“Good morning,” Gill says finally, acknowledging me fully now that Aveline's gone. “Did you sleep well?” I don't miss the twinkle in his eye, the slight twitch of his lips as he gives me a once-over that makes me shiver. There's approval in his gaze … and longing. I pretend not to notice, lifting my coffee to my lips and sipping it slowly before responding. I decide to be truthful again, even though it'd be a hell of a lot easier to lie.
“Perfectly. Best sleep I've had in years.” Gill nods like he's not surprised.
“Me, too,” he responds, moving towards me and pausing less than a foot away. “I'm not content unless you're there. I just realized that I haven't actually felt rested in ten years.” I swallow hard and look away for a second before glancing back up at my stepbrother's face.
There's warmth there, the passion that I missed so badly, that I never thought I'd see again. I can read love in his eyes, in the curve of his full lips, in the careful, considerate way he keeps his distance, waiting for me to close it. Gilleon is mine for the taking, waiting there like an apple dangling from a low branch. All I have to do is reach up and pluck it.
“I …” I'm having a hard time figuring out what to say, my emotions as jumbled as the spools of thread in Solène's room, all of those colors twisted and mixed and tangled. Some part of me that's been locked up for years, held prisoner by my melancholy and my longing, it's free now and I don't know what to do with it. “We still need to talk,” I blurt, and Gill nods. “Too bad we missed dinner last night. I had a great dress picked out.” Gill sucks in some breath between his teeth and stands stone-still, the darkness of the hallway like a blanket wrapping the two of us up tight together.
“I'm sorry I missed it,” he says, humor lacing his voice. I know he's happy right now; it doesn't take an expert to see that. I make him happy. Me. I do. I'm Gill's happiness, his ticket back into the light. “But don't fret too much. I was thinking we could go out on Friday?”
“Friday?” I ask, raising both brows. Today is Tuesday; Friday feels like forever away. “Why not tonight?” I try to sound casual as I ask. Pretty sure there's some eagerness creeping in there, too. Oh well. I want to go on a proper date with Gill, so sue me.
“I wish I could, mon cœur.” My heart flutters a little at that. It'd be so easy to fall back in with Gill, pick up where we left off. Not sure how I feel about that. “But … we're having some problems with Karl. I have to leave for a few days to deal with it.”
Goose bumps crawl across my skin but I nod, swallowing back some anxiety at the thought of Gill leaving, knowing how silly that is. If I'm already worried about him disappearing again, how can we ever make this work? And why do I want it to so badly?
I open my mouth to ask what kind of problems when Gill reaches up and curls his fingers around my upper arms, his thumbs teasing my bare skin into a heated frenzy in an instant. My breath catches; my lips part.
As if that's the invitation he's been waiting for, Gilleon leans in, brushing his mouth against mine, tasting me, drinking me in like it's been years since we last kissed instead of hours.
“I see you kids have made up.” Cliff's voice startles us both, and I almost spill my coffee all over Gilleon's shirt, fumbling with the mug as we step back from one another and glance up at the stairs. I can't see my stepfather's face, but he doesn't sound particularly happy about it. “Or rather, I heard that you made up.” I flush from head to toe again, letting my eyes flutter closed for a second to get control of myself.
“Good morning to you, too, Dad,” Gill says, reaching up and squeezing my arm once more before moving past me, back into the brightness of the kitchen and the heady allure of fresh caffeine. As if already anticipating an argument, Gill shuts his computer harder than he probably should and turns back to me, forcing his lips into a smile, just to show it's not me he's frustrated with.
“Papa,” I say as Cliff comes down the last few steps and breezes past me, fully dressed, lips only slightly pursed. God, please let this go well. I take a deep breath to gather myself and move after him, leaning against the archway and putting my coffee to my lips. “Please don't be upset.”
Cliff's busying himself with a cup of coffee, plopping a spoonful of sugar into his mug with a vengeance. Throughout it all, he's shaking his head like he's disappointed. That's a hard thing to take in, see, because he's been disappointed in Gilleon for a long, long time. I know this look is mostly for me, and it hurts.
“My son,” Cliff says, cutting to the chase and pointing at the man in question, “is a thief, Regina. He's a criminal. And he's a man who doesn't have his priorities straight. Yes, I know he's a good-looking man, and I know you've missed him all these years, but think of your daughter.”