Page 31 of Tempting Devil
“In retrospect, I think I knew from the second he helped me after I was stung by a jellyfish, but the moment I allowed him to see the real me solidified it. That’s the mark of real love. Not sending flowers or buying jewelry or romantic dinners. Acknowledging one’s past and accepting it as if it’s your own? There’s no greater gift. Lachlan’s done that from the beginning, even when I was too stubborn to admit it.”
With a sideways glance, she studied my reaction to her words with intense scrutiny. “And something about the way I saw you interact with Gideon makes me think he’s done that, too.”
Memories of our short time together flooded back.
From the first time I noticed him during one of my morning runs, the way the heat of his stare sent a shiver down my spine. To the first time I spoke with him when I asked him to watch Gertie, my surfboard. To when I was nearly killed in that alley and he came to my rescue. To him showing up at the hospital with a change of clothes. To his surprise birthday gift of a dress I’d been fawning over, along with a day at the spa with Melanie. To our stolen moments during my birthday party when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. To finally allowing myself to open my heart again after losing Samuel.
To the moment Gideon opened himself to me, allowing me to see all his scars, both inside and out.
To the moment I allowed him to see all my scars, too, both inside and out.
To him accepting them as his, just as I did.
Maybe it was fate, like the barista at The Daily Grind stated. Maybe there wasn’t anything nefarious about our meeting. Maybe he simply saw me and felt the same inexplicable pull I had.
“I’m not saying it’s always going to be easy,” Mom cut through, her voice tender and understanding. “Unfortunately, you grew up thinking you could trust a man who ended up betraying that trust in the worst way imaginable. It’s only natural for you to always wait for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. I still struggle with it myself, even though Lachlan and I have been married for over a decade. The key is to find someone who understands your fears, your past, but still embraces them all the same. But you have to let him embrace them.”
As I listened to her words, my lips lifted in the corners, my brain no longer clouded with any deceitful reason for why Gideon would want to be with me. Instead, all I could think about were the incredible things he’d done for me. Did he have his faults? Of course. But so did I.
“Based on that smile, I’m guessing Gideon’s done that.”
“He’s repeatedly told me that my time with Samuel made me into the woman I am today. That he’s falling for that woman. And what do I do?” I blew out a soft laugh, silently berating myself for my behavior. “Accuse him of being my dead boyfriend, all because Samuel’s fingerprints, in all probability, were left on that glass when he was alive. Why can’t I just enjoy this, instead of finding a reason to doubt him at every turn?” I asked rhetorically, but my mom didn’t take it that way.
Or maybe she saw it as another opportunity to give me advice.
“Because that’s what you’re still hard-wired to do after living with a narcissistic sociopath for the first several years of your life.” She placed her hand over mine once more, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t let him win. Don’t let him still have this control over you. You know what they say, don’t you? About the best form of revenge?”
I nodded. “Living well.”
“That’s right. It’s time for you to live well, Imogene. Regardless of whether that includes a certain tall, dark, and handsome man or not. But I have a feeling it does.” She winked.
“Maybe,” I replied mischievously.
“On that note…” She scooted off the barstool with effortless grace. “I need the ladies’ room. Take it from me. Getting old sucks. I feel like I have to pee every twenty minutes, thanks to you.”
“You love me,” I sang.
She wrapped her arms around me, kissing my cheek. “More than anything.” She gave me one last squeeze, then released me, making her way through the bar and toward the ladies’ room.
As I continued to sip on my drink, my eyes went to my phone. I hadn’t spoken to Gideon since our argument, but I needed to let him know I felt horrible. At least until I could tell him in person.
Grabbing my phone, I navigated to my most recent text exchange with Gideon and started typing.
Me:
I don’t expect you to respond, and you don’t have to. I know I fucked up, and I own that.
I still have a hard time wondering what someone like you could see in me, so I jump to ridiculous conclusions, like accusing you of being my boyfriend who’s somehow managed to come back from the dead.
Which is impossible.
He’s gone.
I know that.
Long story short, I still have trust issues. I’m not making excuses. That’s not the purpose of this message. I just want you to know that I’m sorry.
I get that apologizing in a text is lame, but until I can do it face-to-face, if you even want to see me again after the way I treated you, this will have to do.