My eyes follow Gill as he splits the water open with his powerful arms, hands diving into the sparkling blue of the pool while he swims laps. His dark hair is even more beautiful with the water as a backdrop, keeping my attention well after I should've looked away.
“Shit,” I whisper under my breath, forcing myself to crack open my book and read the first line. I have to read it four times before it makes sense. My mind's too scattered, too full of thoughts, of questions, of Gilleon Marchal. The whisper and splash of his swimming draws my eyes up again, right to those perfectly sculpted muscles in his back, to the speed and power with which he moves his body. Gilleon reaches the end yet again, flips and kicks off the side, twisting his form under the water with a fluidity that I can only envy. He's always been comfortable in his body, in charge of it, in a way that most people just aren't; it's mesmerizing.
I lean my head back and close my eyes, wondering vaguely what Mathis might be up to back in Paris. The poor guy. He was only trying to defend me and I left him there like he meant nothing, too caught up in my own world to wonder what was going to happen to his when I left. Gill promised me that he had one of his guys take Mathis back to his apartment and leave him on the bed. But what did Mathis do when he woke up? Did he go straight to the authorities? And then what happened when they told him that Karl Rousseau, the owner of the shop, denied ever having a break-in?
Ugh.
I've been surviving by pushing all of the details from my mind, drifting along with the flow and hoping it'll all work out. It's a coping mechanism, sure, but it only makes me more determined to find out what this was all for. I need Gill to look me in the eye and lay it all out there. It's the only way I'm going to be able to keep going, to move past whatever sort of emotional shock I'm still in, and get back to normal.
I open my eyes again and glance over my shoulder at the wall of windows behind me, at the splatter of wet, cold rain that pings off the glass, the spread of evergreen trees that line the parking lot, giving the area an almost parklike feel. It's so dark out right now that they look like living shadows, twisting and turning and dancing in the wind.
When I turn back to the pool, I see the last guy here, some skinny blonde, climb out and grab his towel, disappearing from the room and leaving me alone with Gill.
I suck in a deep breath, tasting chlorine on the back of my tongue, and try to breathe out slow. Tonight, we're going to play cards and watch a movie, figure out how to sleep so close but not touch, and then get back to business tomorrow. I need to take a more active role in all of this; I realize that now.
“I can do anything I put my mind to,” I whisper, flipping through the pages of my book and letting the paper brush my fingers. “I will use this experience to become a better person.” I stare at the door, waiting to see if anyone else is going to come in, but it seems pretty dead in here tonight. Besides, it's almost time for the pool to close. I'm probably safe if I want to keep talking to myself. “I will not allow myself to be seduced by Gilleon, simply because he's attractive.” I swallow hard. “I'm also going to try to stop lying to myself. From now on, I'm going to be nothing but truthful.”
Unfortunately, sometimes the truth hurts.
I'm swimming laps—or at least I'm trying to. I'm not very good at it, but I need something to do, somewhere to go. Even with a brand-new baby, I don't have a sense of purpose, don't feel like I have a reason to get up in the morning. I'm starting to hate myself for it, and that's not healthy at all. When Cliff suggested I find a class or something to sign up for, I ended up here.
I like it best at night, when moonlight leaks in the skylights above. I know the night manager, so when it's a particularly slow evening, she lets me turn off the lights and swim in darkness. I'm also supposed to wear a swim cap, but I can't stand them, so she lets me get away sans cap, too.
I wonder in the back of my mind what Cliff's doing with the baby. Is he holding her? Singing to her? Feeding her? Why am I not there helping? When am I going to get myself together?
It's been a year since Gilleon left. A whole fucking year. And I haven't heard a word from him. He's called Cliff a time or two, just to let him know that he's safe, but he won't talk to me, even if I beg. I can see the pity in my stepfather's eyes, and it's starting to get to me. Am I pathetic? Does everyone think that about me?
I duck my head under the water to wash away the tears and stay there.
I'm so tired of feeling sorry for myself, of feeling like my life's been derailed and there's nothing I can do to get the train back on the tracks. I let Gill's and my apartment go, moved back in with Cliff, even let him be the parent to my baby. I have no job right now; I have nothing.