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“She texted the news that you two were having a baby?” I ask incredulously. “She didn’t tell you in person? Or at least call?”
He shoots me a sideways glance. “No one calls anyone anymore, woman.”
“I call people,” I say, thinking how much I wish I had Gideon’s number, so I could call him as soon as Adrian leaves and give him a heads-up about what’s going on with his son. “I call people all the time.”
He pats my arm with exaggerated care. “Yes, you do. And it’s a testimony to how sweet you are that we haven’t all ghosted you for it. See, you do have flaws. No one’s perfect, after all. Thanks for the reminder.” He rises from the stool, rolling his shoulders back.
“You’re welcome,” I say dryly. “But you should call your dad. Or better yet, meet up. This isn’t a texting matter.”
“Yes, Mom, I know,” he says, the words like cold water tossed in my face.
If Gideon and I end up living happily ever after, I could be Adrian’s stepmother someday. It’s not something I’ve thought about until this exact moment.
This sobering, chilling, borderline horrific moment…
I’m still reeling when Adrian pulls me in for a friendly hug. “I’ll hit you up later. Tell Ben the cleaner is coming this afternoon instead of tomorrow for me, will you? He’s in there with Noelle, but they’ll probably be asleep for a while. They got hopped up on chocolate-covered espresso beans and shut down the dance floor at three a.m.”
I smile as he pulls back. “Will do.”
When he’s gone, I dash into my room and flip open my computer. A little googling reveals numbers for Gideon’s offices in New York and Burlington, but no home phone or cell phone or anything that looks like a personal email. But I know where he lives, and the doorman was really nice this morning when I left my number.
Crossing my fingers that the same man is still on duty, I track down the number and place my call, hoping I can give a heads-up to Gideon before it’s too late.
twenty-two
GIDEON
Mitch and I cross Union Square Park, get seated at the diner, and inhale our food in near silence. It isn’t until we’re nursing our third cup of coffee after the food has been cleared that he finally speaks his mind.
But that’s Mitch. He’s a hothead in many ways, but when it comes to his friends, he always chooses his words carefully.
“This could ruin the Bronx deal with Watson Global,” he says, lifting a hand to stop me before I can respond. “Which is fine. I’m okay with losing the contract, I really am. I don’t think Silas is as on board with sustainable retrofitting as he pretends to be. He’s a great guy and I love him, don’t get me wrong, but he’s old-school and profit is still his number one concern. And we’ve never done a shelter before. It was going to be a bear of a project, anyway, and a permitting nightmare, I’m sure.” He threads his fingers together into a single, massive fist beside his coffee mug. “But what if one deal becomes two deals, three deals, four? We do a lot of work for them, Gideon. It’s a significant chunk of our bottom line.”
“I know,” I say, wishing I’d had time to discuss this with Sydney.
But I can’t deny that I’m glad I didn’t realize who she was when we met. If I’d known, I might have succeeded at holding her at a distance, and I don’t want to imagine a world where I don’t know how she feels wrapped around me or the sounds she makes when she’s about to come on my cock.
Pushing memories of last night aside, I add, “But Silas is grooming Sydney to take over the company. If he trusts her business sense enough to turn over his life’s work to her in a year or two, surely, he can be convinced to trust her judgment when it comes to her personal life, as well.”
Mitch studies me for a beat, his dark eyes worried, before he asks, “So this is more than fucking?”
My brows lift at the blunt words, but I nod. “Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about her, no matter how hard I’ve tried.” I briefly explain how Sydney and I met, how we tried to put a stop to things after that one night in Maine, and how we reconnected at Adrian’s party last night. “That’s when we discovered our first…awkward connection. She and Adrian dated last year when they were both at BU.”
Mitch curses and rolls his eyes, muttering beneath his breath.
“I know,” I say. “It’s not great.”
“It’s a mess,” Mitch says. “A hot fucking mess. I’ll be honest, man, I don’t see a world where this doesn’t blow up in your face. I know you’re the smooth talker around here, but no one is this smooth. Not even you.” He pushes his mug toward the table’s edge as our waitress walks by with the coffeepot. As she tops him off, he adds, “Betsy told me about your Coney Island visit, by the way. She thinks I should let you handle the Wednesday meeting on your own.”
I wave our server’s offer of more coffee away, waiting until she leaves before asking, “Are you okay with that? You still trust me?”
At the end of the day, I’m the owner of G.P.G. Green and technically Mitch’s boss, but we’ve worked together for over a decade. I couldn’t run the New York office without him, and I’m not about to pull rank. If he wants in on the meeting, he’ll be included. End of story.
“Of course, I trust you, asshole.” He dumps creamer into his cup with a sigh. “And I understand falling for the wrong girl, but…fuck, she’s young. And such a good kid. I’ve known her since she was this big.” He holds out a hand, just a few inches taller than the top of our booth. “She had to grow up so fast after her mom died. Silas tried, but feelings aren’t his thing. He hired people to handle that part of parenting, but what Sydney needed was love. A father’s love. And she didn’t get it. It made me sad for her.”
“And protective,” I add. “I get it. I know she’s young, but…I haven’t felt this way in so long, Mitch. I don’t know if I ever have, honestly. She’s special.”
“The heart wants what it wants,” he murmurs. “I get it.”
