“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.”
“I miss you, too, Daddy. Be careful.”
“Always. Bye.”
I killed the call and went back to my former spot to wait for Cary to wrap things up. In the lull, my mind tormented me. Where was Gideon now? What was he doing?
Would Monday bring me an inbox full of photos of him with another woman?
SUNDAYafternoon I borrowed Clancy and one of Stanton’s town cars for the drive out to the Vidal estate in Dutchess County. Leaning back in the seat, I looked out the window, absently admiring the serene vista of rolling meadows and green woodlands that stretched to the distant horizon. I realized I was working on Day Four After Gideon. The pain I’d felt the first few days had turned into a dull throbbing that felt almost like the flu. Every part of my body ached, as if I were going through some sort of physical withdrawal, and my throat burned with unshed tears.
“Are you nervous?” Cary asked me.
I glanced at him. “Not really. Gideon won’t be there.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“I wouldn’t be going if I thought otherwise. I do have some pride, you know.” I watched him drum his fingers on the armrest between our two seats. For all the shopping we’d done yesterday, he’d made only one purchase: a black leather tie. I’d teased him mercilessly about it, he of the perfect fashion sense going with something like that.
He caught me looking at it. “What? You still don’t like my tie? I think it works well with the emo jeans and my lounge lizard jacket.”
“Cary”—my lips quirked—“you can wear anything.”
It was true. Cary could pull off any look, a benefit of having a sculpted, rangy body and a face that could make angels weep.
I set my hand over his restless fingers. “Areyounervous?”
“Trey didn’t call last night,” he muttered. “He said he would.”
I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just one missed call, Cary. I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything serious.”
“He could’ve called this morning,” he argued. “Trey’s not flaky like the others I’ve dated. He wouldn’t have forgotten to call, which means he just doesn’t want to.”
“The rat bastard. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures of you having a great time looking sexy, classy, and cool to torment him with on Monday.”
His mouth twitched. “Ah, the deviousness of the female mind. It’s a shame Cross won’t see you today. I think I got a semi when you came out of your room in that dress.”
