“God, that’s forever.” Her heart sank. “Gideon will go insane if we have to wait days to even start talking about what they want.”
He shook his head. “That’s all the more reason to get as much sleep as possible. And keep in mind, they may not contact Gideon. They may reach out to Chris or Elizabeth instead. The police are prepared if so.”
“Oh…” She hadn’t considered that and wondered if Gideon had.
The clearing of a throat made them both look up to find a brunette in an NYPD polo shirt. “Hey, you two,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Hi,” Eva greeted her. “There’s fresh coffee.”
The woman’s face lit up. “I smelled that. Mind if I get a cup?”
“It’s all yours.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Eva looked at her dad. “All right, I’m done. You’re going to bed, too?”
He gave her a brisk nod. “Just as soon as you do. So, hurry up.”
“Okay, okay.” She left the kitchen and walked over to the French doors that opened to the wraparound terrace. As she stepped into the warm, humid air, Eva took a moment for a deep breath. The trumpet honeysuckle winding around the pergola over their outdoor dining table was in late-summer rebloom, and the glass terrace railing was lined with colorful glazed pots spilling over with flowers. The caress of the fragrant breeze across her skin distracted her from her spiraling thoughts.
As she came up beside Gideon, she ran her hand down his back, then gave Lucky a kiss atop his velvety head. The beagle’s returning lick left a wet trail on her cheek that quickly cooled in the early morning air. Central Park stretched alongside their Upper East Side penthouse, a rectangular void in the midst of the sparkling city. Its transverse roads wound like glowing snakes through the darkness, while its reservoir glittered with shimmering reflected light.
Turning away from the view, she faced her husband. He was backlit by the bright lights inside, a tall and tormented shadow rendered in black and white against the deep wood tones, jeweled antique rugs, and gilded décor of their penthouse. Tears glistened in his eyes like the water below them.
She held out her hand to him. “Come on. Let’s rinse off the day and crawl into bed. We have a battle to fight, and we can’t do it in this state.”
“I can’t be groggy when they call.”
“You won’t be,” she promised. “You’ve always run on less sleep than the rest of us mortals. And when something’s important, your laser focus kicks in. That won’t fail you now.”
The look he gave her conveyed so many emotions at once. “I should sleep in the guestroom.”
Her brows went up. “So you canpretendto go to sleep? I don’t think so, ace.”
“So I don’t do something in my sleep that we’ll both regret,” he countered flatly.
“Oh…” It didn’t seem possible that she could hurt worse, but she was discovering new depths of pain. “Gideon…you haven’t had an episode in years. Even when we’ve had some rough nights, they haven’t retriggered your parasomnia.”
“I’m more tired now. Less in control.”
She sighed, then stepped into him, wrapping her arms around him and Lucky both. Atypical sexual parasomnia was the clinical term their therapist used to describe the night terrors that once wreaked havoc with Gideon’s sleep, making it physically dangerous at times to sleep beside him. Years of individual and couples counseling had helped them both to address the trauma from his childhood—a trauma she shared but coped with differently—and to lessen its effect on their lives.
“My dad said it’s the waiting that makes us overthink.” Eva cupped his cheek. The early morning breeze brushed the silky strands of his black hair across the back of her hand. Fancifully, it felt as if he were reaching out to her in the only way he’d allow himself to. “Lucky will wake you up if you need it, or I will. And as much as this situation feels outside of your control, you’ve gained control over yourself. I trust you, even if you don’t.”
Turning his head, he pressed a kiss into her palm. “You’ve always been overly optimistic about me.”
“And look what that’s given me? Twelve amazing years with the love of my life. Why stop now? Besides, my dad took the guestroom, so you’re either sleeping with him or me.”
Closing his eyes for a minute, Gideon took a long, deep breath. “I wouldn’t worry about injuring him. He can still give me hell if he wanted to.”
“Which he doesn’t,” she said briskly, “so guess I win by default. Let’s go.”
Linking her arm with his, Eva turned him around and steered him back into the condo. She saw his gaze fall to the letters on the dining table, then lift to scan the many people scattered about the open-concept living areas. When his steps slowed, she gave a slight tug to keep him moving. They took the long hallway to their primary suite.
“Let’s leave the lights off,” she told him as they entered the room, before he could command their AI assistant to turn the lamps on. She sighed with exhaustion as she closed the door behind them.
The room was drenched in semi-darkness, the only illumination the moonlight shining through the large windows. When they’d first met, the suite had been dominated by a sleigh bed of dark wood. She’d lightened the palette over the years, switching to a padded upholstered headboard for comfort while they watched television in bed.
