Fiona: I have news. Want to meet for a drink?
Gideon: Can’t until Christmas. Took Cheryl and Quinn up to Flagstaff. After?
Fiona: Sure. Have fun!
It shouldn’t annoy me, or make me sad that I couldn’t see him. But my feelings didn’t quite listen to my brain and I frowned. Two more days…I could wait that long. That gave me time to come up with a gift.
* * * *
The jersey material was stiff and uncomfortable, but my last name and favorite number stood on the back with the red embroidery. Yeah—the gift could be a total bust between the signed jersey from the kids and my autograph. But I hoped it would make him smile, at least. I rearranged the tissue paper in the bag about six times, smoothed down my hair three times and adjusted the hem on my slim black sweater dress. Bea had gotten it for me the day before and it fit me in all the right spots. Amanda had gotten us mace keychains—practical, but not a fun Christmas present.Whatever.
I wasn’t trying to impress Gideon. No. I wasn’t. Nor did my palms sweat and my heart race. The café was just too hot and I’d had too much coffee. My watch read ten minutes past our meeting time, and a ripple of panic went through me.What if he stands me up?
The bell rang at the front of the store and his large, perfectly toned frame appeared. I gulped and ran my teeth over my bottom lip when he actively searched for me. The smile that greeted me went straight to my heart, shooting through my veins into my toes.God, he’s beautiful.“Hey, muscles.”
“Barbie,” he replied and ran a hand over his jaw. It tensed but his smile broke out again. “You’re a sight, I tell you.”
“A good one, I hope?”
“Yes, Fiona. A very good one.” He walked to the other side of the table and bent low, his face inches from mine when he stopped. Instead of greeting me with the lips I craved, he just gave my hair a tug. “You look happy. Did you have a nice holiday?”
“I took the job!”
“Wait, really?” he shouted. “Fiona! That’s fuck—that’s amazing!” He winced and lowered his voice. “Tell me everything.”
His genuine interest about did me in. I told him about Michelle’s conversation—leaving the part about him out—and he leaned closer to me with each word. His eyes warmed over and he gripped my hand the entire time. I had never felt so supported. “I knew you’d take it.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“He’ll always be a part of you. Your story. Your puzzle. We’re all made of pieces and each one keeps us together. He’s at least three or four of them. You’ll miss a piece of yourself without him.”
I blinked, replaying those words in my head. “That was beautiful, Gideon.”
“I have my moments.” His gaze went from my eyes to our joined hands. “I’m proud of you. Not that you took it—I knew you would—but that you figured it out. It’s not an easy decision, but I think you’ll find happiness there.”
“Thank you,” I replied and hoped my shaky voice wasn’t too apparent. I took a swig of water and looked at the beige carpet for a couple of seconds. “I got you a gift.”
“Oh? I hope it’s not just a guilt gift. Those are the worst,” he groaned and the familiar sound made me grin. I preferred grumpy Gideon. I knew how to deal with him. Sensitive, thoughtful and sweet Gideon…hell, no.
“Okay. It’s not a guilt gift. One is important…the other is for fun.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything, you know. I didn’t expect it. I found that journal when I was out with Cheryl buying some weird-ass book about organizing her life. I just thought, you’re going to run out of paper at some point. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“No. You’re wrong,” I raised my voice to the point a couple near us gave us speculative glances. “It meant a lot to me. I never got to thank you. So, this is me, thanking you in my awkward way.”
“Fair enough. Now, where’s my gift?” He clapped his hands and gave me the goofiest grin I had seen. He rivaled a little kid and it was fucking cute. “Quinn got me socks and Cheryl bought a world’s best uncle mug. I love the two of them, but they are the worst.”
I chuckled and handed over the bag. The second it left my fingers, nerves danced down my throat.What if he hates it? Laughs at it? Throws it at me?I deserved it after I’d left his place last week. “Ah, can I… Never mind.”
“What?” He stopped opening it and gave me a concerned look. “Why are you pale? Oh my god. You’re nervous. Fiona, I’ll love it.”
“I’m not sure. Just, get it over with please.” I clenched my eyes shut and waited as the paper shuffled. The café smelled of bacon and grease, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from my inner turmoil. I waited, and he finally made a sound.
“Holy shit.”
“It’s just a joke—” He had his jersey, the one with all the kids’ signatures on it. He was supposed to open that one second. His entire face froze and his gaze moved all over the jersey and he held it up higher. The white material danced across the table and twenty miserable seconds went by. “Gideon. Do you like it?”
“I love it.” He spoke with such confidence and determination, I sat up straighter. “I’m getting a frame and hanging this up in my favorite room of my house.”
