He says softly, “You didn’t call me yesterday.”
Then, I see it. Those gorgeous blue eyes are full of pain and disappointment. My heart flounders. I hurt him. Nothing has ever made it clearer to me that he’s not like Kurt. I’m suddenly seeing it so clearly, and I’m ashamed I didn’t see it sooner. He’s never going to be like Kurt. I had so many reasons I didn’t call him yesterday, and none of them were about him. They were all about me – my insecurities, my trust issues.
“I… I know. I’m sorry…” I don’t know how to express all the things I’m thinking. I could make an excuse like I thought he was busy, but it’s not fair to blame him. He’s not the issue; it’s me. I’m the problem. “I wanted to, but everything felt too big and then I couldn’t.”
He studies my face intently, waiting for me to continue, but I just can’t right now. This is all too much, and I don’t want to say the wrong thing. Tears well up in the corners of my eyes as I tighten my arms around him. I cling to him for a minute, trying to work through my chaotic thoughts. And because he’s the amazing man he is, he immediately picks up on the fact that I’m not ready to have this conversation. He steers me gently towards the kitchen and sets me on one of the barstools.
“I’m going to make you some breakfast.” He starts to say something else, but changes his mind and closes his mouth firmly, then tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, before rubbing my back soothingly. God, I missed this last night. Yesterday could have been so much less terrible if Damon had been there. I should have called him, and yet I don’t know how to tell him. Tell him I trust him. Tell him I see him. Tell him I love him.
Abby’s bark brings me out of my self-reflection. I move to let her in, but Damon intervenes.
“I’ve got this, baby. Why don’t you sit down and relax?” He gestures towards the breakfast bar before letting Abby back into the house. She’s thrilled to see him, her tail wagging so hard that her butt is wiggling. He squats down to give her a rub, telling her what a good girl she’s been, and it’s the most adorable thing ever.
“Are you just the goodest girl? Yes, you are.” He coos at my pretty puppy. Abby’s all over the praise, licking him and rubbing up against him like she can’t get enough.
Same, girl. Same.
Sipping my coffee, I watch him, perfectly at home in my kitchen, pulling together what I’m sure will be a fantastic breakfast. He’s got some serious talent in the kitchen. I follow the play of his strong back muscles as he moves, white dress shirt just tight enough to show them off through the thin fabric. Broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist and that glorious ass. I’m never not going to enjoy looking at this man’s body. It’s truly a work of art. Maybe Lainy was right about hockey butts. They are pretty great. The thing is, there’s only one that I’m interested in checking out, and I’m shameless in my appreciation.
The calm confidence he exudes soothes the anxious part of me that’s been running rampant since yesterday. I relax back into my seat, secure in the knowledge that there is nothing I’m required to do right now because he’s got it. There’s something so freeing about knowing someone has your back, someone you can trust. When he’s around, there’s an ease that allows me to let go of always having to be the one in control. It’s such a relief physically that I let go of a loud sigh, pushing the tension out through my breath.
We still need to have a conversation, but it’s reassuring that he’s willing to go at my pace. I just need a minute, and knowing that he respects that is huge for me.
“Feel better?” he asks, sending me a soft smile. It hits me hard. He enjoys taking care of me. It’s not for show or obligation. He genuinely likes it, and that’s a revelation for someone like me who’s taken care of everyone around her for decades. I understand that need because I love taking care of the people I care about, too. Still, I can’t deny that it’s such a relief to finally be the one who’s getting taken care of, even if it’s hard for me to let go of control.
“So much better.” I smile back at him, letting him see my appreciation and affection. Yes, we need to talk, but for a few minutes, I’m just going to bask in the comfort of his pampering and watch a handsome man make me some food. And it’s everything I need right now.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Damon
I busy myself with cooking, so I won’t demand more from her than she can give right now. All it took was seeing her face to know that I couldn’t add to her emotional shit storm by commanding her to share her feelings. I breathe deeply, reminding myself that she’s not the kind of person who lets people in easily. I force myself to be patient, something I don’t want to do, but I do anyway. She’s worth it. We’re worth it.
This is about showing her what it looks like when someone shows up for her, when you can count on your partner to support you. Sure, maybe she isn’t in the same place I am with how she feels, but that’s not a deal-breaker. I’m not going anywhere, and what we have is worth the wait. In the meantime, I can show her how great life would be if we were together.
I plate us both a veggie and cheese omelet with a side of wheat toast, and bring it over to the table.
“Here you go.” I set it down with a flourish, trying for a smile. It works, and my heart soars with hope and warm affection. God, she’s so damn beautiful.
“This looks delicious.”
“Need more coffee, while I’m up?” I offer.
“You don’t need to, Ican…”
“Let me, please.” I gently grip her shoulder as I reach for her coffee cup. I refill her cup, adding a large dollop of the hazelnut creamer I know she prefers, before placing it on the table next to her plate.
She gives me a bemused look before taking a sip.
“This is perfect. How did you know?”
I shrug, the corner of my mouth curling up.
“I just pay attention.”
Her lush lips curve into a small smile as she takes another sip.
We finish up our breakfast. I keep it light by discussing the interview this morning. I share the high points as well as some of the compromises I made. We both agree that he’s the best candidate for the team we’re building, and I feel my chest swell with pride at how much faith she has in my judgment. We both agree to forgo the Bob Ingram interview. He’s not a good fit, and to be honest, he was more of a backup choice. My depression and anxiety are all but gone, and I feel my usual optimism returning with a vengeance as I anticipate the new season.
