Page 45 of Accidental Vegas Vows

I reached out to him, just barely touching his shoulder with the back of my fingers. “I think it’s better that he doesn’t see how hard this is for you,” I said. “Imagine how he’d feel if he knew that it was this stressful for you. Would you want that?”

His jaw hardened as he slowly turned his gaze toward me. “No. I wouldn’t want him to know.”

“Then you’re doing the right thing.”

We fell into silence for a moment, just the crack of the fire and the distant sound of cars over the hedgerows. He leaned back into the sofa, close enough to touch if I wanted to, but far enough that it wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing in the world. I watched him, watched as the light from the fire pit flickered across his face, watched as he anxiously checked through the window every thirty or so seconds to make sure that Noah hadn’t come down the stairs. If he didn’t already have flecks of grays through his hair, he’d absolutely have sprouted some in the last few days.

“I told him you’d be staying with us for a little bit,” he said, the words so quiet I almost didn’t catch them. “He’s excited. He likes you.”

“He barely knows me,” I laughed.

Damien shrugged. “He barely knows me, too. You know what he asked me when I told him?”

I shook my head.

“He asked if you were going to be his new mom,” he chuckled, passing me back the now half-empty glass of orange juice. Somehow, the sentence didn’t phase me — it seemed like a pretty average thing for a five-year-old to question. “And then when I brought up the fact that he has a mom, he played the dead-mom card again.”

That look came back over him again, the worried one, the stressed one. “If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t know how to deal with that, either.”

“That does. Thank you.” His hand wrapped around the base of my knee, squeezing for just a moment, and then as quickly as the embrace had appeared, it was gone. “I spoke to a child psychologist earlier. She said that any reaction to a parent’s death is okay. They all process things differently. She said to keep an eye on him and to be prepared for it to potentially all hit at once, so I guess you should be on the lookout for that too.”

I swallowed. I wouldn’t have any idea how to handle a situation like that if it happened when we were alone — it caught me off guard enough when he’d just casually mentioned it to me.

“If that happens,” Damien continued, “I don’t expect you to deal with it. I want to make that abundantly clear, Liv. Call me, and I’ll drop whatever I’m doing. I’ll handle it.”

I let out a breath. Thank fuck. “Okay. Thank you.”

He turned to me then, his eyes finally meeting mine fully, even if they did flick over my shoulder to check the window occasionally. “There’s something else, too,” he sighed. “I know this blurs a lot of lines. And I know that’s confusing. I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to play mind games, or trying to get you to do things you wouldn’t otherwise feel comfortable with. If you want to keep your distance from me here, that’s fine. I understand. I’ve set up an entire office for you on the top floor, and your room is at the opposite end from mine on the second. We can avoid each other if that’s what you want.”

That’s not what I want.

Fuck, it should be what I want.

The sound of a car honking its horn made him jump, and he checked behind me again, watching the base of the stairs. But they stayed clear.

“That’s not what I want,” I said, letting my thoughts ring clear. Half of them, at least. “But we can’t… do what we did. No sex. That would muddy things too much, and like you said, you’ve got a lot going on. That’s my rule. That, and we both sign the papers the moment Ethan has them. I can’t stay married to you for longer than necessary. My family will freak out, Damien.”

“No sex, sign the papers. I can do that. Promise,” he said, nodding to himself. He relaxed again on the sofa, his body turning to face me, his eyes holding focus on mine. Despite the air of uncertainty and the biting awkwardness of our situation, there was still a part of me that felt comfortable under his gaze, even with him so close. So close I could reach out and touch him with minimal effort. So close I could bring myself into him if I wanted. “If it’s any consolation, princess, it’s all confusing for me, too.”

Princess. He’d apologized the first time he’d used it after that phone call — but somehow it had weaseled its way back into his vernacular. I didn’t hate it, though. And that was probably a problem. “I’m glad I’m not the only one,” I said, letting out a breathy chuckle.

My breath caught the moment his fingers brushed against the skin of my cheek, pushing a single strand of wavy hair behind my ear. “I have to hold myself back,” he breathed, the words so quiet they nearly disappeared in the air between us. “But I find myself not wanting to.”

I swallowed around the knot in my throat. I didn’t know what to say to that — didn’t know if I should agree, if I should let him know he wasn’t alone in that, or if I should run for the fucking hills.

His fingers cupped my cheek, the touch so soft, so fucking gentle, that I wouldn’t know it was there without the warmth and little crackles of cold from his rings. Blue eyes flicked down to my parted lips before meeting my gaze again, then over my shoulder, then back.

I didn’t pull away when he leaned closer.

I didn’t pull away when his lips brushed against mine.

An open invitation, begging, tempting, waiting on me.

I placed a single hand against his chest, my fingers twisting in the fabric, and let myself push forward into him.

“Dad?”

Reality slammed back in.

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