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I bring the card with me though. And I stare at it for way too long.
It taints a bit of the sadness I’ve been feeling today with something else. Eagerness. Excitement, perhaps. For a new beginning.
I text Damon.
Gemma:Thank you for the flowers. And the card—especially the card.
His reply is instant.
Damon:You’re very hard to please. How was the move?
Gemma:Good.
I pick up his call, a natural smile on my face.
“You’re a woman of many words. Honestly, Gemma, it’s like you were made for me.” My heart hammers against my chest when he says things like that. When he lets himself be real and honest with me for a minute. “How are you feeling?”
For someone who hates anything feeling related, he’s very much in tune with mine. “I’m okay.” I flip his card between my fingers.
“Don’t lie to me.”
I sigh. “I’m sad ... and excited. And scared for the unknown.”
“Reasonable, considering.”
“Why are you okay with all of this?”
I wait and wait for his answer. I want to know. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t be okay with him hanging on to his ex.
“Don’t mistake patience for acceptance.”
“And you’re not a patient man, Damon. So, what gives?”
I hear some shuffling in the background. “I don’t know. I imagine sometimes if she were still alive and I had to leave her for you. How hard it would be.”
“You’d have left her for me?” I’m not proud of these thoughts that occur regarding his ex-girlfriend. I shouldn’t begrudge the dead.
“I don’t know.” His words are soft—thoughtful. “Maybe not. But I would’ve wanted you more and hated myself for it.”
That’s enough for me. Every time he opens up to me, voluntarily, he shows me a side of himself that makes me love him even more. I won’t pressure him as long as he shares bits and pieces until he’s ready to show me the whole canvas.
I can be patient with him too.
Despite having very little stuff, I unpack well into the evening. I’m all alone in this house, having finished speaking to my dad ten minutes ago. It felt nice to hear his reassuring voice.
I take a shower in my own washroom—another perk of my childhood home. I tie my hair in a loose bun before applying abit of makeup. I dress in light ripped jeans and a fitted white T-shirt.
Once I’m done getting ready, I put away the boxes in my dad’s workshop, needing them for the next time I move. I still have more unpacking to do, but I’m done for the night.
Shortly after, Damon arrives bearing a brown bag of mouthwatering food. Having him here, away from work and coming to me instead of me going to his place, is unreal.
“Pasta?” The aroma fills my nostrils.
He nods against my neck, hugging me from behind. His hugs bring me nothing but warmth and light.
They make me happy.Hemakes me happy.
“How was work?”
