Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
In the end I was waitlisted at Harvard but granted admission into both Yale and Princeton.
My papa was exceedingly proud.
He should be proud now, too, once he learns the identity of the mystery man, I’m bringing to dinner tonight. I’ve chosen an amazing guy to be my boyfriend, a kind, clever, successful, honorable person, who adores me. What more could any parent want for their child? If the only thing “wrong” with Gideon is our age gap, well, isn’t that a minor factor compared to all the ways we’re good together?
We are good, so, so good…
Walking hand in hand with him, through the city streets of my childhood neighborhood, my chest fills with a warm ache. Never in my wildest, most romantic dreams did I think I’d find a man who looks at me like this, like I’m a treasure he can’t believe he’s found and never wants to lose. I didn’t see that on my father’s face when he looked at my mother or reflected in any of my friends’ parents’ relationships. I never even saw it in my friend group until Ben and Noelle fell in love.
Love like this—fearless, shameless love—is rare. Precious.
As we wait for the crosswalk to turn green across the street from Benedict’s red-and-gold-striped awning, I squeeze Gideon’s hand.
He glances down at me and arches a brow. “Ready?”
“Ready. We’ve got this.”
“You’ve got this,” he counters. “I plan on letting you take the lead. I want Silas to know this is your call and what you believe will make you happy. If I had a daughter, that would be the most important thing to me.”
If he had a daughter…
The words bring the only reservation I have about getting in deeper with Gideon bobbing to the surface. Is he open to having more children? Even after last night, I’m still hesitant to ask. Saying you love someone and want to move in with them is one thing. Asking them if they might want to knock you up one day and live happily ever after with three or four kids is quite another.
Babies are the ultimate escalation and Gideon’s son is already grown. He might not want more children. Or he might want to wait until we’re together for several years first, which raises concerns for me.
I’m in no big hurry to start a family, but I wouldn’t want to wait too long. Gideon’s already almost forty and I want my kids to have a father for as long as possible. Having lost a parent as a child myself, I know how hard that is.
But now isn’t the time to have that discussion. Even if I wanted to, we’re already stepping into the warm, comforting gloom of the restaurant, where my father is seated at his usual table in the back.
When he sees Gideon following me through the maze of tables, recognition animates his face. He surges to his feet, and my heart catapults into my throat. Panic dumps into my bloodstream and for a second, I’m positive I won’t be able to speak. I’ll just stand in front of my father, squeaking and hyperventilating until I manage to pull myself together.
But then, something unexpected happens.
My father’s eyes light up. And then…he smiles.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s laughing as he grips Gideon’s hand and claps him warmly on the shoulder. “Gabaldon, you sneaky son of a bitch. You should have told me, but you always did play your cards close to the vest.”
“Silas,” Gideon says, squeezing Dad’s hand. “Thanks for meeting us tonight. And thanks for raising such an incredible woman.”
Dad’s chest puffs up, but he only spares me a quick smile before turning back to Gideon. “She’s a rare one, that’s a fact. And even prettier than her mother. Come on, sit down. I’ll order a bottle of champagne to celebrate.”
Celebrate? He’s acting like we’re getting married, not announcing the fact that we’re dating.
And what happened to his warning about staying away from the competition?
Dad clearly wasn’t thrilled by the idea of me dating Adrian, but apparently his father is a different story?
“Sit, sit,” Dad continues, shooing us into the large leather-cushioned seats. “I want to hear how you met, and all about that development in Coney Island. I hear there’s been some trouble with the parking situation and your general contractor.”
I slide into the empty seat on one side of my dad while Gideon settles into the other. My father has positioned himself between us, a strategic move to divide and conquer. But as the champagne is delivered, we order appetizers, and the conversation continues to flow, he doesn’t seem interested in dividing, only…monopolizing.
Gideon keeps trying to include me—in the story of how we met and how we ran into each other again at Adrian’s party—but my father redirects him every time. He doesn’t seem interested in hearing from me at all.