“No. I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen at the White House. The chef would shoo me away.”
“Holy shit, you grew up in the White House,” she says, shaking her head. “I mean, sure, I knew that, but it seems like such an unreal thing.”
“Oh, it’s real.” I nod and sip my wine. “I wasn’t allowed to do much myself. No cooking. Someone cleaned my room.”
“Wow. Do you knowhowto clean?”
Laughing, I pull a noodle out of the pot. “Yes. I live alone now, and I don’t have help. I do it all myself. Except the cooking. Well, if it comes in a box, I can manage it. And I’m really good at using the microwave and calling for takeout. I know, that makes me sound spoiled as hell.”
“No, it doesn’t. A lot of people don’t cook.”
“Gideon’s excellent in the kitchen.”
Willow grins at me. “I know. Debbie was thebestcook, and she made sure all three of us knew the basics. But Gideonlovedbeing inhere with her. He’d spend hours and hours with her, learning everything he could. I don’t think it was the food per se—I think it was that he wanted to be with his mom. We were all close to Debbie and Ray, but Gideon and Debbie had something special. Maybe because of the tragic way his biological mom died.”
What the hell happened to her?
I want to know everything, but my gut tells me that digging into that information is probably best done with Gideon.
Instead, I keep focusing on Debbie.
“How did Debbie die?” I ask softly.
“Cancer.” Her nose wrinkles as she sprinkles cheese over the sauce in her pan. “Fucking cancer. Ryker had just won the Stanley Cup the year prior, and he was going for year two in a row.”
“Wow.”
“He was in the middle of the season, and we found out about the cancer. It was aggressive, and already systemic. She passed when Ry was in the middle of playoffs, and he didn’t get to come home for the funeral.”
“Oh my God, that’s horrible.”
“Gideon came home when I called him and told him that time was running short. Ray wouldn’t leave her side, of course. Ray and Deb had the kind of love that you read about in those novels. That you dream about. He was obsessed with her, completely devoted to her. Gideon and I took turns bringing him food, sitting with her while he freshened up, but he slept with her, held her, wouldn’t budge. Not that that surprised either of us, because Ray was the OG of feral men for his woman.”
She takes a breath and a sip of her wine. We’ve almost made it through this bottle already, and I’m feeling ...floaty.
I’m also riveted. Gideon rarely talks about his adoptive parents, and hearing this tragic story only makes my heart soften toward him even more.
“Gid and I were both in the room with Ray and Debbie that morning. Just quietly sitting, listening to her breathe. And then, suddenly, she just ...wasn’t. Wasn’t breathing. It was the calmest, most peaceful transition.”
“Wow.” I wipe a tear off my face.
“Debbie loved so big, so hard, and she deserved to die with complete love and peace, and she did. But man, it broke us all for a while. Ray never recovered, and he passed two years later.”
No wonder the three of them are so close to one another. They’ve been through so much together. How can I be mad at her for wanting to jump in and defend Gideon when I first arrived? She thought I was the cause of him almost being killed.
Because I was.
But I don’t want to focus on that now.
“Do you have a photo of them that I could borrow? I’d like to sketch a gift for Gideon.”
“Honey, I havehundreds. Give me your number, and I’ll text them to you so it’s on the down-low. I know that Gid has a couple in his office, but I have some great ones that are better.”
“I can’t give you my number. I’m not allowed to have a phone.” I finish my wine and then lift a brow when I see that Willow’s opening a fresh bottle.
“Why can’t you have a phone?”
She pours me more wine, and I try to decide how to answer her.
