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“Did you speak to him today?”
“During lunch, yeah, and he was moody, so I decided to hang out with Jeanine tonight instead.”
“Jeanine.”
“Yes,Jeanine. Don’t hate on ho names, Gemma. Yours sounds pret-ty similar if you ask me.”
I clear my throat, knowing what I’m about to unleash on him, knowing he had told me not to.
“Henrik?”
“Yeah?”
“He knows I ... slept with my boss,” I say, hoping not to be eternally judged for it.
“Fuck.”He doesn’t comment on the fact that the guy I cheated on Harvey with is my boss—a detail I left out the night I told him about my affair.
“I’m leaving him, Hen. My dad’s going to Seattle for a few weeks, so I’ll be settling there.”
“You’re moving out.” He mutters his speech like he’s repeating the words to let them sink in.
I answer, “Yeah. I haven’t told him yet. I left in a hurry. I’ll tell him myself. I just know this will affect you too.”
“Stop worrying about it. I’ll move in with him for now and be there for him. But you know what? It’s time he takes care of himself.”
I exhale loudly. Henrik doesn’t have to do that—he has a place of his own.
“I’m scared. I’m scared to leave him.” I’m scared of being alone, of being unhappy, of regretting it. I want us to be happy, even if we can’t do so while we’re together. I also dread becoming strangers with the boy who used to make me smile.
“It’s gonna be okay, Gem Gem.”
I nod to myself, needing the reassurance. We say goodbye, and I end the call as Damon’s name pops up on my screen.
“Still hungry?” he asks, his voice low.
“Yeah.” The restaurant we went to with our clients was the type to leave your stomach and your wallet empty by the time you left.
“Meet me in the lobby in ten.” He hangs up.
I put my hair in a bun and dress in a tee and jeans. I brought ankle boots with me, so I wear those with my black puffer jacket.
I smile when I meet Damon wearing a black hat on his head, barely fully on. I love how he’s both the handsome CEO in suits and the striking man in ripped jeans.
In fact, I’m pretty sure I love everything about him.
Oh, God.
“Pizza?”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Pizza sounds great.” We walk silently hand in hand, following the crowded streets, the weekend vibe buzzing around us.
After grabbing our box of pizza, we walk to Central Park.
I love how comfortable the silence is between us.
I love when he grabs my hand as if he intends to never let it go.
We settle on a bench, and he feeds me a slice. The wind is just as harsh as it’d be back home, but less snow covers the ground.
