The Other F-Word (27 page)

I wondered if I should just keep quiet or make something up. I was digging a big hole for myself, but in the end I decided I’d let her into my insecurities. “Oh, I thought maybe you’d tell me I’m too old for your son. That I don’t belong with him. I’d say that I care for him a great deal and he’s an adult. And you’d say he’s still your son and it’s your job to step in when he’s making a mistake. And then you’d take out your chequebook and ask me how much money it would take for me to walk away from him. I’d say there wasn’t enough money in the world that would make me do that. We’d argue a bit more and then you’d write me a check anyway. I’d rip it up into a million pieces and throw it into the air like confetti. Then Damien would come out and that would be the worst, because I would never want to come between a mother and child. I also would never give him up.” I was blabbering like a fool. I smiled weakly at her. “I know that probably sounds ridiculous now that I’ve said it out loud.”

“No, I can understand why you’d think I would react in that manner. It makes sense.”

“It does?” All my nerves came back a hundred-fold, like a physical force assaulting my body.

She smiled slyly. It was Damien’s smile. “Yes…if I was Joan Collins and this was
Dynasty
.”

There was a second of silence as I took in her words. Then I burst out laughing. So did she, ending the tension.

“You have quite an imagination, Emmie.”

“Too much.”

She dropped her voice, and her wide smile disappeared as she moved closer to me. “I will tell you my son has had his fair share of heartache. More than a man should endure.”

“You’re referring to Annabelle and Sarah?” I still didn’t know who Sarah was. Damien shut down whenever I mentioned it, and I had stopped asking because it hurt him.

“He is a strong man, but he has a tender heart. Do not break it, or else we will have another kind of conversation. It won’t involve any check-writing, but there will be drama.”

“Understood.” It was not unlike the conversations I’d had with Rick and Adam when they’d become serious with my daughters.

“Have you talked about the future?”

“Not particularly.”

“It might be a conversation you should have soon. I have to say I haven’t seen him laugh and smile like this in a very long time.”

“Damien’s always happy,” I said.

She shook her head. “No, dear, he’s not.”

“I see.” I wasn’t sure if I did. She was telling me he was different with me. I felt different with him too. It was a powerful emotion—the realisation that someone has changed your life so much they’ve left an indelible mark.

“Now, tell me more about this vegan thing. I might want to try it out.”

We enjoyed a relaxed meal together. We all talked and joked. Angela didn’t care for quinoa, but she did like the buckwheat pancakes he’d made. I thought everything was delicious and had two helpings. I’d been eating a lot more lately, but then I’d also been expending a great deal of energy with my hot-as-hell boyfriend.
Boyfriend…love that word
.

“Told you, you’d be begging for more,” Damien replied with a smirk.

I did my best not to laugh, but it was difficult. I was enjoying the company. It wasn’t unlike a brunch at my house. Damien had even turned on music and we listened to Angela’s favourite Dean Martin soundtrack.

He received a phone call as our meal was winding down. “I have to go. I just got a scoop that a building on Bloomers is about to hit the market and I want to check it out.”

He started picking up the plates, but I took them from him. “I can do the dishes. It’s only fair, since you cooked.”

“Do you want help?” Derek offered, picking up his plate.

“She doesn’t need your help,” Damien grumbled, taking the plate from him.

“Really, it’s not a problem,” I said.

“In that case, I think we should be going too,” Angela announced. “It was nice meeting you, dear.”

We said our goodbyes. Angela actually hugged me—not a pat on the back type hug, but a tight embrace. It was sweet. Derek tried to hug me too, but Damien sort of stepped between us so we settled for an awkward handshake instead.

“What’s the matter, bro? Afraid she’ll leave you for a hotter man?” Derek joked.

“Yeah, let me know if you see anyone fitting that description hanging around her,” Damien retorted.

The sibling rivalry was adorable and not unlike the way Rick, Dillon and Adam acted with each other, or my girls for that matter. I watched as Damien walked them to the door. He bent down so his mother could kiss him on the cheek. One sure way to know if a man was decent was how he treated his mother, and it was clear Damien was above average in that regard. She whispered something to him, nodding towards me. My ears started burning immediately. He grinned at her, hugging her close.

I busied myself taking the plates into the kitchen. He came behind me, embracing me, while I scrubbed a dish.

“She liked you. I never had a doubt.”

“I liked her too. Very much.”

“Baby, you don’t have to do the dishes. Helen will be here this afternoon.”

“I’m not leaving these for your housekeeper. I can do them.”

“Okay, fine. This is going to take me a few hours. Do you want to have dinner tonight? We can try the role-playing again if you want, although if I was casting you in a role, it would be naked, hot girl in bed.”

“Dinner sounds good.”

“I’ll pick you up at six. Your place or mine tonight?”

It was a question we asked each other almost every night, except for those times Damien had business trips or I was spending time with my family.

“Yours—the realtor’s showing my house tonight.”

“I think we should talk about that. Have you decided where you’re going to live once you sell?”

I shrugged, enjoying the way his hard body felt against me. “I’ll start looking soon. Probably an apartment close to work.”

“What about here?”

“Damien, I can’t afford the rent in this building. I don’t even think I could swing a parking spot here. It’s one of the most expensive zip codes in the country.”

He sighed, spinning me around to face him. “I mean here with me.”

I gaped at him, blinking into understanding. “I don’t know about that.”

“Because of your whole ‘kept woman’ theory?” He used air quotes.

It was partially because of that. I wasn’t an old fashion person by any means, yet it would be hard to explain to my children that I was living with a man. How ironic that the two reasons opposed each other. I was modern enough to want to earn my own keep, but old fashioned enough not to move in with a man without marriage. How stupid?

“Yes,” I said because it was simpler to explain.

“I’ll tell you what. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll charge you rent—whatever you’d pay at an apartment. I kind of like the idea of being your landlord. We can have some fun role play with that one.”

I dropped my head. “Damien—”

He tilted my chin up, brushing his lips against mine. “Jessie, I want to go to sleep with you next to me every night and start each day with you. This place always feels brighter to me when you’re here. Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good, I’ll see you tonight.”

He kissed me again. His kisses still caused a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. I craved them. I stood on my tip toes, putting my arms around him and holding him close.

“Baby, I really have to go.”

“I just wanted to hold you for a minute. Let me.”

He tightened our embrace, picking me up and setting me on the counter. We made out like teenagers and his hands roamed across my body. “Padded perfection,” he whispered as his fingers rubbed against my bra.

I laughed, pressing my lips against his neck.

He finally broke us apart. “Stop it, sexy librarian. The other gang members might make fun of me,” he said, breathing hard. He put his arms around my waist, lifting me off the counter. He kissed my right cheek while running his finger down the other. It was a gesture I’d grown accustomed to, but each time he did it, it sent shivers down my spine.

I returned to the dishes, but before he walked out, I remembered what I had to ask him. “Damien?”

“Yes?” He paused, halfway out the kitchen.

“What did your mom whisper to you before she left? You don’t have to tell me if it’s private. I was just curious.”

He was silent for a minute, shuffling his feet as a sheepish smile crept across his gorgeous face. “Just a mom thing.” He stalked away.

I chased after him. I grabbed the large, heavy elevator door before it shut.

“What are you doing?”

“Okay, now you have to tell me what she said.”

His statement had heightened my curiosity. I was a mother, and moms didn’t say things just for kicks.

He gave me the sweetest smile, full of warmth and love. “She said we’d make her some beautiful grandchildren someday.”

I dropped my hand, keeping my smile glued in place, while I watched the elevator doors shut. Shut on us.

I walked back to the apartment, feeling every one of my years, like the spell of my newfound youth had been broken along with my heart. My shoulders slumped as I entered the kitchen. I kept washing the dishes like some kind of mechanical robot, not wanting to absorb his words, pretending I hadn’t heard them. It wasn’t until a platter slipped from my fingers that the panic took full root. The tears scorched my face as I slid to the floor among the pile of broken glass, depleted of all my previous elation with that one simple sentence.

How could I have been such an idiot and not thought of this? It occurred to me that in fact I had. Our age difference worried me so much, despite his constant reassurances, but deep down on a subconscious level, the fear was justified. Of course, he’d want children and marriage and all those things that were no longer part of my vocabulary. What was I going to do? I loved him, but I wasn’t right for him. Somehow, I had always known that.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I’d spent the day doing that last cleaning for the potential buyers while listening to Rodriguez’s
Crucify Your Mind,
on repeat. The work helped distract me. I polished things that were polished. I dusted areas until I was actually applying dust, not removing it. I scoured the baseboards until I realised I was scrubbing the paint right off them. In the midst of it all, I discovered pieces of the past. I found beads in a vent from Stevie’s jewellery-making kit when she was six. I found a softball of Marley’s that had to be at least ten years old under her bed. I found a piece of paper with a few scrawled forgotten words of poetry under Billie’s wastebasket. It was trash. It was treasure. I kept it all.

I thought about Damien and that conversation. I justified that he’d never said he wanted kids. We’d never talked about it. Truthfully, I hadn’t wanted to. If we did, then decisions would need to be made, and it wouldn’t go well.

He picked me up for dinner. I donned a body-hugging maroon dress with my favourite push up bra and my highest heels. I wore my hair down and the diamond studs he’d bought me in my ears. I told myself, always look good when you’re feeling sad. It helps.

“You look beautiful,” he said, opening the door for me.

“Thank you. Not so bad yourself, handsome.”

“What happened to your finger?” he asked when he got into the driver’s seat.

“What?”

He clasped my wrist, holding up my hand with the bandaged finger.

“I broke one of your plates this morning.”

“Are you all right?” He kissed the bandage.

“It wasn’t a plate, but that big platter you have with the square design.”

“Are you all right?” he repeated.

“It just slipped out of my hand. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t fucking care about that. Are you all right?”

“Fine, can we go, please?”

He looked like he wanted to say more. I didn’t want him to. I just wanted to enjoy tonight. How many more would we have? I brought up the property he went to look at and we chatted about it the rest of the way.

The restaurant was elegant and expensive. We waited behind a man and a little girl in a princess outfit, waving a magic wand at us. Damien smiled at her.

“I played a princess today,” she said, grinning with a missing front tooth that I’d always thought was adorable on children.

“I thought you were a real princess,” Damien said.

“Silly, there aren’t real princesses.”

“There are. They live in faraway places, but they exist.”

The exchange between them both melted and broke my heart in the same instance.

“Come on, sweetie. We have to go,” her father said, taking her hand.

“But I don’t want to go.” She pouted in that cute way that made people want to grant a child her every wish.

“I forgot to make a reservation. I didn’t realise we needed one,” her father explained, looking contrite.

“We always eat here on Mommy’s birthday. You promised we could still come, so I could have the fire dessert.” This wasn’t a normal temper tantrum. The little girl’s lips trembled.

“Fire dessert?” I asked her.

“Baked Alaska,” Damien explained.

Her father took her hand, but she remained rooted, tears clouding her bright eyes.

“Can I assist?” Damien interjected.

“My wife always made the reservations. Just one more thing I forgot that she did.” The father said, giving us a sad smile that mirrored his daughter’s.

Damien nodded. “Take ours.”

“That’s generous of you, but we can’t do that.”

“I insist. I couldn’t enjoy the meal knowing a princess didn’t get her fire dessert.” Damien gave the little girl a goofy grin, which she mimicked, wiping her tears. He gestured to the maître d’. “Please seat them at the table reserved for Wolfe,” he said.

“Thank you,” the man said gratefully, shaking Damien’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Jessie, I should have asked if you were all right with that.”

I swallowed back the huge lump in my throat. “Of course I am.”

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Fine.”

Damien called out to a man standing off to the side, “Joel, can you please make sure their tab gets sent to me? And that you set aside a double piece of Baked Alaska for her?”