Page 50 of Gideon's Gratitude

As Gideon prattled on about cheese-to-milk ratio, I let the words wash over me. The man was adorable when flustered. Last night, during the heated argument, he stood his ground. Today he was flitting here and there. Well, flitting was the wrong verb. He moved deliberately and, if I didn’t miss my mark, with some pain. But he hummed like a hummingbird. With pent-up energy.

“Are you all right?”

“Hmm?” He looked up as he stirred the macaroni with milk and shredded cheese. Orange cheddar—my favorite.

“You seem distracted.”

The man pressed a finger to his temple. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. I have a video chat with the kids at three, and then an appointment at five. Staying focused is hard, you know? Well, of course you don’t know. You’re laser focused. You’d have to be.”

I didn’t see the correlation but let it go. “You’re going to see your kids. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” More stirring. “Trevor has a hard time paying attention. Melodie just keeps asking me when I’m coming home. I know Leo’s told them I won’t be, but they don’t understand. They can’t comprehend how they can see me but that I’m not really there. Or that they’ll never see me in person again.”

“Never is a long time.”

Gideon shot me anI get thatlook. “Leo’s the immovable object. As long as he says no, then it’s no.”

“What’s the appointment?” Time to pivot.

For which I was rewarded with an exasperated sigh. “I called a counselor. A therapist. A psychologist. Or something.”

How am I supposed to respond to that?

Apparently I didn’t need to, because Gideon just kept right on going. “And I don’t want to be doing this because I don’t think I need help. I mean, I know I had a problem, but I’m past it, and Leo will never believe me. And since he’s the one who suggested I go, I figure I’d better, right? But is this going to help me? I doubt it. And will Leo suddenly trust me if I see a counselor? Doubtful. More money spent on something that is probably going to be a dud.”

“And yet you’re going.”

More stirring. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

“You said money was an issue.”

Gideon rubbed his forehead. “Money’s always an issue.” He waved it off. “None of your concern.”

Again, how easy would it be to whip out my check book and cut a check? I’d never notice. Or if I could figure out where he banked, perhaps I could arrange an inter-account transfer.

I wouldn’t do it, though. The man was prideful. As was I. Took one to know one.

“If your appointment is at five, how will you get home? Won’t it be dark?”

Gideon cursed under his breath. “Fuck my life.”

Not a word that often passed my mouth, even at the worst of times. “Look, I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll drive you. I’m certain there’ll be a waiting room. I can work on my phone or listen to a podcast. Law Review dropped a new one yesterday I’ve been interested in listening to.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

The man’s plaintive tone triggered something deep within me. I rose and slowly advanced. When I got closer, I stooped my shoulders so our gazes met at the same level. “You didn’t ask. I offered. Least I can do since you’ve entertained me today. You won’t let me pay you.”

A scowl.

“You won’t accept my thanks in anything other than a perfunctory manner.”

The scowl deepened.

“So let me do this for you. No skin off my nose. And if you want to thank me…feed me dinner.” Hopefully I wouldn’t add too much to his food budget. I could slide a few twenties under the cutlery in the drawer and then he’d think he’d been forgetful.

Hopefully.

“You want more of my cooking?”

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