I don’t let myself read anything into it. Instead, I text Rodrigo.
She said no.
Chapter 14
Valencia
Day 8: Blindfolds & the Rockettes
It’s Friday, my last day of work for the year, and I spend it dissecting my conversation with Gideon.
The small part of me that worried this was just a prolonged hate-fuck has been laid to rest. But when he asked what we were doing, all I could hear was Everett’s voice, saying shit like, “Why be in a relationship if you’re not going to make time for it?”
Sure, things are great with Gideonnow, but what happens in the new year when I’m neck-deep in projects again? Because it doesn’t matter how much I enjoy being with him, or thatmy heart skipped a beat when he said he liked me. Making a joke was easier than facing his earnest declaration or trying to continue this and realizing we can’t make it work.
But we have tickets tonight for the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, one of Gideon’s only holiday suggestions for our list. Even with my thoughts in turmoil, I’m looking forward to it.
For the occasion, I buy a long-sleeved wrap dress in emerald green velvet, a nod to the one I wore in eighth grade. I cover it up with my black wool coat and take the subway to meet Gideon at an Italian restaurant in Rockefeller Center.
When he sees me in the dress, his jaw goes slack. “God, look at you. Did you wear this for me?”
The rasp in his voice and his stunned expression make my pulse race.
“Maybe,” I say primly, taking the seat he’s pulled out. The hungry look he sends me has nothing to do with the scents of garlic and basil in the air.
Still, the meal is delicious, and after we leave, we stop to take selfies in front of Rockefeller Center’s eighty-foot Christmas tree.
Gideon stands behind me, his arms wrapped around my middle and his cheek pressed to mine. Even though my arms are far shorter than his, I extend one and hold my phone out to take the photo. With my other hand, I cup the side of his face.
“Smile.”
He does.
The photo is so perfect, it hurts.
“Send it to me,” he says, and then he catches my hand in his and pulls me down the sidewalk toward Radio City Music Hall.
I’ve never seen the Rockettes perform live, and the show is aptly named because it is indeed aspectacle. There’s dancing and singing, music and projections, and a whole lot of Santas. At one point, when I look over at Gideon, I could swear his eyes are glittering. But after it’s over and I ask him what he thought, all he says is, “A little cornier than I remembered. But the production was incredible, and the synchronization is truly impressive.”
I suspect the show affected him more than he’s letting on, so as we wait for our ride, I aim for irreverence.
“You should join the Rockettes.”
That jolts him out of his reverie. “I should what?”
“You heard me.” I poke his thigh. “They’re like a flock of beautiful flamingos, and you’d fit right in with these killer gams.”
Just as I hoped, he bursts into laughter, so I keep it up. “What’s it like having long legs? That’s not a joy I’ll ever experience.”
He gazes down at me with a fond smile. “I like your legs exactly as they are.”
I melt a little inside. “Right answer.”
The car brings us back to my place, where I pour us glasses of red wine. We sit on my sofa with Archie purring between us. Gideon has loosened his tie, but there’s tension in the lines of his face and the set of his broad shoulders.
I stretch my arm over the back of the couch and stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch.
“Was it difficult? Seeing the show?” A week ago I wouldn’t have asked, but I haven’t known him for a week, I’ve known him for sixteen years. And right now, I feel closer to him than anyone else in my life.
