It wasn’t her place to say something like that.
But that didn’t stop her from sending him another text.
Ever since he met you, his performance has been lagging. One more incident and he’ll be let go. Bigg’s job is his life. Every second you spend distracting him, you’re killing him.
It was a lie. It had to be. If Damien was dying, he wouldn’t have taken Matthew to bed and showered him with praise until he believed—truly believed—that this pregnancy wasn’t the end of the world. If Matthew was bad for him, Damien wouldn’t have invited him to come live with him in New York.
Damien loved him—he’d said so, and Matthew believed it. If he hadn’t meant it, Matthew would have seen it in his eyes. He knew from experience what it looked like when a man said one thing and meant another, and Damien wasn’t it.
Matthew’s phone chimed. Another text from Nadja arrived.
Anyway, think about it. I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but if you knew Bigg like I know him, I think you’d come to the same conclusion. If you break his heart, you’ll save his life.
It wasn’t true.
Itwasn’t true.
Matthew dropped his phone onto the bed and hooked his arm over his mouth. His chest tightened and saliva pooled in his mouth—the morning sickness was back, made worse by his emotional distress. He took a cautious step back, hoping that he might be able to walk it off, but it was a mistake—his stomach churned and his throat constricted. Knowing what came next, Matthew chucked his clothes aside, launched himself across the room, and burst into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he was violently ill.
By the time his nausea had passed, Matthew was a quivering mess. He grabbed one of the fluffy white towels from the handrail near the toilet, folded it, and used it to rest his head on the toilet seat while he tried to rationalize what was going on.
Damien was an adult. He was mature and responsible. If he was suffering, he would have addressed Matthew about it directly. What a miserable person Nadja had to be to say something like that to him. After she met him, maybe she’d come to her senses—it was easy to imagine a person was one way with such a limited understanding of their identity. If Nadja didn’t even know his name, she was bound not to know the full story.
Feeling slightly better about himself, Matthew flushed the toilet and waited until the trickle stopped before he tried to stand. His legs wobbled, but by now he was an old pro at navigating life on unsteady ground. He cleaned himself up—top and bottom—then stumbled back into the bedroom. His phone was waiting where he’d left it, its screen black. Holding his breath, Matthew checked to see if there were any new texts. There weren’t.
Nadja must have come to her senses.
Phone in hand, Matthew crawled onto the bed and sat cross-legged in the middle. After a moment spent bracing himself, he sent a message back to Nadja.I’ll get in touch with Damien.
The message was simple, but Matthew couldn’t handle the fallout of a confrontation. For his own mental health, he blocked Nadja’s number, let out a whoosh of air from his lungs, and fell back amongst the sheets. If she discovered he’d blocked her there’d be trouble, but it would be trouble for a later day—hopefully a day when Damien would be around to moderate.
What a mess.
For now, Matthew’s issues with Nadja would have to wait. There were bigger fish to fry. If Damien didn’t get in touch with Whitcroft he’d lose his job, and with his phone out of commission it was up to Matthew to make sure he got the message.
Shaken but far from defeated, Matthew dressed. Not long after, he was out the door. A few hateful words wouldn’t keep him from accomplishing what needed to get done. Damien had been strong when Matthew had needed him to be—it was only fair he return the favor.
28
Damien
With the dreamiest look in his eyes and the goofiest grin on his face, TD said, “I do.”
Rings were exchanged, the officiant announced the new couple, and the World’s Biggest Asshole swept TD into a kiss that would have given the wedding a mature rating if it had been televised. The squintillions of people in attendance erupted into applause.
The saucy plant attached to the front row winked at Damien.
Damien did not wink back.
To further cement their marital status, Assface dipped TD irresponsibly low while they kissed. The groomsmen in the front row hooted and catcalled, and one broad-shouldered sort-of cousin called out, “Gross!” which caused a sizable portion of the first three rows to dissolve into laughter. To stick it to the man—or cousin, in this case—TD hooked his arms around Captain Buttstain’s neck and tangled his fingers in his hair. There was tongue. Damien could see it from the fifth row. He cringed.
Apparently, it was tradition in Aurora to consummate the wedding in front of all the guests and the officiant. No wonder xV had asked them all to fly out to Fiji—public sex wasn’t his bag.
While the show continued, Simon leaned in to whisper something to Harley, who smiled and kissed the side of Simon’s head. They twined their fingers together. On Damien’s other side, Mal leaned in to xV so their shoulders brushed. The gesture was about as cuddly as they could get—they held their young children in their arms while Nikki sat next to her BFF, Evie.
By the time Asswipe put TD upright, the tips of TD’s ears were red. He looked out over the crowd, blushed as bright as a traffic light, then followed his new groom at a jog down the aisle. The audience stood and cheered them on, and while Damien joined in their applause, his heart was elsewhere.
So that was it.
