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“You’re right. I won’t let this go. And you said it yourself: this won’t be over until he’s over, but there are ways to approach making that happen that don’t mean I’m in jail or dead.”
“What ideas?”
“Baby, tonight, let’s just get you warm and fed and in bed with me where you belong. Tomorrow we’ll meet with Walker, and we’ll figure this out.”
“Will you let Walker help us?”
“I hired Walker, remember?”
“Adam thinks you’re on the verge of going rogue.”
“Adam doesn’t know me, Alana. You do. I will not allow us to be divided again. You have my word.”
I study him, weighing how committed he is to that answer, but the problem is that Damion has always been committed to protecting me, no matter what the cost to him or our relationship. I’m not sure how easily he can break the cycle.
“I ordered the pizza,” he says. “It should be here soon. Get dressed. We need to get some food down you. How can I help right now? What do you need?”
“You can help by making sure every action you take ends with us together. I’ve dreamed of our wedding way longer than I should probably admit. Don’t take that from me.”
He lifts my left hand and displays my engagement finger. “This ring was created years ago when I desperately wanted to propose. I’ve been thinking about our wedding probably far longer than you can imagine.” He closes his hands over my hand. “Let’s eat pizza and plan our wedding. We’ll deal with my father tomorrow.”
“We can’t plan a wedding with all of this going on.”
“The hell we can’t. Let’s plan our wedding.”
“Damion—”
He cups my face, leans in, and kisses me. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you and to eat a million pizzas with you over the years. Focus on us. We need that tonight.”
“Yes,” I whisper, because he’s right. I know he’s right. I wanted nothing more than to be with him again when I was trapped in that concrete room. I remember sitting against the door, knees to my chest, thinking that tomorrow is never guaranteed. And it’s not. Life has proven that to me this past month. I wrap my arms around Damion and tilt my chin up to look at him. “Let’s focus on us.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Damion
Thirty minutes later, Alana and I have found our way to the couch, where we sit to devour pizza from a popular local New York City restaurant. Alana sits intimately to my right, her hair silky brown, a delicate quality about her at present, mimicked by the fragile silk of her pink robe. But slowly, with each bite she manages, the color in her cheeks begins to return. By the time she’s downed most of a bottle of water and a full slice of pizza, her voice is stronger, her energy measurably higher.
But while her body is on the mend, free of outward damage, I fear her emotions are far more battered and bruised.
She’s not talking to me about anything but how delicious the pizza is and how good it feels to be home. It’s as if she’s shut down the emotions, compartmentalized the hell she’s been through, and locked it away. There’s no doubt though that eventually that door will burst open and the monsters inside will not only have grown stronger, they’ll demand to be acknowledged. For that reason, and it’s a big one, I’m of the mindset it’s better for her to face those monsters now, on her own terms, rather than later, when they will sneak up on her. The idea that this day will cause a lingering effect the way being locked in the cellar did is literally gutting me alive right now, but it’s all too raw for me to push her.
All I can do is be here for her, be present, as I promised her I would.
We’re on the second slice of pizza each when my cellphone rings with Blake’s number. Looping her in, aware the unknowns are not good for her right now, I angle caller ID toward Alana.
“Can you please answer on speaker?” she asks, clearly paranoid about what comes next.
I answer the call with, “Blake, you have me and Alana on the line.”
“Alana,” Blake greets. “How are you?”
“Better,” she says. “We’re eating pizza, and the food is helping me feel more myself. Thank you for all you did today. Your voice was the first friendly voice I heard for hours. I know I didn’t react like I was relieved, but I was.”
I’m reminded of Blake telling me she’d been screaming when he’d found her, freaking out in the darkness. My fingers curl into my palm, anger ticking in my jaw. My father has to pay, and maybe death is too good. He needs to be locked in a dark, fucking room somewhere and left there. It’s not murder. It’s poetic justice.
“I’m just happy we have you back with Damion,” Blake replies. “And I’m calling for an update on your mother, anyway. She’s refused to leave with Joey. She went to the bathroom before they were to leave for the airport. She stayed in there a very long time, and when she came out, she announced she was not leaving. We think she was convinced by someone else not to go with us. We’re monitoring her phone, and there was no communication, but there could easily be another phone we don’t know about.”
Alana’s chin dips to her chest, and I can feel the intensity of her emotions punch at me, but before I can interject, her gaze is locked on mine. “Do we think she set me up, or was she an innocent victim? And I’m asking the same question of both of you.”
