“—she wouldn’t take that bastard back if he begged her?”
“Exactly.”
God, no. That I’ve allowed myself to become someone who can wield such destruction, and with such an irrational reaction to a conversation I only heard half of is unspeakable. Unforgiveable. My chest hurts when I think of the look on Amanda’s face after our last conversation. She was right, I never would have listened to her, never would have believed her, if she’d told me what Celeste just did. Thank goodness for friends like that. Amanda used to be such a friend to me, along with everything else.
“What can I do now?” I ask Celeste, as if she’s such a friend to me. “She’ll never talk to me now.”
“Probably not. She’s pretty destroyed. After what happened between you two in Kauai, and then your takeover of the company—yes, she told me that too—she just can’t take anything else. But I wanted you to hear the truth. Hopefully you believe it.”
“I…thank you, Celeste. I’m so grateful you told me, but more than that, thank you for being such a good friend to Amanda. She needs you now more than ever. I know I’ve ruined everything now, but I want you to know that I really did—do—love her.”
“I think you thought you did. But clearly not enough to discuss the situation before you flew into a rage. But I also know that your history together complicates things. And Amanda broke up with you because she loves you so much. She knew her father would try his best to do just what you did to him today.”
I’ve heard all I need to hear. I thank Celeste and end the call with as much dignity as I can. The situation seems pretty damned hopeless and I shake my head inwardly at how star-crossed Amanda and I have been all this time. At least we’ve behaved like we’re the lead characters in a bad remake of Romeo and Juliet, only instead of ending in our deaths, we just keep creating a deeper and fresher hell for each other and ourselves.
Despite everything, yet another new vision takes shape in my selfish, overactive mind. It’s a spin on what I’ve done today, and it will probably fail. If it does fail, I deserve it. But it’s also the only way to salvage this situation. It’s the highest risk I’ll ever take, though, because the outcome of this new venture relies solely on Amanda’s forgiveness. I almost laugh out loud at the idea. But if I don’t at least try, I’ll never stop crying as long as I live.
24
Damon
I haveno way of knowing if Amanda will be at her condo when I get there or not.
Celeste mentioned that once today’s business was concluded, Amanda mentioned she wanted to leave town, start a new life somewhere away from Los Angeles, her family, everything. Away from me. And hell, she might already be on a plane to Timbuktu. But I silently pray the entire time I’m driving. If God will just grant me this, if Amanda is home, I will fight with everything I have to fix this.
My palms are sweating like I’ve just arrived at my first high school dance. But my date won’t be impressed by my clothes, my car, or my bank account. I don’t even have a fucking corsage for her. But she’s my girl. She’s alwaysbeenmy girl. I know that now.
I cut the engine, and as I step out of the car, I shed my suit jacket and tie. I wish I was wearing paint-covered jeans and a tee shirt. I unfasten the top two buttons on my shirt and roll my sleeves up. I’m about to engage in the most important battle of my life. Only this time instead of fighting against the love of my life, I’m fighting to win her back for the last time.
My hand shakes as I ring the doorbell. I hope I’m not imagining the footsteps coming toward the door. If she opens it, she could throw a marble statue at my head before I can say anything, and she’ll most definitely slam it in my face. So I guess I should just roll with it when, after peeking through the sheer curtain on the glass side panel, Amanda starts yelling at me through the door.
“No. Nonononono! I don’t know why you have the gall to come here, Damon, but Iwillcall the police. Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. My. House!”
There’s only one thing I can say that might get her to let me talk to her.
“I spoke to Celeste.”
I stand there for what feels like an eternity waiting for her to respond. At this point, she’s not telling me to fuck off again, so I’ll sleep on the porch if I have to. Finally, she yanks open the door, yelling, midsentence, wearing only a robe. I’m prepared to just let her yell. I know everything she has to say is true.
“…what universe, Damon, would you think it would be okay to come here? What do you fucking WANT from me? You’ve taken everything! I fucked up, five years ago, OKAY? Is that what you came to hear? Well, now you have. You’ve done everything you set out to do, punished me sufficiently, destroyed my family, and I’m done, DONE!”
“I know, Mandy, I—”
“Don’t fucking call me that!” I’m not trying to scare her. I just start inching forward.
“And stay away from me, I mean it!”
“Okay, okay,” I say, and put my hands in the air. “I won’t come another step forward.”
She’s crying now and still backing away from me.
“I can’t do this, Damon, I can’t take it.”
“I know. I…I’m sorry.” She sobs, and that was probably the wrong thing to say, but really, what’s the right thing? “Don’t cry, honey. I don’t want to make you cry, I just…”
She sobs even harder, and when she backs sideways into the wall in her foyer, she slides to the floor. Jesus, I am always making this woman fall to the ground. I stay true to my word and I don’t come any closer. But tears are burning the back of my eyes too, and I sit down on the tile floor in the foyer too. I want to go to her, hold her and tell her I’m sorry over and over and over again. But I just let her cry, and I lock eyes with her, and I pour all the love I have for her into my gaze.
Gradually, her sobs diminish into quiet little hiccupping whimpers, until she decides to speak again.
