me.”
I snorted because the alternative was letting my voice shake.
“Sure. With all the women your mother parades in front of you? The board members’ daughters, the socialites,” I broke off, flinging a hand toward the door.
“The half-naked women I sometimes come home to lounging by our pool? Forgive me if I have doubts.”
His jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle ticking. “I was never there when that happened, and you know it.”
He was right, and that annoyed me more.
I’d never actually seen him in a compromising position.
Not once, except for that conversation on the terrace with Meredith.
But his mother’s constant parade of women - the way they looked at him like he was the main course and I was the garnish - had sunk under my skin until I couldn’t tell the difference between jealousy and fear.
I hadn’t even realized how much of a grip it had on me until just now.
Behind him, Danny cleared his throat. “Ellie, you want me to… call someone?” he asked carefully, eyes flicking to Gideon’s rumpled T-shirt and haunted expression. “The police?”
“I would never hurt her,” Gideon growled.
“It’s fine,” I said quickly before testosterone could start bouncing off the pastel walls and knock something over. “Really. I’m fine. I’ll be back for my next shift.” I glanced at the calendar tacked to the wall. “Two days.”
“The hell you will,” Gideon said under his breath.
I rounded on him. “Excuse me?”
He ignored me and turned to Danny instead, that CEO steel sliding into his posture like armor. “She quits,” he said flatly, reaching over and plucking the stupid pink baseball cap off my head. “Effective immediately.”
Heat rushed up my neck. “Put that back.” I grabbed for it, but he lifted it just out of reach like I was a child and he was confiscating a toy.
Danny’s brows shot up. “You don’t get to fire my employee in my own shop, man.”
“She’s my wife,” Gideon shot back. “And she’s not working here anymore.”
“Your wife says she’s back in two days,” Danny replied, folding his arms. His tone was mild, but there was a warning in it. “So unless she tells me otherwise, that’s what I’m going with.”
Gideon opened his mouth, but I stepped into his line of sight, forcing him to look at me.
“You just said that I could stay here and live the life I wanted,” I reminded him quietly. “Remember?”
Shame flickered in Gideon’s eyes, but before he could respond, Danny tilted his head. “You sure you’re okay, Ellie?”
I nodded. “I’m sure. No cops. No drama. Just… a lot of talking that needs to happen.”
Danny studied me for another second, then gave a short nod. “All right. I’m around if you need me.”
With that, I grabbed my bag from under the counter and headed for the door. I didn’t have to look back to know Gideon followed; I could feel his presence at my back, making the air around us heavy.
Rain immediately drenched me, but I didn’t stop. I barely even noticed it.
“Ellie, let me call you an Uber!” Gideon shouted as he joined me. “You can’t walk home in this.”
The only rideshare in town was Hamish, and he was scared of driving in the rain, but I didn’t tell him that. I didn’t say anything. The shop wasn’t far from the apartment.
“Fine. Let’s walk.”
Again, I didn’t respond. What had started out as a fabulous day was falling apart, and damn it, I forgot to pee before I left. The sound of the rain wasn’t helping.
We turned onto my street: a narrow strip of cracked pavement lined with leaning trees and mismatched mailboxes. The little brick building I was renting in loomed at the end, its paint faded, flower boxes overflowing with a riot of petunias courtesy of my neighbor.
I heard him suck in a breath beside me, as if he couldn’t believe I was actually living here.
“This is it?” he asked.
“This is it,” I echoed, climbing the chipped concrete steps. “If you won’t go home, then maybe you can get a room at the bed and breakfast on the other side of town. Although it’ll be a far cry from the penthouse.”
I didn’t bother casting a look back as I yanked open the door and stepped in. Water dripped from my hair and clothes.
The stairwell smelled faintly of old carpet shampoo. My hand trailed along the rickety wooden banister as I climbed. Gideon’s footsteps fell heavily behind me, and I rolled my eyes. By the time we reached my floor, I could feel his frustration simmering off him in waves.
“Ellie,” he said when I unlocked my door.
I pushed it open and stepped inside, ignoring the way the tiny studio seemed to shrink around him when he followed.
My whole life here was visible at a glance: the small couch against one wall, the tiny kitchenette with its mismatched dishes, the narrow bed tucked under the window, the single potted plant valiantly trying not to die.
With him in the middle of it, broad shoulders nearly spanning the width of the room, it suddenly looked like a dollhouse.
“Charming,” he said slowly.
I snorted. “Careful. That almost sounded sincere. What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, and the raw honesty in his voice startled me. “I don’t know what to do here, Ellie. I don’t know how to fix this.”
I pressed my lips together and looked away because if I looked at him too long like this - rumpled and out of his depth in my little world - it might hurt in ways I didn’t have the strength for.
“You can start by going home,” I said. “We can talk on the phone. Like normal people. Long-distance couples exist, you know.”
“I’m not leaving.”
I sighed. “Gideon.”
He moved to the couch and dropped onto it with stubborn finality, sinking deeper than the cheap cushions were probably rated for.
“I said I’m not leaving,” he repeated. “You can kick me out of your bed. You can kick me out of your life if that’s what you decide.
But I’m not getting in a car tonight and pretending everything’s fine again. ”
I studied him, trying to reconcile this man with the one who used to disappear into his office for days at a time, emerging only for board meetings and the occasional obligatory dinner.
“Suit yourself,” I muttered. “I’m taking a shower.”
I half-expected him to argue, to follow me, to insist on talking more right now, but he stayed put.
Or at least, I assumed he did. The bathroom fan whirred loudly enough to cover any movement from the living room, and the hot water beat against my tense shoulders until my muscles finally started to unknot.
By the time I emerged in clean leggings and an oversized T-shirt, hair twisted up in a towel, the apartment smelled like him. He was exactly where I’d left him: on the couch, soaking wet, watching me.
Always watching.
“You hungry?” I asked because ignoring him entirely felt impossible.
His gaze swept over me once, lingering for a fraction of a second on the swell of my stomach before snapping back to my face. “Are you?”
The baby chose that moment to give a solid thump against my ribs.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Then I’m hungry,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at my mouth as I moved into the little kitchen. I’d gotten good at throwing together simple meals - pasta, stir-fries, grilled cheese. Things that didn’t drain my bank account or my energy.
Tonight was pasta. Jarred sauce. Bagged salad. Nothing that belonged in his world of private chefs and tasting menus.
He took up a spot at the tiny table, elbows on his knees, eyes tracking every motion I made like I was performing surgery instead of boiling water.
“This is unnerving,” I said without turning around.
“What is?”
“You staring at me like I’m going to sprout a second head.”
My hands stilled for half a second before I forced myself to keep moving. I brought two plates to the table and sat opposite him.
We ate in a silence that wasn’t quite comfortable but wasn’t suffocating either.
“How far is the hospital?”
“Twenty minutes by bus. Ten if someone gives me a ride.”
“You have a doctor?”
“I’m pregnant, not reckless,” I said dryly. “Yes, I have a doctor. I’m taking good care of the baby, Gideon. Prenatals, appointments, the whole boring checklist. You don’t have to worry.”
“I do, though,” he said softly.
By the time we’d both pushed our plates away, the apartment felt smaller than ever. Or maybe it was just the fact that there was nowhere left to hide from each other.
I leaned back in my chair, watching him as he took in the chipped counters, the too-thin curtains, the stack of library books on the floor.
He looked at the couch like it offended him less now. “I’ll sleep there.”
“No,” I said.
“Yes.”
I pushed away from the table and stood, pacing the few steps available to me.
“Gideon, you can’t just move into my apartment and act like this is normal.
You have a company to run. A mother to fight with.
Board members to impress. You were barely home when I lived with you.
I have no idea how you think you’re going to handle existing in a place where the fanciest entertainment is bingo at the community center. ”
His lips twitched, but his eyes stayed serious. “I’ll manage.”
“This isn’t some test you have to pass,” I said, suddenly exhausted.
“I’m not making you walk over hot coals to prove your love.
I spent eight weeks convincing myself you were relieved I left,” I whispered.
“That you were sitting in your office right now, thanking your mother for finally driving me away so you could marry someone ‘appropriate.’ I’m not ready for you to camp on my fucking couch. ”
“You thought I’d be relieved,” he said slowly, as if tasting the idea for the first time. “That you were gone.”
“Yes.” My throat felt tight. “Why wouldn’t you be? You always seemed… tired of us. Tired of me not fitting in.”
He closed his eyes briefly, as if the words physically hurt him. “I’ve done a lot of things wrong. Too many to list. But being relieved you left? That will never be one of them.”
Before I could respond, he opened the door and stepped into the hall, pulling it shut behind him with a soft click.
The apartment hummed with sudden silence.
Just the soft hum of the refrigerator, the flicker of the television, and the steady, stubborn beating of my own heart, caught somewhere between the girl who had fallen in love with a billionaire and the woman who had finally learned how to stand alone.