“Mrs. Vidal called Gideon.”

“Of course she did.” He looked over to the seating area. “One would think he was her husband and not I.”

I followed his gaze. Gideon was crouched in front of Corinne’s parents, holding her mother’s hand. A sick feeling of dread spread through me, making me cold.

“She would rather be dead than live without him,” he said tonelessly.

I looked back at him. Suddenly, I understood. “You told her, didn’t you? About our engagement.”

“And look how well she took the news.”

Jesus. I took a shaky step toward the wall, needing the support. How could she not know what a suicide attempt would do to Gideon? She couldn’t be that blind. Or had his reaction, his guilt, been her aim all along? It made me sick to think of anyone being that manipulative, but there was no denying the result. Gideon was back at her side. At least for now.

A doctor entered the room, a kind-looking woman with cropped silvery blond hair and faded blue eyes. “Mr. Giroux?”

“Oui.” Jean-Fran?ois stepped forward.

“I’m Dr. Steinberg. I’m treating your wife. Could we speak privately for a moment?”

Corinne’s father stood. “We’re her family.”

Dr. Steinberg smiled gently. “I understand. However, it’s Corinne’s husband I need to speak with. I can tell you that Corinne will be fine after a few days’ rest.”

She and Giroux stepped out of the room, which effectively cut off the sound of their voices, but they were still visible through a glass wall. Giroux towered over the much shorter doctor, but whatever she said to him had him crumbling visibly. The tension in the waiting room ratcheted up to an unbearable degree. Gideon stood beside his mother, his attention snared by the heartrending scene unfolding before us.

Dr. Steinberg reached out and placed a hand on Jean-Fran?ois’s arm, still speaking. After a moment, she stopped and left him. He just stood there, staring at the floor, his shoulders slumped as if a great weight pressed down on them.

I was about to go to him, when Gideon moved first. The moment he stepped outside the waiting room, Giroux lunged at him.

The thud as the two men collided was teeth-rattling in its violence. The room shook as Gideon slammed into the thick glass wall.

Someone shouted in surprise, then yelled for security.

Gideon threw Giroux off and blocked a punch. Then he ducked, avoiding a blow to the face. Jean-Fran?ois bellowed something, his face contorted with fury and pain.

Corinne’s father rushed out at the same moment security arrived with stun guns drawn and aimed. Gideon shoved Jean-Fran?ois off again, defending himself without once throwing a punch of his own. His face was stony, his eyes cold and nearly as lifeless as Giroux’s.

Giroux shouted at Gideon. With the door left open by Corinne’s father, I caught part of what was said. The word enfant needed no translation. Everything inside me went deathly still, all sound lost to the buzzing in my ears.

Everyone rushed out of the room as both Gideon and Giroux were flex-cuffed and hustled toward a service elevator by the guards. I blinked when Angus appeared in the doorway, certain I was imagining him.

“Mrs. Cross,” he said softly, approaching me carefully with his cap in his hands.

I could only imagine how I looked. I was stuck on the word baby and what that could possibly mean. After all, Corinne had been in New York as long as I’d known Gideon … but her husband hadn’t been.

“I’ve come to take you home.”

I frowned. “Where’s Gideon?”

“He texted me and asked me to come get you.”

My confusion turned into a sharp pain. “But he needs me.”

Angus took a deep breath, his eyes filled with something that looked like pity. “Come with me, Eva. It’s late.”

“He doesn’t want me here,” I said flatly, latching on to the one thing I was beginning to comprehend.

“He wants you home and comfortable.”

My feet felt rooted to the floor. “Is that what the text said?”

“That’s what he’s thinking.”

“You’re being kind.” I started to walk, running on autopilot.

I passed one of the orderlies picking up the mess made when Giroux had been shoved into a cart of supplies. The way he avoided looking at me seemed to confirm the harsh reality.

I’d been set aside.

22

GIDEON DIDN’T COME home that night. When I checked his apartment on my way out to work, I found the beds neatly made.

Wherever he’d spent the night, it hadn’t been near me. After the revelation of Corinne’s pregnancy, I was stunned that I’d been left on my own with no explanation. I felt like this huge bomb had exploded in front of me and I was left standing in the rumble, alone and confused.

Angus and the Bentley were waiting for me downstairs when I stepped outside. Irritation simmered. Every time Gideon pulled away from me, he sent Angus in as a surrogate.

“I should’ve married you, Angus,” I muttered, as I slid into the backseat. “You’re always there for me.”

“Gideon makes sure of it,” he said, before shutting the door.

Always loyal, I thought bitterly.

When I got to work and learned that Megumi was still out sick, I was equally concerned about her and relieved for me. It wasn’t like her to miss work—she was always at her desk early—so the repeated absences told me something was really wrong with her. But not having her there meant she couldn’t catch my mood and ask questions I didn’t want to answer. Couldn’t answer, actually. I had no idea where my husband was, what he was doing or feeling.

And I was angry and hurt about it. The one thing I wasn’t was scared. Gideon was right about marriage fostering a settled feeling. I had a grip on him he’d have to work to break. He couldn’t just disappear or ignore me forever. No matter what, he would have to deal with me at some point. The only question was: When?

Focusing on work, I willed the hours to rush by. When I got off at five, I still hadn’t heard from Gideon and I hadn’t reached out to him, either. As far as I was concerned, he needed to bridge the gap he’d created between us.

I headed to my Krav Maga class after work, where Parker worked one-on-one with me for an hour.

“You’re on fire tonight,” he said, when I threw him to the mat for the sixth or seventh time.

I didn’t tell him I was imagining Gideon in his place.

When I got home, I found Cary and Trey hanging out in the living room. They were eating torpedo sandwiches and watching a comedy show.

“We’ve got plenty,” Trey said, pushing half of his sandwich toward me. “There’s beer in the fridge, too.”

He was a great guy, with an awesome personality to match. And he loved my best friend. I looked at Cary and for a second, he let me see his confusion and pain. Then he hid it behind his bright, gorgeous smile. He patted the cushion next to him. “Come sit, baby girl.”

“Sure,” I agreed, partly because I couldn’t bear the thought of being alone in my room with my thoughts driving me crazy. “Just let me take a shower first.”

Once I was freshly scrubbed and cozy in worn sweats, I joined the two men on the couch. I brooded over getting a “not found” error when I tried to track Gideon’s smartphone with the instructions he’d given me.

I ended up sleeping in the living room, preferring the couch to a bed that might smell like my missing husband.

I woke up to the smell of him anyway, and the feel of his arms around me as he lifted me. Weary, I rested my head against Gideon’s chest and listened to the sound of his heart beating strong and sure. He carried me to my bedroom.

“Where have you been?” I muttered.

“California.”

I jolted. “What?”

He shook his head. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Gideon …”

“In the morning, Eva,” he said sternly, putting me to bed and pressed a rough kiss to my forehead.

I caught his wrist as he straightened. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

“I haven’t slept in damn near two days.” There was an edge to his voice that set off alarms.

Pushing onto my elbows, I tried to see his face in the semidarkness, but it was too hard and I was still trying to shrug off sleep. I could tell he was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and that was about it. “So? Got a bed right here.”

He heaved out an exasperated, weary breath. “Lie down. I’ll get my prescription.”

It wasn’t until he’d been gone too long that I remembered he kept a bottle of his pills in my bathroom. He’d left for no other reason than to leave. I shoved the blankets off me and stumbled out of the room, making my way through my darkened living room to find my keys. I went to Gideon’s apartment and let myself in, nearly tripping over a suitcase left carelessly by the door.

He must have taken just enough time to drop it off before coming to me. And yet he hadn’t intended to spend the night in my bed. Why had he come? Just to see me sleep? To check up on me?

Fuck. Would I ever understand him?

I searched for him and found him sprawled facedown on the master bed, his head on my pillow and his clothes still on. His boots lay a few feet apart from each other at the end of the bed, as if he’d kicked them off in a rush, and his smartphone and wallet were tossed on the nightstand.

The phone was irresistible.

I picked it up, typed in angel as the password, and scrolled through it without shame. If he caught me doing it, I wouldn’t care. If he wasn’t going to give me answers, I had every right to search for them myself.

The last thing I expected to find were so many pictures of me in his photo album. There were dozens: some of us together taken by paparazzi, others that he’d taken with his phone when I was unaware. Candid shots that afforded me the opportunity to see myself through his eyes.

I stopped worrying. He loved me. Adored me. No man could take the pictures he did of me otherwise, with messy hair and no makeup, doing nothing more interesting than reading something or standing in front of an open refrigerator contemplating what I wanted. Pictures of me sleeping and eating and frowning in concentration … Boring, commonplace things.