“So, you decided to purchase every conceivable hobby and try them all out overnight?”
Damon winces. “Maybe.”
I cock my head, finding him rather endearing at this moment. “And did you? Find a hobby?”
“What do you think?”
My gaze flits to the corner of his apartment that’s littered with canvases. Emery told me about Damon’s paintings. I always knew he loved art, but picturing Damon with a paintbrush? It was laughable. But the painting I found on his bed in the villa was…beautiful. And even the half-finished pieces he has leaning against the walls are intriguing.
“Don’t,” he grunts, following my sightline. “Those are hideous. I should toss them in the trash.”
Grabbing a spatula from the drawer, I flip the eggs and bacon on two plates, pushing one toward him. I hand him a fork. “I personally think they’re quite good.”
“Of course, you would,” Damon scoffs. “You wouldn’t know a Dali from a deli.”
I snort. “I do enjoy a good Reuben now and again.”
Damon rolls his eyes, poking the over-easy egg yolk with the tip of his fork. “So, how was meeting Emery’s parents?” He scowls into his plate. “Were you everything they hoped for and more?”
“I don’t think they liked me,” I admit with a shrug. “I heard her mother tell her father that she thinks I’m pompous.”
Damon grins. “What a perceptive woman.”
I glare at him but keep Emery’s parents’ opinions of Damon to myself. “She missed you last night, you know? She wished you were there.”
Damon swallows. “It would’ve been uncomfortable if I stayed. It’s better this way. You and her. It makes more sense.”
“Don’t do this again,” I say, tone unwavering, gut stirring with familiar anxiety. “Emery loves you, Damon. She needs you just as much as she needs me. Neither of us are better for her than the other.”
“You really believe that, Q? Do you honestly think that I’m good for Emery? I’m not. I’m not a good person. I’m not a good partner. I’m not a good businessman. I'm not a good anything.” He shakes his head, scolding himself. “Did she ever tell you the real reasonwhy she started working at Cavanaugh Industries? Huh?” He pauses, tone dripping with self-deprecaion. “I blackmailed her, Q. She was dancing at Lux when I met her. Funny, huh? I saw her and decided I needed to have her. I made her quit her job. I forced her to stop dancing. I lied to her. Repeatedly. Do you still think I’m a good person? Do you still think I’m worthy of her?”
I swallow. Emery never mentioned any of this. Then again, I never pried. Never asked. It wasn’t my place. But this fills in the gaps. It sheds light on Damon’s current emotional state. He thinks he doesn’t deserve her.
He’s wrong.
"But she stayed." My voice is softer. “Despite everything you just told me, Emery stayed.”
He scoffs bitterly. "For now. Until she realizes how much I complicate her life. The three of us? How does that even work in the long run, Q? We both want to marry her. We both want to put a ring on her finger. There’s only one finger, Quin.”
“Technically, there are ten.”
He glares at me. Worth a shot. “You know what I mean.”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself, Damon. I really do. We’ve all made mistakes. But we can’t live in the past. And we can’t miss out on the present by worrying about the future. She chose you, Damon. Just like she chose me. She knows it’s going to be hard. She knows it won’t be easy. But she’s here. She’s trying. She shows up for us, Damon.” Our eyes lock, and I ask him,tone genuine and solemn, “Do you think you can show up for her?”
The tendons in his neck tighten. “I don’t know…”
I perk a brow, nodding to the disaster that is his living room. “I think you can. I think those boxes are proof that you want to show up. That you want to try.” Damon’s gaze is distant as I add, “Listen, mate, I know these past few years have been difficult. Horrible really. But you’re here, Damon. Right now, you’re here. You survived. You might be a bit bruised, but you survived. So don’t give up now, okay? Emery needs you.” I inwardly cringe but it’s the truth. “Ineed you.” Reaching out, I place my hand on top of Damon’s. “We make a good team, Cavanaugh. We always have. We just… We let egos get in the way before. But this time we know better. We won’t make the same mistakes.” With a cough, I pull my hand away and straighten my shoulders. “Now, finish eating and go get dressed. Maybe take a quick shower.”
Damon frowns. “Why?”
With a grin, I say, “Emery and her parents are on their way to the VanGust exhibit. I think it would be a splendid coincidence if they randomly bumped into you.”
He rolls his eyes. “That exhibit is mediocre. It’s only displaying his latest work. All the good pieces are tucked away in a private gallery.”
"Well, perhaps you can suggest a change of venue. From what I can tell, Emery’s mother is quite the art enthusiast.”
Damon purses his lips. "I could… Jean-Pierre does owe me a favor. I suppose it would be a good opportunity to bond with them." He adds in a grumbled mumble. “Seeing as I’m herfriend.”
