Entwined with You(99)

“Thank you, Angus. You’ve taken good care of him for a long time.”


He smiled, his eyes glistening as he turned to Gideon. He said something so heavily accented by his Scottish heritage, I couldn’t be sure it was any form of English at all. Whatever it was, it made Gideon’s eyes shine, too. How much of a surrogate father had Angus been to Gideon over the years? I would always be grateful to him for giving Gideon support and affection when he desperately needed it.


We cut a small cake and toasted with champagne on the terrace of our suite. We signed the register the reverend offered and were given our certificate of marriage to sign as well. Gideon’s fingers brushed over it reverently.


“Is this what you needed?” I teased him. “This piece of paper?”


“I need you, Mrs. Cross.” He pulled me close. “I wanted this.”


Angus took both the certificate and prenup with him when he made himself scarce. Both had been duly notarized by the hotel manager and would end up wherever Gideon kept such things.


As for Gideon and me, we ended up in the cabana, tangled naked with each other. We sipped chilled champagne, touched each other playfully and greedily, and kissed lazily as the day crawled by.


That was perfect, too.


“So, how are we handling this when we get back?” I asked him, as we ate a candlelit dinner in the dining room of our suite. “The whole we-ran-off-and-got-hitched explanation.”


Gideon shrugged and licked melted butter off his thumb. “However you want.”


I pulled the meat out of a crab leg and considered the options. “I want to tell Cary for sure. And I think my dad will be okay with it. I kind of talked around it when I called him earlier and he told me you’d asked him, so he’s prepared. I don’t think Stanton will care much either way, no offense.”


“None taken.”


“I’m worried about my mom, though. Things are already rough between us. She’ll be totally stoked that we’re married”—I paused a minute, absorbing that for the millionth time—“but I don’t want her to think that I left her out because I’m mad at her.”


“Let’s just tell her and everyone else we’re engaged.”


I dunked the crabmeat into drawn butter, thinking I wanted to get very used to seeing Gideon shirtless and sated and relaxed. “She’ll have a conniption if we live together before the wedding.”


“Well, then she’ll have to plan fast,” he said dryly. “You’re my wife, Eva. I don’t care if anyone else knows it or not, I know it. And I want to come home to you, have coffee in the morning with you, zip up the back of your dresses, and unzip them at night.”


Watching him snap a crab leg with his hands, I asked, “Will you wear a wedding band?”


“I’m looking forward to it.”


That made me smile. He paused and stared at me.


“What?” I prompted, when he didn’t say anything. “Do I have butter splashed on my face?”


He sat back with a deep exhalation. “You’re beautiful. I love looking at you.”


I felt my face heat. “You’re not so bad yourself.”


“It’s starting to go away,” he murmured.


My smile faded. “What? What’s going away?”


“The … worry. It feels safe, doesn’t it?” He sipped his wine. “Settled. It’s a good feeling. I like it. A lot.”


I hadn’t had as much time to get used to the idea of being married, but as I sat back and really thought about it, I had to agree. He was mine. No one could doubt it now. “I like it, too.”


He lifted my hand to his lips. The ring he’d given me caught the candlelight and glimmered with multihued fire. It was a tastefully large Asscher-cut diamond in a vintage setting. I loved the timeless sophistication of it, but more so because it was the ring his father had married his mother with.


Even though Gideon was deeply wounded by his parents’ betrayals, their time together as a family of three was the last true happiness he remembered before meeting me.


And he swore he wasn’t romantic.


He caught me admiring the ring. “You like it.”


“I do.” I looked at him. “It’s one of a kind. I was thinking we could do something unusual with our home, too.”


“Oh?” He squeezed my hand and resumed eating.


“I understand the need to sleep apart, but I don’t like having doors and walls between us.”


“I don’t, either, but your safety comes first.”


“How about a master suite with two bedrooms connected by a bathroom with no doors. Just archways or passageways. So technically, we’re still in the same open space.”


He considered that a minute, then nodded. “Draw it up and we’ll bring in a designer to make it happen. We’ll continue staying on the Upper West Side for now while we have the penthouse refinished. Cary can take a look at the adjoining one-bedroom apartment and make any changes he wants at the same time.”


I rubbed my bare foot along the back of his calf as a thank-you. The sounds of music drifted in on the evening wind, reminding me that we weren’t alone on a deserted island.