Page 41 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“Ah,” she says. It’s both amazing and annoying how much meaning my sister can convey in one word.
Prompted by Tess’s questions, Gideon tells her about the program and his role in it.
“What if Uno falls asleep while the kids are reading to him?” she asks. “Won’t that knock their confidence?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve trained Uno to be attentive, but if he falls asleep, I simply tell the children they read so beautifully they put him to sleep.”
“How clever.” Smiling, she turns to Aaron. “Honey, I need help with dessert.”
His brow creases. “But you’ve already made dessert.”
Tess makes a humming noise in the back of her throat. “Yes, but I need help with some last-minute toppings.”
Aaron’s brow clears. “Ah, yes. Coming.”
They disappear into the kitchen, leaving Gideon and me alone in the dining room.
We look at one another. Gideon’s lips twitch and I shake my head. “My sister is not very subtle.”
“No, she’s not,” he agrees with a laugh.
“Now that she’s found true love with Aaron, she’s decided it’s a gift everyone should have. I seem to be at the top of her list.”
“And you’re opposed?” he asks casually, but there’s nothing casual about the look in his eyes.
“It’s not at the top ofmylist,” I say bluntly. “In fact, it’s not anywhere on my list.”
We buckle a sleepy Lisset into the backseat and thank Tess and Aaron for a delicious dinner. Gideon is full of compliments for the food, triggering an impulsive hug from a glowing Tess.
Aaron’s arms remain folded across his chest. “Text me when you arrive home,” he says to me.
“I will,” I promise him.
As Gideon pulls out into the street, I say, “You survived.”
“More than that, I had fun.”
I eye him dubiously. “Masochist.”
He lets out a chuckle. “No, really, I had a good time. Despite being interrogated to within an inch of my life.”
I study his profile as he drives my car, his strong jawline under the short beard, the sensual curve of his mouth.
“You held up pretty well,” I say.
“I understand where they’re coming from.”
“Tess can be a handful.”
“She loves you,” he says quietly. “That love may be fierce and opinionated, but it’s love. I’m sure she only wants what’s best for you.”
What he doesn’t say, but what fills the heavy silence in the car, is that my sister has seemingly decided Gideon Walker is the man who’s best for me. How she’s come to that conclusion in the ridiculously short time she’s known him, I have no idea.
We listen to the hum of the car on the quiet roads. Gideon’s hands are relaxed and competent on the steering wheel. He’s driving carefully, which I appreciate.
Choosing my words deliberately, I say, “Thank you for being a friend to me, Gideon.”
He flicks a quick glance my way. The shadows in the car don’t allow me to read his expression, but he goes still and I see his jaw tighten.
