Page 62 of Take Me I'm Yours


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And he’s on his way up.

twenty-six

GIDEON

I can count the times Adrian has stopped at my place unannounced on one hand. One finger, in fact, and that was only because a pigeon pooped on his head on his way out of the Union Square subway station and he didn’t have time to get back uptown to his hotel before he was due at a DJ gig.

I assumed Sydney and I would be safe from discovery here.

Instead, she’s hiding under the tablecloth on the patio, the same tablecloth I was under a few moments ago while I was devouring her pussy, and my son is going to be letting himself in any moment.

In the kitchen, I wash my hands and splash water on my face. Then, I pour myself another cup of coffee and do my best to play it cool. I nearly have myself talked down from the edge when I glance out toward the table to see Sydney’s arm emerging from under the tablecloth. She grabs her plate, drawing it under the table with her, before reaching for her water glass.

Smart. If Adrian notices I was having breakfast outside and sees two sets of plates, he’ll wonder what’s up. But I’m not sure she has time to get rid of all the evidence before he reaches the top floor.

I start outside to help her, but the sound of the key turning in the lock stops me in my tracks. I spin, clutching my coffee mug like a lifeline, and pray I’m blocking Adrian’s view of the patio with my body as he slams inside.

“Ouch, shit,” he curses, wincing as he brings a hand to his head. “Drank too much yesterday.”

“Can I get you an ibuprofen?” I ask, sounding remarkably calm considering the state of my blood pressure. “Or some Pedialyte? I think I still have some in the fridge from last New Year’s Eve.”

“No, thanks, I’ll be fine.” He drags a hand down his face as he shuffles in. “Just water would be great. Or one of those orange sodas, if you have them.”

“I do,” I say, relief rushing through my chest as he sags into one of the stools at the island with his back to the windows. A quick glance outside reveals Sydney’s finished clearing her plates, as well. I grab a soda from the fridge and crack the top before setting it in front of my son. “To what do I owe this surprise visit? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but after the way our discussion ended yesterday, I didn’t expect to hear from you for a while.”

“Mom flew in and met us at the bar,” he says, pausing to take a sip of his drink. His eyes slide closed as he sighs. “Fuck, that’s good. I haven’t had an orange soda in forever. Not since that last weekend with you in Burlington.”

His words make my throat tight. I remember that visit. He was fourteen and so angry all the time. The only thing he seemed to enjoy was hitting the rock-climbing wall at my gym with me and orange sodas on the porch after. But even those memories are marred by tension and stress. Every conversation was strained, every smile hard won. He worked so hard not to let me in.

His eyes open, the dark circles beneath them making him look even more like his mother. Angela’s a beautiful woman, but she’s always had dark circles under her eyes, even when she was pregnant with Adrian, and stopped staying up late and surviving on lemon water and diet yogurt to maintain her dancer’s figure.

“Mom mentioned you were thinking about giving Gigi and me the apartment, so we could have a safe place to raise the baby,” he says, sending a rush of heat up my neck.

My fucking ex. She never stops. This is part of the reason I moved to Vermont; a state Angela has no interest in visiting. Even nearly twenty years after the end of our marriage, she seems determined to stick her nose into areas of my life where it absolutely doesn’t belong.

Before I can tell Adrian that there’s been a misunderstanding, he adds, “But she was lying, wasn’t she?”

My brows lift. “Well…yes. She asked me about the apartment yesterday, but I said no. This is my home when I’m in the city, and I’m going to need to be in New York more for work this year. But if you need a place to stay, you’re welcome to the guest room.”

That would make being with Sydney awkward to say the least, but I already know Adrian has no interest in being roommates, a fact he proves by emitting a sharp burst of laughter.

“Ow,” he says, wincing again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be a dick, but we’d be terrible roommates. You have OCD and I’m a slob. A hot, talented slob, but…”

I smile. “We’re all a little messier in our twenties. I certainly was. You should have seen our apartment when you were a kid. It looked like a bomb exploded most days.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen pictures. Mom has some in my baby book.” He sighs. “There aren’t any pictures of you in it, though. Not a single one, but I remember you being around. I remember going to the park and museums and stuff with you. And dinners with grandma and grandpa when Mom was at dance practice or whatever.”

I nod, but don’t speak. I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I don’t want to say anything to interrupt his flow. The sense that something happened with him yesterday, something big, continues to grow as he takes another drink of his soda and shakes his head with a tight laugh.

“She always did that,” he says. “Just…rewrote history. But so did her dancer friends and the losers she dated. For a long time, I thought it was something everyone did. Hell, I did it, too, until enough friends called me on it that I figured out creatively editing your past whenever you felt like it wasn’t kosher. Still, with Mom, I just…” He shrugs. “It was a part of her. I was so used to it, I didn’t think about it much. Didn’t even notice it, really. But yesterday, watching her sip absinthe with my friends and make touring around the country when I was a kid sound so glamorous, it just…hit me. It wasn’t glamorous. It sucked. I didn’t have any kids my age to play with, I missed my home and my daycare and Central Park and my grandparents. And I really, really missed my dad.” His tired eyes meet mine and the lump growing in my throat swells larger. “I knew you missed me, too. Even though Mom said you were too busy with law school to care.”

“I did,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I missed you every day. I still do.”

His eyes begin to shine. “Gigi’s a lot like Mom. In the good ways, but…also the bad. What if the same thing happens with us? What if we have the baby and it doesn’t work out and she just…takes my kid away. What if my son or daughter learns to hate me for no reason?”

I move around the island, wanting to pull him in for a hug so badly, but I’m not sure we’re there yet. I pause just a few inches away and promise him, “That’s not going to happen. We won’t let it. If the baby’s yours, we’ll lawyer up immediately and make sure you always have access to your child. I messed up with your mom. I didn’t see what was coming until it was too late. We won’t let that happen to you. I won’t and your mom won’t. As flawed as she is, she loves you more than anything in the world. She’ll tear the stars out of the sky before she lets you suffer that kind of pain.”

He swipes at his face, smearing the tears slipping quietly down his cheeks. “How can you do that?”

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