Day, Sylvia - Entwined with You - A Crossfire Novel (Crossfire Book 3)

“Because they’re not together?”

“Yes, but not because I want one big happy family,” I qualified. “I just hate the thought of going through life without the person you’re in love with. When I lost you—”

“You’ve never lost me.”

“It was like part of me died. Going through a whole lifetime like that …”

“Would be hell.” Gideon ran his fingertips across my cheek and I saw the bleakness in his eyes, the lingering specter of Nathan haunting him. “Let me handle Monica.”

I blinked at him. “How?”

His lips curled on one side. “I’ll call her and ask how you’re dealing with everything and how you’re doing. Start the process of publicly working my way back to you.”

“She knows I told you everything. She might break down on you.”

“Better me than you.”

That was almost enough to make me smile. “Thank you.”

“I’ll distract her and get her thinking about something else.” He reached for my hand and touched my ring.

Wedding bells. He didn’t say it, but I got the message. And of course that was what my mother would think. A man in Gideon’s position didn’t come back to a woman through her mother—especially one like Monica Stanton—unless his “intentions” were serious.

That was an issue we’d tackle another day.

FOR the next hour, Gideon pretended like he wasn’t hovering. He stayed close, following me from room to room on some pretext or another. When my stomach growled, he tugged me immediately into the kitchen, pulling together a plate of sandwiches, potato chips, and prepared macaroni salad.

We ate at the island, and I let the comfort of his attentiveness soothe my nerves. As rough as things were, he was there for me to lean on. It made a lot of the troubles we were facing seem surmountable.

What couldn’t we accomplish, as long as we stayed together?

“What did Corinne want?” I asked. “Besides you.”

His features hardened. “I don’t want to talk about Corinne.”

There was an edge to his voice that niggled at me. “Is everything all right?”

“What did I just say?”

“Something lame that I’m choosing to ignore.”

He made an exasperated noise, but relented. “She’s upset.”

“Screaming upset? Or crying upset?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. There’s a difference between being mad at a guy and being a teary mess over him. For example: Deanna is mad and can plot your destruction; I was a teary mess and could barely crawl out of bed every day.”

“God. Eva.” He reached over and set his hand over mine. “I’m sorry.”

“Cut it out with the apologies, already! You’ll make it up to me having to deal with my mother. So is Corinne mad or teary?”

“She was crying.” Gideon winced. “Christ. She lost it.”

“I’m sorry you’re dealing with that. Don’t let her guilt-trip you, though.”

“I used her,” he said quietly, “to protect you.”

I set my sandwich down and narrowed my gaze at him. “Did you or did you not tell her that all you could offer was friendship?”

“You know I did. But I also deliberately fostered the impression that we might be more, for the sake of the press and the police. I sent her mixed signals. That’s what I feel guilty about.”

“Well, stop. That bitch tried to make me think you’d banged her”—I wiggled two fingers—“ twice . And the first time she did, it hurt so bad I’m still getting over it. Plus she’s married, for fuck’s sake. She’s got no business making moves on my man when she’s got her own.”

“Back up to the part about banging her. What are you talking about?”

I explained the incidents—the lipstick-on-the-cuff disaster at the Crossfire and my impromptu visit to Corinne’s apartment, when she’d tried to play it like she’d just got done screwing him.

“Well, that changes things considerably,” he said. “There’s nothing more she and I need to say to each other.”

“Thank you.”

He reached over to tuck my hair behind my ear. “We’ll eventually be on the other side of all this.”

“Whatever will we do with ourselves then?” I muttered.

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of something.”

“Sex, right?” I shook my head. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Don’t forget work—together.”

“Oh my God. You don’t quit.”

He crunched on a chip and swallowed. “I want you to see the revamped Crossroads and Cross Industries websites when we’re done with lunch.”

I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Really? That was fast. I’m impressed.”

“Let’s have you look at them first before you decide that.”

GIDEON knew me well. Work was my escape and he put me to it. He set me up with his laptop in the living room, made my phone stop ringing, then went into his office to call my mother.

For the first few minutes after he’d left me alone, I listened to the low murmur of his voice and tried to focus on the websites he’d pulled up for me, but it was no use. I was too scattered to pay attention. I ended up calling Cary instead.

“Where the fuck are you?” he barked by way of greeting.

“I know it’s been crazy,” I said quickly, having no doubt my mother and father would’ve been calling the apartment Cary and I shared when I didn’t answer my smartphone. “I’m sorry.”

The background noise on Cary’s end told me he was somewhere out on the streets.

“Mind telling me what’s going on? Everyone’s calling me—your parents, Stanton, Clancy. They’re all looking for you and you’re not answering your cell. I’ve been freaking out wondering what happened to you!”

Crap. I closed my eyes. “My dad found out about Nathan.”

He was silent, the sounds of distant traffic and honking the only indication he was still on the line. Then, “Holy shit. Oh, baby girl. That’s bad.”

The compassion in his voice made my throat too tight to speak. I didn’t want to cry any more.

The background noise suddenly muted, as if he’d stepped into someplace quiet. “How is he?” Cary asked.

“He’s torn up. God, Cary, it was awful . I think he was crying. And he’s furious with Mom. That’s probably why she’s calling so much.”

“What’s he going to do?”

“He’s flying out to New York. I don’t know when, but he said he’d be calling when he landed.”

“He’s flying out now ? Like today?”

“I think so,” I said miserably. “I’m not sure how he’s managing to get time off work again so soon.”

“I’ll fix up the guest room when I get home, if you haven’t done it already.”

“I’ll take care of it. Where are you?”

“Catching lunch and a matinee with Tatiana. I had to get out for a while.”

“I’m so sorry you’ve been fielding my calls.”

“Not a big deal,” he dismissed, in his usual Cary way. “I was more worried than anything. You haven’t been around much lately. I don’t know what you’re doing or who you’re doing. You’re not acting like yourself.”

The note of accusation in his tone deepened my remorse, but there was nothing I could share. “I’m sorry.”

He waited, as if for an explanation, then said something under his breath. “I’ll be home in a couple hours.”

“All right. See you then.”

I hung up, then called my stepfather.

“Eva.”

“Hi, Richard.” I dug right in. “Did my dad call Mom?”

“Just a moment.” There was silence on the phone for a minute or two, then I heard a door shut. “He did call, yes. It was … unpleasant for your mother. This weekend has been very hard on her. She’s not well, and I’m concerned.”