Page 116 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“Upstairs.”
He steps inside, kicks the door shut with his foot, and hoists me into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he backs me up against the wall. We’re kissing fiercely and frantically, like two people finding their way back to one another after a cyberattack knocked out the power grid and we ended up stranded on opposite ends of the country. There’s an edge of hunger and desperation and joyous relief in our kiss.
“Mom!” Lisset’s door is flung open and she clomps down the stairs. “I can’t find my brush anywhere.”
Gideon sets me down and we step apart hastily, straightening our clothing, our breathing fast and shallow.
“Gideon!” She charges toward him, unabashedly hugging him and chattering away about how much she loves her doll. Abruptly, she stops talking. “Mom, why is your face so red?”
“Is it?” I press my palms to my cheeks. “It’s pretty hot today. I must be overheating.”
She frowns. “It’s not that hot today.”
“Hey, Lis,” Gideon says evenly, “do you and Mom want to have dinner at my place tonight?”
“Yes, please. Will you make my favorite food?”
“What’s your favorite food?”
“Macaroni and cheese. But you have to make it just like mom’s.”
“I’m sensing a trap,” Gideon says. “How amazing is your mom’s macaroni and cheese?”
“The best in the world,” she declares solemnly.
He shakes his head. “Uh-uh, I’m not competing with the best mac and cheese in the world.”
“The secret ingredients are a little mustard and paprika,” I tell him. “Also, lots of cheese.”
“Still not making it.”
I smile at him. “I’m fine if you want to throw some hamburgers on a grill.”
He looks relieved. “That I can do.”
“I love hamburgers!” Lisset exclaims. She grabs his hand and tugs him down the hallway. “Gideon, come see how I’ve dressed my doll.”
As I watch her lead him away, all I can think is, in seven days Lisset leaves for a three-week summer camp and I’ll have Gideon all to myself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Yesterday, I said goodbye to Lisset. She was more than ready to head off to camp, ecstatic that two of her closest friends are attending the same camp. I’m sure she’ll love it and return bursting with happy memories and new friends. But it was hard seeing her off. Harder than I expected. A blue Monday made even bluer by her absence.
This morning, Gideon showed up at my front door with a strong latte and a disarming smile and somehow managed to sweet-talk me into coming with him to walk Uno, an element of their everyday routine I’ve managed to avoid so far.
We’re fifteen minutes into the walk and already I feel my mood lifting. The sky is a cornflower blue above us, the sun already starting to scorch the air. Summers are my happy place. Watermelon-stained fingers. Warm, languid nights and cool sheets. The hypnotic hum of ceiling fans. Barbecues and tanned, relaxed bodies.
I lift my face to the sun and stretch my arms above my head, contentment coursing through me. I’m glad I agreed to accompany him. This is what I needed.
Abruptly, I stop in my tracks and look around. I’m walking alone.
I look behind me and there Gideon is with Uno, ambling along.Ambling!
Frustrated, I make my way back to him. “I thought you said this was a walk.”
“It is a walk.”
“But you’re strolling.”
