One with You

“How are you both doing?” Dr. Petersen asked, as we all three took our seats.

Gideon and I sat on the couch, as usual, while Dr. Petersen settled into his armchair and picked up his tablet.

“We’re better than ever,” I answered.

My husband said nothing, but he reached over and took my hand, pulling it over to rest on his thigh.

“I received an invitation to your reception.” Dr. Petersen smiled. “My wife and I are very much looking forward to it.”

I hadn’t been able to convince my mom to include even the tiniest bit of red on the invites, but I thought they were pretty all the same. We’d agreed on a vellum invitation, tucked into a sheer pocket, with an exterior white envelope for mailing and privacy. It gave me butterflies thinking of them being received. We were another step closer to putting the fa?ade of an engagement behind us.

“Me, too.” I leaned my shoulder against Gideon’s and he put his arm around me.

“The last time we met,” Dr. Petersen said, “you’d just quit your job, Eva. How has that been?”

“Easier than I thought. I’ve been busy, though, so that helps.”

“Helps with what?”

I considered my answer. “From feeling aimless. I’m busier now. And I’m working on things that actually make a difference in my life.”

“Such as?”

“The wedding, of course. And moving into the penthouse, which I’m doing in baby steps. And planning some renovations, which I’d like to talk about.”

“Of course.” He studied me. “Let’s talk about those baby steps first. Is there any significance to that?”

“Well, just that I’m not doing it all at once. It’s ongoing.”

“Do you view it as a way to ease into the commitment? Previously, you’ve acted very decisively. Eloping. Separating. Quitting your job.”

That made me think. “It’s a transition that affects Gideon and Cary as much as it does me.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Gideon interjected, “the sooner she’s moved in, the better.”

“I’m just being careful.” I shrugged.

Dr. Petersen scrawled across his tablet screen, taking notes. “Is Cary having difficulty adjusting?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He’s not acting like he is. But I worry. He falls into bad habits without support.”

“Do you have any thoughts about that, Gideon?”

He kept his tone neutral. “I knew what I was getting into when I married her.”

“Always a good thing.” Dr. Petersen smiled. “But that doesn’t tell me much.”

Gideon’s hand lifted from my shoulder and went to my hair, playing with it. “As a married man yourself, Doctor, you know there are concessions a husband makes to keep the peace. Cary is one of mine.”

That hurt me to hear, but I understood Cary had started out with a clean slate with Gideon. Then he’d made several wrong moves—like having group sex in our living room one night—that put marks against him.

Dr. Petersen looked at me. “So you’re attempting to balance the needs of both your husband and your best friend. Is that stressful?”

“It’s not fun,” I hedged, “but it’s not really balancing, either. My marriage—and Gideon—comes first.”

I could tell Gideon liked hearing that when his hand fisted gently—possessively—in my hair.

“But,” I continued, “I don’t want to overwhelm Gideon and I don’t want Cary to feel abandoned. Moving a small bag of stuff over every day makes the change gradual.”

Once the thought was out, I had to admit how maternal that sounded. Still, I couldn’t help wanting to protect those in my life who needed it, especially from pain my own actions might cause.

“You’ve mentioned everyone but you,” he pointed out. “How do you feel?”

“The penthouse is starting to feel like home. The only thing I’m struggling with is our sleeping arrangements. We’ve been sharing a bed, but Gideon wants us to sleep separately and I don’t.”

“Because of the nightmares?” Dr. Petersen asked, his gaze on Gideon.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Have you had any lately?”

My husband nodded. “Not the really bad ones.”

“What constitutes a really bad nightmare? One that you act out physically?”

Gideon’s chest expanded on a deep breath. “Yes.”

The doctor looked at me again. “You understand the risk, Eva, but you still want to share a bed with Gideon.”

“Yes, of course.” My heartbeat quickened at the memories. Gideon had pinned me down viciously, ugly words of pain and fury spilling out in terrible threats of violence.

In the grip of a nightmare, Gideon didn’t see me, he saw Hugh—a man he wanted to tear apart with his bare hands.