with him? I believed you’d always be brutally honest like that. I counted on it. Now—” I shook my head, my throat too tight to say anything else.
Grimness thinned his lips, but they stayed stubbornly closed.
Catching his wrists, I pulled his hands away. I was cracking open inside, breaking. “I won’t run this time, but you can push me away. You might want to think about that.”
I left. Gideon didn’t stop me.
* * *
I spent the rest of the afternoon focused on work. Mark loved to brainstorm out loud, which was an awesome learning exercise for me, and his confident and amiable way of dealing with his accounts was inspiring. I watched him breeze through two client meetings in which he conveyed an air of command that was both reassuring and nonthreatening.
Then we tackled a baby-toy company’s needs analysis, zeroing in on poor return expenditures as well as untapped avenues, such as mom-blog advertising. I was grateful that my job was a distraction from my personal life, and I was looking forward to going to my Krav Maga class later, so I could burn off some of my edgy restlessness.
It was just past four when my desk phone rang. I answered briskly and felt my heart leap at the sound of Gideon’s voice.
“We should leave at five,” he said, “to get to Dr. Petersen’s on time.”
“Oh.” I’d forgotten that our couples therapy sessions were on Thursdays at six P.M. It would be our first.
Abruptly, I wondered if it would also be our last.
“I’ll come get you,” he went on gruffly, “when it’s time.”
I sighed, feeling far from up to it. I was already raw and irritable from our fight earlier. “I’m sorry I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that. I hate that I did.”
“Angel.” Gideon exhaled harshly. “You didn’t ask the one question that matters.”
My eyes closed. It was irritating how he read my mind. “Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re keeping secrets.”
“Secrets are something we can work through; cheating isn’t.”
I rubbed at the ache behind my forehead. “You’re right about that.”
“There’s only you, Eva.” His voice was clipped and hard.
A tremor moved through me at the fury underlying his words. He was still angry that I’d doubted him. Oh well. I was still angry, too. “I’ll be ready at five.”
He was prompt, as usual. While I put my computer to sleep and grabbed my belongings, he spoke with Mark about the ongoing work on the Kingsman Vodka account. I watched Gideon furtively. He cut an imposing figure with his tall, leanly muscular frame in his dark suit and carried himself in a way that projected impenetrability, yet I’d seen him terribly vulnerable.
I was in love with that tender, deeply emotional man. And I resented the façade and his attempts to hide himself from me.
Turning his head, he caught me staring. I saw a glimpse of my beloved Gideon in his wild blue gaze, which briefly exposed a helpless yearning. Then he was gone, replaced by the cool mask. “Ready?”
It was so obvious that he was holding something back, and it killed me to have that gulf between us. To know there were things he wouldn’t trust me with.
As we exited through reception, Megumi rested her chin on her fist and gave a dramatic sigh.
“She’s crushing on you, Cross,” I murmured, as we made our way out and he hit the call button for the elevator.
“Whatever.” He snorted. “What does she know about me?”
“I’ve been asking myself that same question all day,” I said quietly.
That time, I was certain he winced.
* * *
Dr. Lyle Petersen was tall, with neatly groomed gray hair and sharp yet kind denim blue eyes. His office was tastefully decorated in neutral shades and his furniture was extremely comfortable, something I noted on every one of my visits to him. It was a little weird for me to see him as my therapist now. In the past, he’d met with me only as my mother’s daughter. He’d been my mom’s shrink for the
Grimness thinned his lips, but they stayed stubbornly closed.
Catching his wrists, I pulled his hands away. I was cracking open inside, breaking. “I won’t run this time, but you can push me away. You might want to think about that.”
I left. Gideon didn’t stop me.
* * *
I spent the rest of the afternoon focused on work. Mark loved to brainstorm out loud, which was an awesome learning exercise for me, and his confident and amiable way of dealing with his accounts was inspiring. I watched him breeze through two client meetings in which he conveyed an air of command that was both reassuring and nonthreatening.
Then we tackled a baby-toy company’s needs analysis, zeroing in on poor return expenditures as well as untapped avenues, such as mom-blog advertising. I was grateful that my job was a distraction from my personal life, and I was looking forward to going to my Krav Maga class later, so I could burn off some of my edgy restlessness.
It was just past four when my desk phone rang. I answered briskly and felt my heart leap at the sound of Gideon’s voice.
“We should leave at five,” he said, “to get to Dr. Petersen’s on time.”
“Oh.” I’d forgotten that our couples therapy sessions were on Thursdays at six P.M. It would be our first.
Abruptly, I wondered if it would also be our last.
“I’ll come get you,” he went on gruffly, “when it’s time.”
I sighed, feeling far from up to it. I was already raw and irritable from our fight earlier. “I’m sorry I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that. I hate that I did.”
“Angel.” Gideon exhaled harshly. “You didn’t ask the one question that matters.”
My eyes closed. It was irritating how he read my mind. “Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re keeping secrets.”
“Secrets are something we can work through; cheating isn’t.”
I rubbed at the ache behind my forehead. “You’re right about that.”
“There’s only you, Eva.” His voice was clipped and hard.
A tremor moved through me at the fury underlying his words. He was still angry that I’d doubted him. Oh well. I was still angry, too. “I’ll be ready at five.”
He was prompt, as usual. While I put my computer to sleep and grabbed my belongings, he spoke with Mark about the ongoing work on the Kingsman Vodka account. I watched Gideon furtively. He cut an imposing figure with his tall, leanly muscular frame in his dark suit and carried himself in a way that projected impenetrability, yet I’d seen him terribly vulnerable.
I was in love with that tender, deeply emotional man. And I resented the façade and his attempts to hide himself from me.
Turning his head, he caught me staring. I saw a glimpse of my beloved Gideon in his wild blue gaze, which briefly exposed a helpless yearning. Then he was gone, replaced by the cool mask. “Ready?”
It was so obvious that he was holding something back, and it killed me to have that gulf between us. To know there were things he wouldn’t trust me with.
As we exited through reception, Megumi rested her chin on her fist and gave a dramatic sigh.
“She’s crushing on you, Cross,” I murmured, as we made our way out and he hit the call button for the elevator.
“Whatever.” He snorted. “What does she know about me?”
“I’ve been asking myself that same question all day,” I said quietly.
That time, I was certain he winced.
* * *
Dr. Lyle Petersen was tall, with neatly groomed gray hair and sharp yet kind denim blue eyes. His office was tastefully decorated in neutral shades and his furniture was extremely comfortable, something I noted on every one of my visits to him. It was a little weird for me to see him as my therapist now. In the past, he’d met with me only as my mother’s daughter. He’d been my mom’s shrink for the
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