“Are you still writing?”
The question catches me off guard. “No. I haven’t really had the time.” Besides, Damien works hard to provide me with the life I have. I need to make sure I’m doing my part too, and spending my days losing myself in writing romance novels isn’t productive.
“You should get back into it, Luc.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, biting at the inside of my cheek. “Maybe.”
He chuckles. “I miss hearing you talk about your stories. It wasfun to listen to you ramble about the characters in your head like they were real people.”
“They felt pretty real to me,” I defend, smiling a bit.
“They felt real to me too.” He sighs. “If you end up writing something, send it to me. It’s been a while since I’ve read a Luca original. I still have your journal of novel ideas.”
That gets a laugh out of me. “Oh God, that was a mess.”
“Nah, kid you had the best stories. They were full of wonder and hope.”
I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No. Kid me was spewing nonsense.” Stories of love and happily ever afters. “Well, I better go. I need to start dinner.”
“You should take the night off. Have Damien cook dinner for you.”
Not a chance. “You know Damien doesn’t cook.”
I can practically hear Austin’s eye roll. “Yeah, I know. God forbid he makes a mess on one of his suits.”
“He works hard to provide for me,” I snap, harsher than I mean to. “He deserves a good home-cooked meal.”
“I’m kidding, Luca.”
No. I know that. I do. I blow out a breath. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”
There’s tense silence on the line, and I get a ding from my phone.
Damien
On my way home, love. Can’t wait to eat. I’m starving.
Shit.
“Hey, I’ve gotta go,” I blurt out, cutting off whatever Austin was about to say. “Damien’s on his way home.”
There’s a pause, and then, “Oh…kay. Call me soon, and don’t wait another month, okay? I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” I whisper. “I’ll try.”
I’m pulling the phone away from my ear to hang up when I hear his voice, so I pause. “Try to write something.”
“I’ll do my best. Bye.”
I don’t even wait for him to say goodbye before I hang up and delete the call from my recent calls.
Thekeyinthedoor makes my heart skip a beat. I smooth down my shirt, waiting just inside. Damien swings the door open and steps in. His blue eyes sweep the living room before settling on me. He looks tired today. There’s a little crease between his brows, and a lock of his normally slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair is falling across his forehead.
“Hey, let me take that.” I reach out carefully to take his briefcase from him, but he stops me with a hand around my wrist. It’s not rough, just firm, but I freeze anyway, darting my gaze to his.
“No need, love.” He smiles. “Thank you, though.”
He leans forward, pressing his lips to mine. It’s soft and quick—more habit than affection—but I still appreciate it.
