Reflected in You: A Crossfire Novel

tugging at the thigh-length hem of my shirt because I felt self-conscious.
    “Get me a glass of whatever you’re drinking.” He reached around me and picked up the menu I’d set out on the counter. “I’ll order. What do you want?”
    It was a relief to move over to the cabinet that held the wineglasses. “Soup. Crusty bread.”
    As I tugged the cork out of the bottle of merlot I had left on the counter, I heard him call the deli and speak in that firm, raspy voice of his that I loved from the moment I’d first heard it. He ordered tomato soup and chicken noodle, which caused a painful tightness in my chest. Without being told, he’d ordered what I wanted. It was another of the many serendipitous things that always made me feel like we were destined to end up in the same place, together, if only we could make it that far.
    I passed him the glass I’d poured for him and watched as he took a drink. He looked tired, and I wondered if he’d stayed up all night like I had.
    Lowering the glass, he licked the lingering trace of wine off his lips. “I went to your place looking for you. I expect Cary told you.”
    I rubbed at the painful ache in my chest. “I’m sorry . . . about this and—” I gestured at what I was wearing. “Damn it. I didn’t plan this well.”
    He leaned back into the counter and crossed one ankle over the other. “Go on.”
    “I figured you’d be home. I should’ve called first. When you weren’t here, I should have just waited for another time instead of making myself at home.” I rubbed at my stinging eyes. “I’m . . . confused about what’s going on. I’m not thinking straight.”
    His chest expanded on a deep breath. “If you’re waiting for me to break up with you, you can stop waiting.”
    I grabbed onto the kitchen island to steady myself. That’s it? That’s the end?
    “I can’t do it,” he said flatly. “I can’t even say I’ll let you walk, if that’s why you’re here.”
    What? I frowned in confusion. “You left your key at my place.”
    “I want it back.”
    “Gideon.” My eyes closed and tears tracked down my cheeks. “You’re an ass.”
    I walked away, moving toward my bedroom with a quick and slightly weaving stride that had nothing to do with the small amount of wine I’d sipped.
    I had scarcely cleared the doorway of my room when he grabbed my elbow.
    “I won’t follow you inside,” he said gruffly, his head bent to reach my ear. “I promised you that. But I’m asking you to stay and talk to me. At least listen. You came all this way—”
    “I have something for you.” It was hard for me to get the words past my tight throat.
    He released me and I hurried to my purse. When I faced him, I asked, “Were you breaking up with me when you left the key on my counter?”
    He filled the doorway. His hands were extended above his shoulders, his knuckles white from the force with which he gripped the frame, as if he were physically restraining himself from following me. The pose displayed his body beautifully, defining every muscle, allowing the drawstring waistband of his pants to cling to his hip bones. I wanted him with every breath I took.
    “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead,” he admitted. “I just wanted you to feel safe.”
    My grip tightened around the object in my hand. “You ripped my heart out, Gideon. You have no idea what seeing that key lying there did to me. How bad it hurt me. No idea.”
    His eyes squeezed shut and his head bowed. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I thought I was doing the right thing—”
    “Fuck that. Fuck your damn chivalry or whatever the hell you think that was. Don’t do it again.” My voice took on an edge. “I’m telling you right now and I mean it like I’ve never meant anything before—you ever give me my keys back again, we’re done. There’s no coming back from that. Do you understand?”
    “I do, yes. I’m not sure you do.”
    My breath left me in a shaky exhalation. I approached him. “Give me your hand.”
    His left hand stayed on the doorjamb, but his right lowered and extended toward me.
    “I never gave you the key to my place; you just took it.” I cupped his hand between both of mine, placing my gift in his palm. “I’m giving it to you now.”
    Stepping back, I released him, watching as he looked down at the gleaming monogrammed fob with my apartment key on it. It was the best way I could think of to show him that it belonged to him and that it was given