I haven't eaten, either."
I'd finally settled upon a local deli boasting organic tomato soup and fresh baguettes - figuring my stomach could maybe handle that - when my phone rang again.
"Hey, Cary," I answered, wishing I were home with him and not about to face a painful breakup.
"Hey, Cross was just here looking for you.
I told him to go to hell and stay there."
"Cary."
I sighed.
I couldn't blame him; I'd do the same thing for him.
"Thanks for letting me know."
"Where are you?" "At his place, waiting for him.
He just showed.
I'll probably be home sooner rather than later."
"You kicking him to the curb?" "I think that's on his agenda."
He exhaled audibly.
"I know it's not what you're ready for, but it's for the best.
You should call Dr.
Travis ASAP.
Talk it out with him.
He'll help you put things in perspective."
I had to swallow past the lump in my throat.
"I'm - Yeah.
Maybe."
"You okay?" "Ending it face-to-face has dignity, at least.
That's something."
My phone was pulled from my hand.
Gideon held my gaze as he said, "Good-bye, Cary," then powered off my phone and set it on the counter.
His hair was damp and he wore black pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips.
The sight of him hit me hard, reminding me of all that I stood to lose when I lost him - the breathless anticipation and desire, the comfort and intimacy, the ephemeral sense of rightness that made everything worthwhile.
"Who's the date?" he asked.
"Huh? Oh.