This time, I wouldn’t be pursuing this business because it was a desperate attempt at fitting in with my family. After all, hadn’t I found a new family? One who supported me instead of cutting me down. Who protected me instead of judging me. A clan who rallied around me at the first sign of trouble.
I typed a quick answer. I was available and I would drop everything to make this bride three incredible dresses. The wedding planner replied in an instant; she must have been under an immense amount of stress and tied to her phone. She’d call me in a few hours when she was with the bride, and we’d go over the particulars.
“What is it?” Gideon’s voice was groggy with sleep.
I lay back on the pillows and looked at him, smiling. “I just got a request for three wedding dresses,” I told him, giddiness making me wiggle. “A rush job. Huge.”
The sleep cleared from his eyes. “In the city?”
I paused at the harshness of his tone. “Well, yes. I’d have togo and meet her, and if it’s a rush job, I’d probably have to use suppliers and seamstresses I already have relationships with. And I’ll have to find somewhere to work. Maybe a hotel, or I could see if I could get a short-term lease somewhere…” I trailed off. When Gideon didn’t answer, I arched my brows. “Are you…mad?”
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m not mad. You need to do what you need to do,” he answered. His back shifted as he moved, one hand reaching over to massage the stiff scar tissue on his left shoulder. He didn’t turn to look at me.
“Gideon.”
“I get it,” he answered, standing.
“Gideon, stop. I’m notleaving.It’s just—it’s a huge job! It would be enough to restart my business.”
He grabbed a T-shirt from the back of the armchair in the corner and pulled it on. His head popped through, and he ran a hand through his hair. He still hadn’t met my eyes. “It’s good,” he said. “I’m happy for you.”
My chest went cold as he walked out the door. I listened to him moving in the kitchen—the clink of a mug, the gurgle of the coffee machine, the scrape of a pan against the gas-fired range—and I fought against the panic that tried to build inside me.
This was his way out. Out of this marriage. Out of the contract that his grandmother had blackmailed him into. Now he could cut me loose and not feel bad about it, because I wouldn’t be homeless and destitute. This client would give me a cushion.
If he wanted me to stay, he’d tell me. But he just…walked away. He was icing me out. Taking his chance to dissolve this marriage that was more of an inconvenience to him than anything. Had he ever really wanted me? Or had this just been a distraction to him? After that awful night, had he realized we had no future?
It was so familiar I started to laugh. Yes, putting his dick in my vaginawasthat big a deal. How had I believed it wasn’t? How had I believed all his lovey-dovey words about just loving to make me orgasm? No one loved to make me orgasm! That wasn’t the way sex worked. That wasn’t the way relationships worked!
I had nothing to offer him, and now he was done.
Throat tight, I closed my eyes. I wasso sickof feeling insecure. But how could I help it, when I was hit with rejection every time I thought I found The One?
On soft feet, I padded to the kitchen. The toaster popped, and Gideon slid a buttered piece of toast and a mug of coffee toward me, then turned his back on me to fix his own breakfast. There was a huge lump in my throat, and I stared at the mug without seeing anything.
“When do you leave?” Gideon finally asked, and he turned to look at me. His expression was stony, his eyes cold.
I flinched. “I haven’t—I need to call the wedding coordinator and get more details.”
He nodded. “It’s probably the logical thing to do. We still don’t know who keyed your car and spray-painted the cottage. If you leave, the threats will stop.”
“Gideon, I’m not—” I frowned. “I’m notleaving. Unless…that’s what you want?” My voice squeaked on the question.
My husband’s expression didn’t change. Could I even call him my husband? We’d had a sham of a wedding ceremony, andthe wedding certificate was stashed away in Etta Mars’s home. It wasn’t real. Gideon had never actually wanted to file the certificate. He was just running out the clock so he could keep his business and his bachelorhood.
Gideon finally shrugged. “You need to do what’s best for you, Sadie. I’m not going to stop you.”
I stared at him, blinking. “What does that mean, exactly?”
His phone chimed. We both glanced at where it lay on the countertop, and Gideon reached over to grab it. Because of course he did. I mattered so little to him that he would use any excuse to get out of this conversation—out of my life.
Then he straightened, frowning, so I asked, “What is it?”
“Ida Gretzinger just texted,” he replied. “Two people booked into a room at The Pier last night, and this morning they’ve been asking about you. She said they just ordered breakfast so if we head over now, we can probably catch them before they leave.”
I didn’t want to go see who had come looking for me. I wanted to stay right here and talk to Gideon until we figured this out.
But what was there to figure out?
