Book 1 - Page 42 (1/2)

I remembered the conversation we'd had in his office over lunch and the way he'd struggled to express himself to keep me. He was as confused and torn about what was happening between us as I was, and I knew how easy it was to fall into established patterns. After all, hadn't I just fallen into one of my own by bailing? I'd spent enough years in therapy to know better than to wound and run when I was hurting.

Heartsick, I stepped into an Italian bistro and took a table. I ordered a gla.s.s of s.h.i.+raz and a pizza margherita, hoping wine and food would calm the vibrating anxiety inside me so that I could think properly.

When the waiter returned with my wine, I gulped down half the gla.s.s without really tasting it. I missed Gideon already, missed the playful happy mood he'd been in when I left. His scent was all over me - the smell of his skin and hot, grinding s.e.x. My eyes stung and I let a few tears slide down my face, despite being in a very public, very busy restaurant. My food came and I picked at it. It tasted like cardboard, although I doubted that had anything to do with the chef or the venue.

Pulling over the chair where I'd set my bag, I dug out my new smartphone with the intention of leaving a message with Dr. Travis's answering service. He'd suggested we have video chat appointments until I found a new therapist in New York and I decided to take him up on that offer. That's when I noticed the twenty-one missed calls from Gideon and a text; I f**ked up again. Don't break up with me. Talk to me. Pls.

The tears welled again. I held the phone to my heart, at a loss for what to do. I couldn't get the images of Gideon and other women out of my mind. I couldn't stop picturing him f**king the h.e.l.l out of another woman on that same bed, using toys on her, driving her crazy, taking his pleasure from her body...

It was irrational and pointless to think of such things, and it made me feel petty and small and physically sick.

I startled when the phone vibrated against me, nearly dropping it. Nursing my misery, I debating letting it go to voice mail because I could see on the screen that it was Gideon - plus he was the only one who had the number - but I couldn't ignore it, because he was clearly frantic. As much as I'd wanted to wound him earlier, I couldn't stand to do it now.

”h.e.l.lo.” My voice didn't sound like mine, clogged as it was with tears and emotion.

”Eva! Thank G.o.d.” Gideon sounded so anxious. ”Where are you?”

Looking around, I didn't see anything that would tell me the name of the restaurant. ”I don't know. I...I'm sorry, Gideon.”

”No, Eva. Don't. It's my fault. I need to find you. Can you describe where you're at? Did you walk?”

”Yes. I walked.”

”I know which exit you took. Which way did you head?” He was breathing quickly and I could hear the sounds of traffic and car horns in the background.

”To the left.”

”Did you turn any corners after that?”

”I don't think so. I don't know.” I looked around for a server I could ask. ”I'm in a restaurant. Italian. There's seating on the sidewalk...and a wrought iron fence. French doors...Jesus, Gideon, I - ”