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So, I do the next best thing. I wrap my arms around his torso, hiding my face in the crook of his neck.
“When you let go of the guilt forher... then come and find me.”
The screaming lady inside me is still numb from the heartbreak, but she’s slowly waking from hibernation, wondering what I’m doing.
The truth is I don’t even know myself. Did Harvey push Claire away for me, only for me to be here in another’s arms?
I’m asking Damon to do something I have a hard time doing myself.
He wraps his arms around me, and the sinking feeling in my chest is back. I’ll be in New York with him next week—all alone.
“Gemma.”
His word is laced with so much agony I can allow myself to make believe he actually cares for me. We could never expect to have a future together if we can’t let the past sink down into the dark sea.
So, I let go of him, clutching the letter, staring at him one more time.
“Good night, Damon.”
I ignore the hurt displayed all over his face, the tight jaw he’s sporting as I get away.
I told Harvey . . .
It almost hurts to breathe.What am I doing?
I’m glad I drafted the email to the client before sending off the letter. Once it’s sent, I shut off my computer, and my thirty-minute drive back home is accompanied by a flock of thoughts buzzing in my head, tearing me apart.
He’sit, isn’t he? I could find a million different ways to try to make Harvey happy, but Damon came into my life and wreaked havoc.
I don’t want him to leave.
I’ll keep him as my boss any day if it means I get to hear his sharp words, see his divine beauty.
I breathe deeply as I park in my and Harvey’s driveway in Clarendon Hills, Illinois.
I don’t know how long I can keep living in limbo between two different men who have both known pain. Men who both let their pasts dictate their present, whether they notice or not.
I step inside the house, catching a whiff of my turtleneck when I remove my coat, hoping to conceal Damon’s scent.
If I close my eyes, I can feel the comfort of his earlier hug, giving me the needed courage to deal with Harvey.
As I start making dinner, Harv wheels himself into the kitchen to grab some pretzels, letting me know he already ate.
I don’t ask when or with whom. He probably ate with Claire.
He retreats to his own room again—another change that resulted from the accident since we haven’t shared a bedroom since—his doing, not mine.
I make enough food for leftovers—salmon, roasted potatoes, and veggies.
I try not to think about Claire and Harv having another sit-down dinner together—most likely laughing and touching. Especially since I have no right to fight him over this. Not when I was in another man’s arms today. Not when I’m slightly relieved not to have to sit through another silent dinner with Harv.
So, I eat while watching Netflix, then shower and change into a long T-shirt, ready for the night. When I head to his room, I sit on his bed, watching him play video games.
My jaw opens slightly after he hands me the controller, but I close it, not wanting to spook him away.
“Henrik came over for a late lunch,” he says at a random point.
While I’m shooting at people on the screen, I remember how much I used to love the thrill of gaming too. And riding our motorcycles together. That was ourthing—until it wasn’t. My anger dissipates when I process his words, and the fact that it wasn’t Claire he ate with reassures me. “He left early?”
