You were sleeping with her regularly and didn't expect her to fall in love with you?" "Jesus."
His head fell back with a groan.
"Not this again."
Then he straightened abruptly.
"Actually, you know what? You keep on thinking I'm God's gift to women, angel.
It's better for me if you believe I'm the best you can get."
I splashed him.
The ease with which he dismissed his appeal was another way he mirrored me.
We knew our strengths and played up our assets.
But we couldn't see what made us unique enough for someone to really love us.
Gideon lunged forward and caught my hands.
"Now, tell me what the f**k you had with Brett Kline."
"You didn't tell me what Dr.
Lucas did to piss you off."
"Yes, I did."
"Not the details," I argued.
"It's your turn to spill.
Out with it."
It took me a long time to get the words out.
No guy wanted a recovering slut for his girlfriend.
But Gideon waited patiently.
Obstinately.
I knew he wasn't going to let me get out of the tub until I told him about Brett.
"I was nothing but a convenient f**k for Brett," I confessed in a rush, wanting to get it over with, "and I put up with it - went out of my way for it - because in that period of my life, sex was the only way I knew how to feel loved."
"He wrote a love song about you, Eva."
I looked away.
"The truth wouldn't make much of a ballad, would it?" "Did you love him?" "I - No."
I looked at Gideon when he exhaled audibly, as if he'd been holding his breath.
"I had a crush on him and the way he sings, but it was totally superficial.
I never got to really know him."