Page 30 of The Naughty List

When I glance at the clock again, it’s going on eight. I pull my phone out, swiping up to open it and going straight to the messages. I click the conversation with Kate and type out a message.

Me: Hey, thanks again for our talk tonight. Any chance you’re up for company?

I stare at the message then delete it, typing out a new one.

Me: You’ve got cups? I’m bringing the wine.

No, too cheesy. I delete the message, toss my phone on my desk, and run my hands over my face. I lean back in my chair.

“Fuck it,” I say, grabbing the letter, my jacket and keys, and walking to the elevator. I hit the button for the parking garage. I’m just going to show up at her place and hope for the best.

I knock impatiently on her door, my heart thudding in my chest. I hear the lock click as the handle turns and the door slowly opens. A confused Kate stares back at me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t text first, but I have something I need to get off my chest,” I blurt out.

“Oookay, come in I guess.” She opens the door and I step inside.

“I wasn’t faking it,” I say the words and then stare at her as if she knows what I’m saying but her face shows no signs of recognition. “Every time I held your hand or kissed you or made love to you, I meant it, Kate. I wanted those things. I wanted to know what it was like to feel your warm hand in mine.” I take a few steps toward her. “I wanted to know what your soft lips felt like against mine.” I step even closer, reaching up and running my thumb along her bottom lip. “I desperately wanted to know what your body felt like beneath mine.” She swallows, her eyes studying mine. “Every time you look at me, I feel my chest tighten. Every time you smile it feels like electricity shoots through me.”

“Damon,” she says, her eyes filling with tears.

“It was real for me, Kate; every second of it was real. You deserve happiness and love, Kate. You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for.” I place a hand on either side of her face. “I’m in love with you,” I whisper. The tears that have been gathering in her eyes tumble down her cheeks as she shakes her head. I lean in and kiss her, the tears moistening her lips. I press my forehead against hers and close my eyes. “Tell me you felt it too, Kate. Tell me you meant it. Tell me I mean something to you.” I’m begging, pleading, but I don’t care.

She reaches her hands up, grasping mine and pulling them away from her face as she steps back. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I can’t do this.”

My arms fall and it feels like my heart is in my stomach. I hang my head. I don’t say another word. I just reach into my coat pocket, pull out the letter and place it on the counter, then I turn and walk out of her apartment.

16

KATE

He’s in love with me? I repeat the words to myself over and over again in my head. I can’t even process what just happened. I was so overwhelmed yet scared. I didn’t want to just fall into his arms and get swept up in my own emotions. I need to process things, to understand what my own feelings are.

Instead of falling on the floor and sobbing like I did when I let Chad walk out of my life, a small smile spreads across my lips and I reach up and touch them. They’re still warm from his kiss. Butterflies dance in my stomach as I close my eyes and hear his words in my head. Then I remember the letter he placed on the counter. My eyes pop open and I reach for it.

I take the letter to the couch, completely unsure of the contents. Oh God, I think to myself, what if this letter has some dark secret that will ruin any chance of us being together. I push the fears aside and pull the letter from the envelope.

Dear Kate,

By now you hopefully not only know how truly sorry I am for hurting you and causing you pain, not only this last week but since we’ve known each other. I’ve been a selfish, entitled asshole without any regard for your feelings and I cannot express to you how truly sorry I am. I don’t deserve your forgiveness; I know that implicitly.

I hope you also know that I love you, truly and deeply. I know that probably seems unlikely given how I’ve treated you but the truth is, I was insecure and immature and projecting. I knew from the moment my eyes landed on you that I wanted you and I knew within fifteen minutes of speaking with you that you were too good for me. So instead of being a man and being respectful and kind to you, I tortured you because I wanted you so badly and had convinced myself that a woman like you would never fall for me. I hope I’m wrong. I hope that you saw through it all. I hope that you will give me a chance to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve. But even if you don’t, I won’t stop loving you, but I will respect you and your wishes.

The other thing I wanted to tell you about, the main reason for this letter, is to tell you why I don’t celebrate the holidays with my family. I don’t have a family anymore. I lost them eight years ago.

When I was twenty-four, I was living here in Chicago. I had this amazing job where I was making five times what any other twenty-four-year-old was making. Life was good but I was bitter and angry at my family. I felt like they never took the time to come visit me in Chicago; they were too comfortable in their life back in Iowa. They hated the city and I felt like they always expected me to be the one to travel to see them. So, one Christmas I just decided I wasn’t going home. I didn’t tell them why; I didn’t even bother telling them at all actually. So they decided to pile in the car and drive here to surprise me. The weather turned on the drive and my parents and younger sister all died in a car crash that night. I’d give anything to go back and tell them why I was hurting, to explain to them that I wanted to feel like I mattered to them still. Instead, I just became angry at them and pulled away. I do blame myself for what happened. I know you’re a much better person than me and you’d never let things get that far with your family, but please understand that’s why I pushed so hard for you to be open and honest with them about your feelings. Life is so short and unpredictable. Whatever it is you’re feeling, say it; whatever you want, go for it.

Thank you for being an amazing friend to me, even when I didn’t deserve it. You are the most wonderful person, Kate, and I hope you NEVER doubt that.

All my love,

Damon

I drop the letter onto my lap. My heart breaks into a million pieces for him. I want to run after him and pull him into my arms and tell him it wasn’t his fault. I want to tell him that I’m in love with him too, but I know that I need to take the weekend to process things.

I reread the part about why he’s been so cruel to me over the last few years. It stings. I thought he hated me. I think back to the bullshit theory our teachers and parents taught us as children—if boys like you, they tease you and throw rocks at you. Ugh, what a nonsensical and misogynist crock of shit. I know that if Damon and I do end up together, that’s something we’ll need to work through. I also sit back and think about my own actions, how I fed into his entitlement and cockiness by constantly belittling him and teasing him right back.

“Oh boy.” I sigh as I lie back on the couch. “We need some serious therapy,” I mutter, laughing to myself at the insane turn of events that has unfolded this last week.

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