if you don’t know what you’re willing to compromise on?”
“Are we talking about the book or us?”
“I suppose I’m talking about us. I’m sorry, let me ask something else.”
“It’s okay. You can ask me anything. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t asked more questions. My answer would be, only you can decide what’s good for you or not good for you. Why don’t you ask more questions?”
“You’ve met my parents. They’re inquisitive and intrusive. Some things are better left alone. Some things aren’t anybody’s business.” I snuggle against him. “I have lots of questions, but you come across as someone who doesn’t like to share. That’s why I don’t ask.”
“I don’t have dark secrets, just painful memories.” He looks down at his hands as he nervously twists the lower part of his T-shirt around his fingers.
“Hopefully, someday you’ll trust me enough to share your pain.” I don’t look at him because I don’t want him to see my eyes. To see the need I have for him to talk to me.
“What do you know of pain?” He asks with a hint of sarcasm.
“More than you’d think. Do you think you can come out unscathed when your best friend climbs into your arms to cry over the loss of her mother? What about when your brother gets beaten to a pulp for liking men instead of women? What about loving someone who can never love you back? I know pain, Damon. I feel yours every day, and it hurts me too.”
He pulls away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t consider Emma and Chris. You would feel the pain of the people you love.” He pauses before continuing. “You want to know about Mara, so I’ll tell you what I can.” He runs his hand through his hair. “She was the first girl I ever loved. We dated for two years, and I foolishly thought she was the one. We lost our virginity together. We lived and breathed each other for so long, she became a part of me.”
He inhales and closes his eyes.
“I emptied my soul into that relationship, and she destroyed me with one act of deception. I caught her with another man, and it gutted me.” He moves so we can look into each other’s eyes. “I haven’t seen her since. I don’t know why she called. Maybe she feels guilty. Maybe it’s something else. It was ten years ago, and it still fills me with rage when I think about it.”
“Thank you for sharing. It means more than you know.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next two weeks pass by quickly, and the grand opening of Ahz is upon us.
Damon and I never discussed what he shared weeks ago. I think about his pain and how it would feel to have someone betray your trust in such a way. Sometimes I fantasize about running into Mara and kicking her ass.
“What are you wearing tonight?” I ask as he walks from the bed to the bathroom. He’s a gorgeous man, solidly built and beautifully displayed.
“I’ll wear a suit. Do you want to pick it out for me?” he asks.
“I love the suit you had on the day I came to your office to return your money. It’s a blue pinstripe. That was the day you kissed me senseless and sent me on my way.”
“That’s the one I’ll wear, then. What about you?”
“Definitely pants. I’m walking all over the club tonight, and I’m not showing my goodies to anybody.”
“Anyone but me, right?” He raises a brow in amusement.
“We have an agreement. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
“Never forget it.” He dresses in the suit he wore the day we met.
“I’ll be at the club all day, so I can’t have lunch with you. When will you come over?” I ask.
He tightens the knot. “I’ll make it before everything gets crazy.”
It’s disappointing I won’t be able to see him at lunch today, but I know he has a busy schedule. There’s a press conference in the afternoon and a ribbon-cutting ceremony at five. Then all hell breaks loose.
I change into navy blue leather pants and a silver button-down blouse Trevor helped me pick out but can’t decide on which shoes to wear.
“Damon. Do you think I should wear the heels or the boots?”
He looks me up and down. His eyes turn a darker blue—a stormy I’ve-got-to-have-you-now blue. With one boot and one heel on, I turn in a circle so he can see them from every angle.
“I have a fondness for the heels. They bring back pleasant memories. I