Page 23 of Mine to Tease

It’s been nice talking with Christian throughout the week, and there has been a small part of me that’s been looking forward to tonight—the part of me who knows better than to fall for a man who’s incapable of opening up to me, committing to me, loving me. But can I open up to Christian, commit to him, love him—or anyone, for that matter—when I still feel so strongly for someone else? Someone who isn’t going anywhere. Someone I’m going to see every single day, secretly wishing we could have just one more moment together. I shake my head then and open my eyes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the door attendant watching me, wondering if I’ll ever go inside. Will I? I lower my gaze to my feet as a horse-drawn carriage full of men and women ready for dinner arrives at the green and white awning. I glance at my phone, even though I know I’m already late. There are several texts from Christian. The sight of them makes my chest ache, because I know I’m about to hurt him. Perhaps, most of all, I know I’m about to hurt myself.

Damon Dupont can’t love me. He can’t give me what I want and what he can give me isn’t enough. And yet, the bigger part of me, the stupid, hopeless part of me has been dreading tonight because I knew it would be the beginning of our end. Whether things take off with Christian or not, giving someone else a chance, allowing my heart to realize it deserves better, was always going to be the end of me and Damon. I just…I never wanted it to come to this. I still don’t. I can’t wrap my head around it—the end of us. Though, it’s clear Damon doesn’t feel the same way.

He may kiss me on my forehead, ask me to text him when I make it home. He may be protective, possessive, and touch my body as if mine is the only one he’s ever known. But he didn’t stop me. He didn’t stop me from walking out that door. So why isn’t that enough for me to keep walking straight into that restaurant toward a man who may be everything Damon Dupont is not? I guess because…I don’t want a man who is everything Damon Dupont is not.

I take a deep breath as anxiety swirls in my stomach and flutters in my chest. I’m scared, but I know what I have to do. It’s true. I do want the happily ever after, just like Christian said. But, also as he said, the end of something does not reflect the whole. Whatever is happening between Damon and me, it may end. But I’d rather leave that up to fate than write our last chapter prematurely.

Quickly, I go to my messages and read through the ones Christian has sent. Finally, I type my reply, letting him know I won’t be making it to dinner. My finger hovers over the send button as I consider my choice. I may be making a huge mistake right now. Just because I choose Damon doesn’t mean he’ll choose me. In fact, I’m almost certain he won’t. But, regardless, it isn’t fair to string Christian along if he isn’t my first choice. And, sadly, he just isn’t. My brain can’t fool my heart any longer. Resolved, I click send and turn in the direction from which I came only to be met by Brinkley, dressed in a light blue vest to match my dress, and Damon, wearing his classic black ensemble—rings, chains, and all—and a twinkle in his eyes I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

“Damon?” I walk toward him, confusion and concern amping up my heart rate. “Is Brinkley okay? Did something happen? How did you know I was here? How long have you been here?” Questions pour out of me as my eyes move between the two of them only to be silenced by Damon’s lips crashing into mine. He brings his hand to my neck to steady my mouth against his as he kisses me with a ferocity and desperation I can feel in every tiny movement and taste on his tongue as it slips in and out of my mouth. I relax against him. Bringing my hands to his shoulders, I pull myself closer to him. I was sure I’d never feel him again. I…I… As my brain finally catches up to the moment, I pull away from him, though his hands move to my hips, not letting me get far. “Damon, why are you here?” I ask again. This time my voice is nothing more than a breathless whisper.

Damon looks at me with soft eyes. Gently, he moves one of his hands from my hip to my fingers, intertwining his with mine, and I watch him as he does. Then, my vision shifts to Brinkley. He sits just at our feet, watching the two of us with his tongue half out and a smile on his face. The sight of him melts my heart almost as much as Damon’s touch and his presence. It isn’t lost on me that the two have bonded or else Brink would’ve arrived naked. Damon sorting through his spare outfits I keep at my shop to dress him to match me makes this moment all the more sweet. And yet, Damon still hasn’t said a word.

“I…I followed you,” he says then, pulling my attention back to him. Normally, I’d be alarmed by such an admission, but I’m too happy he’s here. He…he didn’t let me go. Oh, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself again.

“Why?” I ask, squeezing Damon’s hand as I wait for my answer. I pray it’s the one I want. Damon squeezes my hand in return, but is quiet as his facial features shift. His jaw tightens, becoming sharp as he presses his lips into a flat line. It’s as if he’s trying to keep from saying what’s on his mind, or perhaps in his heart. He looks away from me, scanning our surroundings until his eyes finally land on Brinkley. “Damon, talk to me. Please!” I beg. The anticipation hurts. I want him. I need him. And, after all this, if he says something cruel and stupid like he can’t watch Brinkley tonight, I just might break or pummel him, one or the other.

It’s then that he says, “Because Brinkley needed to shit and I…I needed?—”

“Yes?”

Finally, Damon lifts his eyes to mine, and in them, I find a look of desperation, of longing, similar to the taste of his kiss. “I needed to see you happy. Because if you’re happy, then maybe that would make the pain of losing you a little easier to bear.”

My mouth falls open in surprise, my eyes widening. As Damon’s words land on me, I’m sure I’m dreaming. Quickly, I squeeze my eyes closed and grip on to his hand as tight as I can, praying that when I open them again he’ll still be here, holding on to me, looking at me as if I’m the only one in the world he wants. And he is. As I process what he’s confessed, my body feels light and my heart does a happy dance in my chest. This man, the one incapable of connecting with anyone, doesn’t want to lose me?

As my lips lift into a smile, I can feel my cheeks blush. “Well, I’m not happy, Damon. Not unless I’m with you.” Now it’s Damon’s turn to smile. It reaches his light eyes, and little wrinkles form to the sides. I remember when we first met. I thought he looked so wicked, so devious. And there is still a little twinkle of that mischievousness in his gaze as he lets go of my hand and pulls me tight against him. The kind that lets me know he’d rather I was naked right now or not wearing the lingerie he knows is beneath my dress. And yet, there’s a softness, a lightness to him that I find beautiful. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him look so happy.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he says then. Once more, he brings his lips to mine, kissing me between sentences. “Before you left, I wanted to fight for you or with you, whichever would keep you with me longer.”

“Why didn’t you?” I ask, breathless.

“Because I know all the same truths as you.”

“And what truths are those?”

Damon grazes his lips over mine, but does not follow through on our kiss. I can feel his muscles tense beneath his shirt. Thankfully, he doesn’t pull away. I never want him to pull away from me again. “I’m not good, Anastasia. I’m…” He shakes his head, standing tall. I keep my arms wrapped around him, as he does his around me. “I’m an arrogant, prideful, stubborn asshole with a sad and sketchy past that has made me keep people at arm’s length for longer than I’d like to admit. To be honest, the present is almost as complicated.”

“But, Damon, you’re so much more than that. And I know there are things I don’t know about you. There are things you don’t know about me too.” As I’m reminded of my own secrets, I question how much I can tell him about my family. I suppose he’ll get the civilian version that everyone outside of the mob gets. My family has enough legit business ventures to explain our wealth without mentioning anything about the illegal stuff. And, with my parents dead and my relocation to New Orleans, there’s only Aidan to contend with. And, per our arrangement, he isn’t as much of a presence anymore. This can work. As I assure myself, I say, “But I want to get to know you on the deepest possible level. I want to know what makes you sad or angry and happy. I want to know about your complications. I want you to open your heart to me just as I will open mine to you.” It’s then that I place my hands over his heart, lifting my gaze to his once more. “Can you do that for me, Damon?”

“For you, there are no limits to what I’d do. I just thought it better to give you a chance to find happiness with someone else, because I can’t promise you’re going to love everything you learn.”

I nod. “You should know me well enough by now to know that I like to make my own decisions. So let me make this choice for myself, okay? Because I choose you, Damon. I choose you and every ounce of happiness or heartbreak you may bring me. Maybe that makes me stupid, but…the truth is, there really isn’t a choice. You’re the one that I want, no matter how many times you tell me I shouldn’t.”

Damon smiles once more and, lifting my hands to his lips, kisses my knuckles. “Well, then, Ms. Anastasia Cross, would you do me—sorry, us—the honor of taking you to dinner?” Damon looks between me and Brinkley. I love how he’s made an effort to include him.

“It would be my pleasure,” I say. And with that, I pick Brinkley up and loop my arm around Damon’s. “Hopefully, someplace close because these heels are killing me.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make them, and the rest of you, feel real good after dinner.”

My cheeks blush and I let out a soft giggle. Though, as I direct my eyes to the walkway before us, my smile falls. “Oh, Christian. I—I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t be.” Christian looks between the two of us. Damon angles his body in response, as if he’s ready to step in front of me should Christian try anything. Alas, he leaves us with nothing but these parting words—“I should’ve known there was someone else when you picked the tragedy over the happy ending. Goodbye, Anastasia, and good luck.” I lower my gaze to the sidewalk as Christian leaves us, Damon’s eyes following him. There’s a small pang of guilt in my chest at the knowledge that I hurt him. But I know I only would’ve hurt him more if I would’ve continued things with him. I just hope he’s wrong about Damon and me, about me. I hope I didn’t choose the tragedy.

“Wait, that was my replacement? Here I was feeling all special. Now I understand the hesitation. I’d eat him for breakfast,” Damon says, turning back to me. I shake my head and roll my eyes. At least he isn’t angry or jealous. Things are just starting to get good for us.

“Be nice,” I playfully scold him.

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