I’m traveling in DC and New York for the rest of the week for job interviews, so I have to put a handful of the extra blog things we’re trying to get to you guys on hold for a little bit. For example, we’re trying to make those Uncle Jeb’s Cave Tours mugs a real thing you can buy. For real.
Previously in Reflected To You, Gideon was being a dick to Eva. I don’t know how this is supposed to be different from the rest of Reflected in You. At any rate, Gideon won’t explain what’s going on to Eva (or the reader…), but will take time out of his busy schedule to have sex. Or, in Cary’s words:
“What kind of vitamins does Cross take? […] I’m never not horny, and even I can’t pile-drive all night like that. I kept thinking, ‘He’s got to be done now.’ Then he’d start up again.”
I honestly can’t tell if this is self-awareness of how absurd Gideon’s sexual prowess is supposed to be or if this is sincere glorification of it. Eva tell him he should have put on headphones, and, well, you guys know Cary.
Yes, it’s the middle one! The one about how in response to overhearing his best friend having sex, he got an erection, which is information everybody wants to hear from their best friend. After… that… Eva sums up the entire book.
“Something’s wrong, and he won’t talk to me about it. I wrote him a letter basically puking out all my insecurities and neuroses. […] all it got me was fucked half to death with no better idea of what the problem is. He said it has to be this way. I don’t even know what that means.”
Yep. That’s pretty much it. Eva has feelings about the way Gideon treats her, Gideon has sex with her instead of talking about the problem, and it Eva doesn’t know why. That’s all 254 pages of this novel – and every page of the previous novel – in 56 words. It’s impressively concise, Sylvia Day, but we don’t really need another summary of a plot when all there is to summarize is: “The plot didn’t progress but there was some sex.”
Continuing in this proud tradition, pretty much nothing happens. Eva goes to work and Gideon ignores her. Eva goes to therapy and explains the exact same problems she’s always had with Gideon.
“He’s completely cut off emotionally. Honestly, I’m beginning to get whiplash. I’m also worried that his change in behavior is because of Corinne.”
Wait, there supposed to be a change?
Significantly, Gideon blows off the couples therapy appointment. I also didn’t really pay attention to the therapy appointment. Nothing has happened since the last one, so I don’t know what could even have been said that should have been important. So we’re just gonna make it up ourselves.
The plot continues its facade that it actually is a plot, and this is the chapter where Eva’s dad visits! And we learn that Eva and Cary’s New York City apartment has a guest suite with its own bathroom and mini-bar, because why the fuck not.
I knew he was thinking about how much my digs must cost in a city like New York. […] He knew I couldn’t afford the place on my own. He knew my mother’s husband was providing for me in ways he would never be able to. And I wondered if he thought about my mother, and how what she needed was also beyond his means.
This is one of the few human conflicts in this novel. It’s a shame this is the only paragraph about it in this chapter, because Gideon and his sister, Ireland, which is her really real name, show up, meaning we have to focus on that problem now. Although first Cary and Eva’s dad play video games.
Cary worked a nunchuck one-handed, since his other hand was in a cast.
“Woo!” my dad shouted. “Spanked.”
At least I think they’re playing video games.
Okay, now Gideon and Ireland show up.
My dad turned, his smile fading, too.
I really can’t convey how disappointing this chapter is. There’s an amazing set-up where Eva’s cop-cliche dad immediately dislikes Gideon, and we don’t even get to see them fight about it! I guess Sylvia Day has other important matters to devote her dialogue to, like the female characters’ concerns about calories.
“Can I help?”
“Sure. Just don’t count calories in your head – it’ll explode,” […]
In short order, I had her helping to roll the last few enchiladas
The enchilada scene in Reflected In You makes me wish it was the taco scene in Hush, Hush. That’s how disappointing this chapter is, guys. I can’t even compare it favorably to Hush, Hush. After dinner, two detectives show up.
“Can you tell us if you’re familiar with a man named Nathan Barker, Miss Trammell?” […]
“Where’s this going?” my dad asked.
I looked helplessly at Cary, then at Gideon. My dad didn’t know about Nathan. I didn’t want him to know.
Okay, this novel finally has a conflict with actual tension that I care about! This is a big deal and a complicated secret. Maybe the remaining 68 pages of this book will actually have a sense of a narrative now that Nathan has finally shown up!
“Nathan Barker was found dead this morning.”
Wow, I was honestly not expecting that. I don’t know if I’m pleased with the book for throwing a twist at me that I honestly wasn’t expecting, or if I’m irritated that the twist means that the thing it’s been hinted at throughout the entire book that could have turned into this novel’s only plot device has now been eliminated before anything happened. Or if I’m irritated and pleased because that “only thing that could be a plot device” was the return of a man who had sexually abused Eva in her past, which means this novel literally could not think of another potential conflict for a female character other than “more rape”, so it’s not like the only plot it was setting up was any good anyway so maybe its meandering nothingness is actually better. Or if I don’t care.