Chapter 15 Friday found Trey sharing breakfast with Cary and me after an overnighter. As I drank the day's first cup of coffee, I watched him interact with Cary and I was genuinely thrilled to see the intimate smiles and covert touches they gave one another.
I'd had easy relationships like that and hadn't appreciated them at the time. They had been comfortable and uncomplicated, but they'd been superficial in a fundamental way, too.
How deep could a love affair get if you didn't know the darkest recesses of your lover's soul? That was the dilemma I'd faced with Gideon.
Day 2 After Gideon had begun. I found myself wanting to go to him and apologize for leaving him yet again. I wanted to tell him I was there for him, ready to listen or simply offer silent comfort. But I was too emotionally invested. I got wounded too easily. I was too afraid of rejection. And knowing he wouldn't let me get too close only intensified that fear. Even if we did figure things out, I'd only tear myself apart trying to live with just the bits and pieces he decided to share with me.
At least my job was going well. The celebratory lunch the executives gave in honor of the agency landing the Kingsman account made me genuinely happy. I felt blessed to work in such a positive environment. But when I heard that Gideon had been invited - although no one expected him to show up - I returned quietly to my desk and focused on work the rest of the afternoon.
I hit the gym on the way home; then picked up some items to make fettuccini alfredo for dinner with creme brulee for dessert - comfort food guaranteed to put me in a carbohydrate coma. I expected sleep to offer me a break from the endless what-ifs my brain was recycling, hopefully long into Saturday morning.
Cary and I ate in the living room with chopsticks, his idea to cheer me up. He said dinner was great, but I couldn't tell. I snapped out of it when he fell silent, too, and I realized I was being a less than stellar friend.
"When are the Grey Isles' campaign ads going up?" I asked.
"I'm not sure, but get this..." He grinned. "You know how it is with male models - we're tossed around like condoms at an orgy. It's tough to stand out from the crowd, unless you're dating someone famous. Which I'm suddenly reported to be doing since those photos of you and me were plastered everywhere. I'm the side piece of action in your relationship with Gideon Cross. You've done wonders for making me a hot commodity."
I laughed. "You didn't need my help for that."
"Well, it certainly didn't hurt. Anyway, they called me back for a couple more shoots. I think they might just use me for more than five minutes."
"We'll have to celebrate," I teased.
"Absolutely. When you're up for it."
We ended up hanging out and watching the original Tron. His smartphone rang twenty minutes into the movie and I heard him speaking to his agency. "Sure. I'll be there in fifteen, tops. I'll call you when I get there."
"Got a job?" I asked after he'd hung up.
"Yeah. A model showed up for a night shoot so trashed he's worthless." He studied me. "You wanna come?"
I stretched my legs out on the couch. "Nope. I'm good right here."
"You sure you're okay?"
"All I need is mindless entertainment. Just the thought of getting dressed again exhausts me." I'd be happy wearing my flannel pajama bottoms and holey old tank top all weekend. As much as I hurt inside, total comfort outside seemed like a necessity. "Don't worry about me. I know I've been a mess lately, but I'll get it together. Go on and enjoy yourself."
After Cary rushed out, I paused the movie and went to the kitchen for some wine. I stopped by the breakfast bar, my fingertips gliding over the roses Gideon had sent me the previous weekend. Petals fell to the countertop like tears. I thought about cutting the stems and using the flower food packet that came with the bouquet, but it was pointless hanging on to them. I'd throw the arrangement away tomorrow, the last reminder of my equally doomed relationship.
I'd gotten farther with Gideon in one week than I had with other relationships that lasted two years. I would always love him for that. Maybe I'd always love him, period.
And one day, that might not hurt so badly.
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Cary singsonged as he yanked the comforter off of me.
"Ugh. Go away."
"You've got five minutes to get your ass up and in the shower, or the shower's coming to you."
Opening one eye, I peeked at him. He was shirtless and wearing baggy pants that barely clung to his hips. As far as wake-up calls went, he was prime. "Why do I have to get up?"
"Because when you're flat on your back you're not on your feet."
"Wow. That was deep, Cary Taylor."
He crossed his arms and shot me an arch look. "We need to go shopping."
I buried my face in the pillow. "No."
"Yes. I seem to remember you saying this was a 'Sunday garden party' and 'rock star gathering' in the same sentence. What the hell do I wear to something like that?"
"Ah, well. Good point."
"What are you wearing?"
"I...I don't know. I was leaning toward the 'English tea with hat' look, but now I'm not so sure."
He gave a brisk nod. "Right. Let's hit the shops and find something sexy, classy, and cool."
Growling a token protest, I rolled out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. It was impossible to shower without thinking of Gideon, without picturing his perfect body and remembering the desperate sounds he made when he came in my mouth. Everywhere I looked, Gideon was there. I'd even started hallucinating black Bentley SUVs all around town. I thought I spotted one damn near everywhere I went.
Cary and I had lunch; then we bounced all over the city, hitting the best of the Upper East Side thrift stores and Madison Avenue boutiques before taking a taxi downtown to SoHo. Along the way, Cary had two teenage girls ask for his autograph, which tickled me more than him, I think.
"Told you," he crowed.
"Told me what?"
"They recognized me from an entertainment news blog. One of the posts about you and Cross."
I snorted. "Glad my love life is working out for someone."
He was due at another job around three and I went with him, spending a few hours in the studio of a loud and brash photographer. Remembering it was Saturday, I slipped into a far corner and made my weekly call to my dad.
"You still happy in New York?" he asked me above the background noise of dispatch talking over the radio in his cruiser.
"So far so good." A lie, but the truth helped no one.
His partner said something I didn't catch. My dad snorted and said, "Hey, Chris insists he saw you on television the other day. Some cable channel, celebrity gossip thing. The guys won't leave me alone about it."
I sighed. "Tell them watching those shows is bad for their brain cells."
"So you're not dating one of the richest men in America?"
"No. What about your love life?" I asked, quickly diverting. "Are you seeing anyone?"
"Nothing serious. Hang on." He responded to a call on the radio, then said, "Sorry, sweetheart. I have to run. I love you. Miss you like crazy."
