Lukas also insisted on paying for Gideon’s remaining treatment. I fought him on it for a little while before he pointed out, in that infuriatingly calm way of his, that arguing about money when someone you love needs help is a luxury neither of us can afford.
I hate it when he’s right.
“Tell your boyfriend his risotto book is a game-changer,” Gideon says.
“He’s not my—” I stop. Because, well… “I’ll tell him.”
Gideon’s grin softens. “You doing okay, Rae? For real?”
“For real,” I promise. And mean it.
We talk for another few minutes—before he has to go.
“Love you, G,” I tell him.
“Love you more,” he replies. “Don’t forget to eat breakfast. Granola bars don’t count.”
I blow him a kiss and hang up.
When the call ends, I just sit there, phone warm in my hands, sunlight on my face. Gid
