If Damon’s in public, he’s in a tailored suit, looking like a million bucks.
“Fuck, Damon, I’ll be beating Owen and Storm off of you with a stick tonight.”
I’m only teasing, but Damon’s eyes go wide.
“What are you talking about?” he snaps.
So, we’re back to this attitude, are we?
“I just meant you look good, D. Damn, take a compliment.”
He blows out an exhale.
“Sorry. Thanks. How are you feeling?”
I shrug. “I’ll probably stick with club soda tonight, but otherwise, I feel good.”
“If you start feeling bad, just let me know, and I’ll get us out of there, okay?” he asks, totally serious.
I appreciate how well he takes care of me, but his comment gives me pause. I’ve relied on him so much over the years that I’ve somehow convinced him I can’t even excuse myself from a social setting if needed without his help.
“Thanks, but I should be fine.”
He grabs his cell phone off the counter, and suddenly, I realize we’ve hardly taken any pictures this entire trip.
As he slips his phone into his pocket, I pull mine out and put my arm around his waist, pulling him into me.
He turns his head toward me slowly.
“Say cheese,” I say, grinning widely for the camera I’m now holding out in front of us.
I click the shutter button four or five times in rapid succession, hoping I caught at least one where both of our eyes are open.
“I thought you were in a big hurry,” Damon gripes.
“There’s always time for a picture, D.”
Cocking the shy smile he reserves just for me, he says, “You’re right. I promise to do a better job of remembering to take them. Now, come on, we really do need to head out.”
The walk to the bar is relaxing. The cold air is a little damp from the recent snowfall, but it helps clear my head.
I meant it when I told Damon I forgave him for not telling me about Taylor and my dad, because I do. I truly believe Damon would use his dying breath to protect me, and having to tell me the truth about that whole situation had to have sucked. Although I still haven’t really processed that part, and if I think about it too long, it makes me mad as hell at my dad, and I don’t want to spend the rest of our vacation being mad.
I’ll deal with it later.
It isn’t like he’s spoken to me much since that night anyway. He mostly texts instead of calling, and when hedoescall, it’s the same superficial crap, but nothing truly meaningful.
Huh, it’s ironic that he lied so he didn’t ruin our relationship, but our relationship feels ruined anyway…and it wasn’t even me who pulled back.
“Do you think my dad blames me for losing Taylor?” I blurt as we approach the restaurant.
Damon stops abruptly.
“Where did that come from?” he asks.
“Dunno. My mind was wandering, and I realized that my dad and I haven’t spoken much since that night, and when we do talk, it’s like he’s on eggshells and doesn’t know how to act. I was just thinking maybe that’s why he never calls. He had to choose between me and Taylor, and maybe he thinks he made the wrong choice.”
Oh fuck. I made Damon make the same choice.
