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“Think you’ll be done tonight?” Damon asks from the doorway.
I shake my head.
“Go home. Prioritize that report tomorrow.”
His voice, his words—they sound cut-and-dried. I try not to read much into it. Maybe his meeting didn’t go well?
I save my changes before shutting down the computer and grabbing my stuff.
As we both step inside the elevator, I realize I’ll be able to use my dad’s car until I buy myself one. With everything going on, I’m debating getting Harvey a modified sports car. I’m not sure how he’d take it—or how Claire would take it—or most important of all, how Damon would take it.
So, I’m choosing not to gift him one. I don’t think Harvey would appreciate it anyway now that we’re broken up.
“Who was he?” Damon asks as we settle in his tinted Tesla to talk. He’s perusing the parking lot, his hand resting on the leather steering wheel.
“Harvey’s younger brother. We’re close friends.”
“I don’t like him.”
I turn to face him. “You don’t like anyone.”
He smiles, and it has the power of a hundred blazing suns. Damon rarely smiles, so when he does, I cherish those moments like a lost second I’ll never get back.
“I likeyou.”
My eyes shut automatically. Is this what my life boils down to? I’m in love with the man sitting next to me, and helikesme? Enough to want to spend time with me. Enough to fuck me.
But enough to see a future with me? To see us together down the line?
“What’s wrong?”
I open my eyes. “Nothing.”
“What’s—”
“Did she pass away?” I interrupt him, knowing I need to ask while I have the courage to do so.
He refuses to look at me, but he nods, and my throat tightens. All my thoughts about hating her diminish. I wonder what kind of love they had. I wonder what happened and how she died.
“Why not tell me?”
He shrugs. “You were just a fuck.”
Ouch. God, Damon, you can be such an asshole.
But I want answers, so I swallow the damage to my pride because I want to continue getting to know the man I love.
“What about now? Still just a fuck?” I suck in a breath.
“You know you’re not.” He hates talking about this, about us. His body tenses, like his heart is fending off any feelings trying to penetrate those steel bars protecting it.
“And when did you realize I was more than that?” I ask softly, hoping to soften the blow this will cause to his guilt.
He chuckles, but Damon’s chuckle never equals happiness. The only time he laughed in front of me and it was genuine was when we went ziplining before we slept together for the first time.
“I don’t know, Gemma. You tell me.”
I give him a look that contains the fury of a thousand women. “I can’t pinpoint a moment. It happened organically.”
