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“That wasn’t a very subtle change of conversation, Red.”
“I was wondering if, before her, you wanted marriage and kids?”
His thumb scratches his temple, a pensive look in his eyes. Then the oven timer goes off, giving him something to do as he takes out the pan of food.
Palmer died when Damon was around twenty-six, since it’ll be three years soon. And they were together for four years, according to her diary. A part of me wants to know who he was before her as well—how her death shaped and changed him completely.
I sit on the counter, watching him place the guacamole and salsa on the side, waiting for him to answer me.
His stare tells me all I need to know. He wants a break from this line of questioning. But he needs to feed me bread crumbs until I’m satisfied.
“I wasn’t looking for a relationship in college. It was all just meaningless sex.”
“So with Palmer you wanted those things?”
“It doesn’t even matter.”
“Itdoesmatter. She’s the ghost between us, so it does matter.”
He pulls on my hand, sliding me off the counter. “I told you already, I was about to ask her to marry me before she died.” A flicker of pain appears on his face, and is gone the next second. “Now can we eat, so I can have dessert?” He cups my sex over my Calvin thong.
I wonder if that’s why he was distant according to Palmer? Because he was about to propose?
“Okay, I’m done with my questions—for now.” I slip two fingers inside the waistband of his black sweatpants.
“Gemma, my past is irrelevant. I want to be with you, not just fuck you.”
I’m so tempted to ask him about future kids, but I hold my tongue begrudgingly, determined to stop pestering him tonight. Damon sits on the island stool with me on his lap. One of his hands is wrapped around my waist while the other sporadically feeds me.
We end up on the couch afterward, a thriller movie in the background.
“Did you find a place yet?” he asks, as we lay down missionary style on the couch.
“Umm, no. I haven’t had time to check.”
He pushes my hair behind my ear. “Stay with me.”
My entire body goes rigid. “What? What do you mean?”
He swipes his thumb across my bottom lip before kissing my mouth. “Come live with me.”
“Damon, that’sridiculous.” I clear my throat in complete disbelief. “We just started dating.”
“Do I have to call you my girlfriend for you to feel secure in our relationship?”
I’m swooning. Having him confirm we’re in a relationship warms my heart.
I love the fact that he wants me to move in. My brain thinks I’m an absolute idiot for considering it, but by God do I consider it.
“We can’t.”
“And why not?” He’s distracting me with his kisses. Kisses on my lips, my chin, under my jawline, on my throat.
“Because my pregnant sister will kill me,” I joke, but I mean it. She’ll kill me because it’s foolish to move in with someone you’ve known for only a few months, someone you just started officially dating. Especially when there was someone else in the picture.
“What doyouwant?”
“You’re also my boss, and I need to figure myself out.”
