But the moment I entered his apartment, I knew he wasn't home.
The energy that thrummed through a space when he occupied it was markedly absent.
Lights that were activated by my movements came on when I entered the expansive living room, and I forced myself to settle in as if I belonged there.
My room was down the hall and I went to it, pausing on the threshold to absorb the weirdness of seeing my bedroom replicated in Gideon's place.
The duplication was uncanny, from the color on the walls to the furniture and fabrics, but its existence was more than a little unnerving.
Gideon had created it as my safe room, a place for me to run to when I needed some space.
I supposed I was running to it now, in a way, by using it instead of his.
Setting my workout bag and purse on the bed, I showered and changed into one of the Cross Industries T- shirts Gideon had set aside for me.
I tried not to think about why he still wasn't home.
I'd just poured a glass of wine and turned on the living room television when my smartphone rang.
"Hello?" I answered, unfamiliar with the number on the nameless Caller ID.
"Eva? It's Shawna."
"Oh, hey, Shawna."
I tried not to sound disappointed.
"I hope it's not too late to call."
I looked at the screen of my phone, noting that it was almost nine o'clock.
Jealousy mingled with my concern.
Where was he? "No worries.
I'm just watching TV."
"Sorry I missed your call last night.
I know it's short notice, but I wanted to see if you'd be up for going to a Six- Ninths concert on Friday."
"A what concert?" "Six-Ninths.
You haven't heard of 'em? They were indie until late last year.
I've been following them for a while and they gave their e-mail list first dibs, so I scored tickets.
Thing is, everyone I know likes hip-hop and dance pop.
Not to say you're my last hope, but .
well, you're my last hope.
Tell me you like alt rock."
"I like alt rock."
My phone beeped.