The absent smile on Damien’s face decayed. The shattered pieces of his heart jabbed him beneath the ribs and ripped open his stomach, leaving him bottomlessly hollow.
Matthew deserved to be cared for—to be pampered, cherished, and valued. He didn’t deserve the pain of goodbye.
The crowd on the wharf grew smaller, but Damien refused to move. For those eyes he would have stayed forever, but some dreams simply weren’t meant to be.
* * *
Glitter exploded behind the screen of Damien’s phone, startling him so much, he almost dropped it. It was virtual, of course—Gwynn wasn’tthatcrafty—but somehow, he’d managed to rig the Single Dad chat so that the digital glitter expanded beyond the limits of the screen. It shimmered for a minute, then blew away. An automated message generated.
Glitter-Bot:YOU THOUGHT THE WAR WAS OVER, BUT IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUN
Under ordinary circumstances, Damien would have busted his gut laughing. Leave it to Gwynn, creator of the placenta-bot, to come up with something so diabolical. He had to have programmed it before leaving for Fiji, no doubt anticipating that he and Damien would spend the week locked in mortal combat only to come away at a stalemate. Only, things hadn’t gone according to plan, and the circumstances were far from normal. Wounded, Damien wilted into his seat and set his phone screen-down on his lap. The stewardess on duty handed him his second glass of scotch.
“Thank you.” Damien accepted the glass and tilted his head, setting his gaze on the bottom of the overhead luggage compartment. Nadja had likely had to sell her soul to the devil to land him a first-class seat on such short notice.
He wished she would have kept it to herself.
Needing a distraction, Damien downed his drink, set his glass aside, and picked up his phone again. Determined to push the automated message off the screen, he sent out a volley of texts.
KnotMyProblem: I almost died of a heart attack, @Gwynning
KnotMyProblem: That was your evil plan all along, wasn’t it?
KnotMyProblem: PS: that’s like bringing a gun to a knife fight. Next time you want to get down and dirty, maybe give a man a little warning first. Or at least buy me dinner.
Gwynning: What was that you were saying not all that long ago? That all’s fair in love and war? I’d have to double check with the committee that governs life, reality, and the universe at large, but I’m pretty sure this qualifies as “all”
KnotMyProblem: LIES
KnotMyProblem: FYI, you missed the general assembly last week. A motion was passed classifying the use of glitter-bots as weapons as ‘down and dirty’ tactics
KnotMyProblem: If you’re not careful, the committee that governs life, reality, and the universe at large will find out about your war crimes and lock your ass up. They’ll make being detained by the TSA look like a fun weekend adventure
Several of the Single Dads started typing. Their replies came in almost all at once.
TeenDad2: LOL
LoveHarley: If only you knew
xVerity: The committee has no governance over the Single Dad chat. The bot stands.
The stewardess returned to collect Damien’s glass, which he gladly gave her. Before he could return to the conversation and refute xV’s point, the flight crew closed the cabin door and the departure procedure began. Begrudgingly, Damien did up his seatbelt and returned his seat to its upright position. By the time he’d finished, not only had the Single Dad chat accrued several new messages, but he had a text from Nadja as well.
I wasn’t able to program alarms into your phone for this one, so I’m checking in. You made it, right? Tell me I didn’t verbally spar with the booking agent for nothing.
Knowing Nadja, it had been less of a spar and more of a massacre, but Damien let the details slide.You’ll be glad to know my ass is in the seat and my buckle is fastened. We’re getting ready for takeoff. Next stop, Honolulu.
Twenty-some-odd hours should give you plenty of time to plan the perfect way to skin a lawyer.
Damien snorted.Not just a lawyer. As soon as I get back, I’m going head hunting, and a certain Bankes is on top of my list.
Oh, I love it when you’re feisty. Get ’em, boss!
The plane rolled away from the jet bridge. Damien glanced up from his phone and spotted the exasperated stewardess mid routine. With a broad, contrived smile, she gestured with her index and middle fingers to the exits in front, in back, and to the sides. Damien didn’t envy her. At least when he was at work, asshole-ish behavior wasn’t just accepted, but encouraged.
Fucking Bankes.
The fucker was going down.
