She rolls her eyes as we hang our coats up in the hall closet. “I am, but I’m still training my replacement. Who, might I add, is somewhat of an idiot.”
I cock my head. “You think most people are idiots.”
“Because they are.” She nods upstairs. “Go. I’ll be up later.”
With a soft kiss, I head upstairs, following the sounds of muttered grunts and sighs. As I reach the landing and turn the corner, I’m met with the scent of paint, the guest room in utter disarray. Plastic wrap covers the floor, a ladder tossed off to the side, and there's Damon, clad in a paint-splattered long-sleeve shirt and sweatpants. He’s painting. Priming the walls.
“You missed a spot.” I lean casually on the door frame and rein in a grin as Damon jerks around, a smudge of paint on his cheek. “I never thought I'd see the day that Damon Cavanaugh gets his hands dirty.”
A ghost of a smile cracks across Damon's face. "You're here." He nods to a brush. "Care to lend a hand?"
I eye him warily. Our relationship has been somewhat strained since LA. Whereas Damon jumped head first into preparations, I retreated. A part of me thought he resented me. That he blamed me for what happened to Emery. But he hasn’t brought it up. Neither has she. Toni’s plea for insanity worked. It helped there was no record of her existing. She’s in a facility in upstate New York now. She’ll stay there forlife. She’s gone, and the world keeps on spinning. Despite whether we’re ready or not.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I could use a break.” Damon stretches out his back. “Apparently, my body is allergic to physical labor."
"Could be.” Rolling up the sleeves of my button-down shirt, I pick up a paintbrush and dip it into the primer. I glance over at Damon with a cheeky grin. “Or you're just getting old.”
He scoffs, rotating his shoulder. “I may not be in my 20s anymore, but I’ve still got the stamina of a stallion.”
“Yeah?” I snort. “And how’s the stallion doing cooped up in the stables? Itching to run free again?”
Damon casts me a half-hearted scowl. “As if you’re not.”
Emery’s unable to…be intimate for two more weeks. While her gunshot wound is healing nicely, and her stitches have been taken out, the doctors all agree that it’s safer to wait. Especially given…our preferences in the bedroom—Damon’s been warned that he’ll have to tone it down for several months. I’m surprised he hasn’t spontaneously combusted from all the pent-up sexual energy. But I can see where he’s been putting his energy.
"Has she picked a color?" I ask, painting inside the crevices.
Damon leans against the wall, watching me intently, almost as if he’s afraid I'll disappear again. "Not yet. I suggested a mint green but she said it reminded her oftoothpaste, so I’m guessing that’s not going to be an option.”
I chuckle lightly, my gaze drifting to the children's books scattered on the floor nearby. "Homework?"
Damon glowers at me. "Research.”
I smirk. “Are we finally deciding to learn our ABCs?”
Damon rolls his eyes, ignoring my attempt at humor. My attempt to get back to where we were. In the before. “I think I...” He clears his throat, looking away sheepishly. “I think I want to paint a mural." His gaze flicks up to the empty far wall. "Right there. Maybe animals or birds or something."
“Emery would love that.”
“Listen…” Damon rubs his hands together, his expression uneasy. “I know the two of us haven’t really been on the same page this past month, but I-I just wanted to say thank you.” I frown. “All that material you found for Emery, about her…condition. I… Thank you. I know you have your reservations about this pregnancy, and I know it’s going to be tough, duringandafter, but I…” He expels a long breath. “I think we’ll get through it.”
I scan his face, easily picking up his shielded sadness.During and after.He’s not talking about Emery’s condition, he’s talking about us, our relationship, our dynamics. I haven't even thought about it. I’ve been so hyper-focused on research, on solutions, that I didn’t stop and think about what this means. For the three of us. Our arrangement still stands. We haven’tchanged it. We haven’t amended the rules. To the public, Emery and I are in a relationship. When she starts showing, when the papers pick up this news, it’ll be my name that appears next to the wordfather.
“Damon…” I stop painting and drop my hand, facing him. “Are you… Are you still okay with our…arrangement? With me being…”
He swallows. “As long as they’re both healthy, I don’t care.”
I frown as my phone rings. “Damon, you need to tell me if?—”
“Answer your phone, Q.” Damon gives me his most manufactured smile. “I’m fine.”
With a resigned sigh, I answer the call. “Hello?”
“Hi, this is Kelsey from Monument Designs. I’m calling to inform you that your headstone is ready for installation.”
My blood runs cold. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” And I hang up.
