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Gideon clearly made certain assumptions about me, but if we decided to give this a shot, he wouldn’t have to be the one to fly to meet me all the time. I’m a busy woman, yes, but I’m also a wealthy one. I have the disposable income to purchase a flight to Vermont whenever I want.
Hell, I have the money to buy a home in Burlington, if it came to that, and in a year or two, I should have the ability to work from home at least one or two days a week.
We could make this work; I really believe that.
If only I’d never dated Adrian. If only I’d met his dark eyes across that crowded lecture hall and looked away. I should have. I was a graduate student and his teaching assistant. He should have remained a name on my attendance list. That’s it.
But that wasn’t it, and I meant what I said to Gideon. I want him to mend things with his son. I can tell how important it is to him. He wouldn’t be the man I’m starting to fall for if it wasn’t.
Which means we’re still doomed and all my boo-hooing is accomplishing is making this harder for both of us.
I try to pull away, but Gideon’s arms tighten around me. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he says, running a warm hand up to curl around the back of my neck.
“I didn’t mean for you to see me like this,” I mutter as I relax against his chest again, grateful for a few more stolen moments.
“I know.”
“I was just so sad,” I say, my voice wobbling again. “I’ve never felt this way before. I know we barely know each other, and I’m probably being ridiculous, but it’s like…”
“I feel it, too,” he says.
I sniff, then hold my breath. “You do?”
“I do.” He pulls back, tipping his head down until his nose is a whisper away from mine. “And smart or not, I don’t want to be alone right now. And I really don’t want you to be alone.” His lips drift closer to mine, making my heart slam against my ribs. “Come home with me?”
“Yes,” I whisper, lifting my chin.
“We can talk more,” he says, pulling back far enough to take his mouth out of easy reach. But he eases my disappointment as he adds, “And I have a spare room if you want to stay over.”
“I want to stay over,” I say without thinking. When my brain has a second to catch up with my mouth, I amend, “I’ll just have to text my friend again. I’ll tell her I decided to stay at my dad’s place uptown and work from there tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.” He pulls his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll call a car.”
“I’ll text Noelle,” I say, unzipping my small purse. By the time I’m done, the car is pulling up at the curb.
I look up, surprised. “That was fast.”
“We got lucky,” Gideon says. “The driver was right around the corner.” He reaches for the back door, holding it open. “Ready?”
I nod. I have no idea what we’re going to talk about at his place, or if he really intends for me to stay in the guest room, but I’m not worried. I’m just grateful to have been granted a reprieve from a forever goodbye.
I don’t want to say goodbye to this man, especially not for forever.
Not when it feels so right to slide into the backseat of a car with him and thread my fingers through his.
The car pulls through Union Square, past the four-story bookstore on Seventeenth Street, where I spent countless hours studying in high school.
Starting our sophomore year, Noelle took classes at the art institute not far from here. We’d take the subway down after our snobby prep school let out at three, and I’d study in the bookstore café while Noelle learned to draft patterns and bring her designs to life. Then, she’d come find me and see if I was ready to grab dinner.
If I wasn’t done with my homework yet, she’d make a game of finding the filthiest sex scenes on the romance shelves. She’d carry them back to my table, cradling them like priceless, filthy treasures, and read them aloud to me in a hushed whisper during study breaks.
We’d giggle until we had tears streaming down our faces and the people at the tables around us shot us dirty looks.
Noelle was still a virgin at that point, too. She was on a scholarship to our prep school and spent most of her time studying to keep her grades up, and I was just…me, the girl who was mildly terrified by the thought of being naked with another person.
Back then, we were positive that at least half the kinky stuff the characters were getting up to in the bedroom was pure fiction.
Now, I would happily reenact every steamy scene I read with the man seated beside me, and I’m pretty sure neither one of us would be laughing.
