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“I just needed to keep a part of you close. No matter how small.”
Ana María was his now, and he was hers, and Gideon intended to savor this moment, and every moment to come.
Ana María brought her arm up to shield her body, and Gideon shook his head. “No, darling, don’t. Let me look at you. I’ve been starved to look at you.”
“You are the most discerning woman I know, and have seen places and experienced things I can only imagine. I would be very grateful if you shared your opinion and insight about the work I do.”
“She’s my wife!” Launching to his feet, Gideon stared unseeing out the window. Pressing his forehead to the cool glass, he whispered, “I’ve never felt more helpless in my life.” His friends were quiet for a pregnant moment, until Whitfield spoke again. “And you feel helpless because you care. A great deal, it would seem.” Gideon glared at him over his shoulder. “Of course I care. Like I said, Ana María is my wife.” “Yes, I’m aware. I was at the wedding.”
“My point is that you seem to have fallen in love with your convenient bride.”
“Ana María is”—he coughed into his fist—“quite special to me, and I am grateful to you both for helping me to bring her home.”
“It is important. It will always be the work of my heart. But, darling, may I please have a moment to just be grateful you are unharmed? That you are in my arms, once again, where you belong?”
“You think that our marriage has caused me trouble, but you’ve only brought me joy. Strength. I have gained a partner I know will be by my side as I will be by hers. We can do the difficult things together. It’s why I’m so certain my proposal will meet with success, because we will fight for it together.”
