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I push away from him, doing my morning routine before heading to the kitchen to make us pancakes. I text Gia in the meantime, letting her know about Damon’s moving proposal.
I can’t do it over the phone or in person.
I’m a coward.
Even more so because I want to move in with him, yet I can’t shake off the judgment that’s sure to come from her.
My nerves are shot when I hear my phone vibrating against the kitchen countertop, and I see that Gia’s calling me.
“Gemma, tell me you’re not entertaining the idea! It’s been a few, what,weeks? You just left Harvey.”
“I know it sounds crazy.”
“Crazy?” She laughs. “It’s absolutely delusional.”
“Gia, you and James moved pretty fast as well, and I didn’t call you delusional.”
“It’s different. It’s James. Damon’s a loose cannon. He won’t be there when shit hits the fan, Gemma! I’m telling you—don’t make this mistake.”
“You don’t even know him,” I whisper.
I value my sister’s advice. I barely, if not rarely, follow it, but I need to hear it all the same.
“Neither do you,” she says.
I want to tell her that she doesn’t know us. She doesn’t know what Damon makes me feel or how he is when we’re alone. Instead, I tell her I need to go. She calls my name, but it doesn’t stop me from hanging up on her.
I need time to process all of this.
“What the fuck is this? Tell me you didn’t, Gemma. Tell me you fuckingdidn’t.”
I turn my head in a quick motion. My notebook slaps against the marble tile of the island as Damon stands behind it, his hurt eyes watching my every reaction.
“Itrusted you.”
I walk to him, hating myself when he backs away, recoiling from my touch.
“Damon, I’m sorry.” My throat is dry, and my heart is pounding out of my chest. I feel faint and ready to drop on the ground, because five seconds ago all I had to wonder about was if I wanted to live with him.
Not anymore. That thought shouldn’t be a worry anymore.
“You went through my purse.”
“Of course, I did. I checked my drawer yesterday, and it clicked later on that the pink book looked thin. And last night you protected your purse like a newborn.”
“I know I shouldn’t have, Damon—Iknowthat. I’m sorry. I just ... I was desperate for answers.”
He shakes his head, backing away from me. “It’s not your business. There’s nothing to tell. I loved her and she’sdead—end of story.”
I know nothing I say will smooth this out, so I simply hand him back my notebook. “You should read it.”
His jaw clenches, and he grabs the notebook and throws his bag on the floor near the door, the sound making me jump. The minute he grabs his coat, my mind goes into survivalmode, knowing what’s to come, knowing I couldn’t prevent the inevitable.
“Don’t leave. Youpromised. Damon,please...”
Hate pours out of his eyes like lava, ready to burn me alive. Except he won’t be ruining me physically—he’ll be burning my soul.
“I’m sorry.” I’m holding on to his arms, holding on to him, holding on tous.
