My (Mostly) Secret Baby - Penelope Bloom Page 0,54

one who started this.”

“We’re both professionals.” One of us is, at least. “We’re occasionally going to have our eyes on the same athletes. It doesn’t need to turn into whatever you’re trying to make this.”

Trish ran her tongue across her lip, as if considering something. “I want to make us work again.”

I had to sit back and replay what she’d just said several times to be sure I’d heard her right. “What? You broke things off with me. You were very thorough in burning a trail of destruction in your wake, too. Why would I ever remotely consider taking you back?”

“Because I get you. I know your soft spots. I know all your secrets, Damon. Blondie doesn’t. I could see it in her eyes last night. You haven’t even told her as much as you told me. Like it or not, you need me. You were whole when you were with me, and now you’re just a shell of who you were.”

I shook my head. “I’m not having this conversation with you. And just to be sure we’re crystal clear. No. In every sense of the word, no. You and I will never happen again. So if it’s jealousy driving you to try to put a wedge between Chelsea and I, then fuck off.”

Trish smiled. “If I can’t have you, why should she get you?”

“Trish,” I warned.

She got up, then picked up my cup of coffee and sipped. “Mmm. You and I always did like it exactly the same. Didn’t we?”

She left the restaurant, and I found myself wondering if I’d just stoked the flames instead of putting them out.

26

Chelsea

I had trouble sleeping, so I woke up early Sunday morning and showered. When I got up, Damon had been asleep on the couch still, his huge body gently rocking with each breath. I’d guiltily watched him for a while, then reminded myself I needed to keep my guard up. I didn’t need to be standing there in the faint light of morning admiring the way the rising sun lit his profile, or how painfully kissable his lips were.

When I got out of the shower, he was gone. I’d been rehearsing what I was going to say while the water poured over me.

You need to learn to trust me, or I won’t ever be able to trust you. It’s not a one-way street. You can open up to me and I won’t hurt you, I promise, but if you don’t give me a chance, I can’t help.

I’d tried and tried to think of the right words to express all the frustration and confusion I felt, but nothing had seemed right. I eventually decided to just wing it when I got out, but he was gone.

I quickly threw on my clothes. A stupid part of me thought back to last night—to Trish and how supremely confident she’d been. If Damon was really bound to her by something—whether it was blackmail or personal weakness—what would happen if she’d asked him to come over for an early morning booty call?

Stupid. I knew I was being stupid, but one of the worst things about being stupid was self-awareness wasn’t always a cure.

I headed outside our hotel and started walking an aimless circle, not even knowing what I was looking for. The only thing I could think of was the offhanded comment Damon had made when I was still keeping pace with him on our jog. He’d grunted that a breakfast place looked good, and it was only a few minutes from our hotel.

I hurried there.

I arrived just in time to see Trish Jameson walking out of the restaurant. She swiveled her head, spotted me, and flashed a huge, predatory smile. “Blondie!” she called from down the street, then walked toward me.

I looked past her through the glass windows of the shop and saw Damon glaring at his plate inside. My insides went icy. Maybe I wasn’t as stupid as I thought.

“Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t fucked him. Yet,” Trish said. “Well, I guess that’s not accurate. We fucked hundreds of times already, but I mean I haven’t had that big, perfect dick of his yet this weekend.”

“What were you doing in there together?”

“You want the truth? Because if you ask him, he’s just going to give you some bullshit story about what a crazy bitch I am. The truth is he never got over me. He still wants to make things work, and I just might let him. So we were planning a date for