He groaned, “I need your help with something.”
“What?”
“It’s in the other room.”
“I think it’s in your pants.”
“For now it is, yes.”
“You’re bad.”
“Come on. No one will miss us for five minutes.”
Before I could answer, Damien locked his fingers in with mine. When it seemed like no one was paying attention, he started to lead me into the bedroom. He locked the door behind us before backing me against the wall.
I closed my eyes as he showered my neck with kisses. Tugging on my shirt, he began to undo the buttons before taking it off.
“These pants have had me looking down all night.” He knelt to the floor. “They look so fucking good on you, but they’re snug as hell. Thank God your shirt was covering this.” He pointed to my crotch, which displayed a massive camel toe. Damien spread my legs and began to kiss me there.
“What are you doing?” I muttered.
“It’s Christmas. I’m kissing you under the camel toe.”
Shaking with laughter, I said, “I thought it was the mistletoe.”
“Not anymore.”
Pulling down my pants, Damien said, “Everyone’s talking and laughing out there, and all I could think about is burying my face in your pussy.”
When my pants were off, he did just that as I spread my legs apart. Still leaning my back against the wall, I dug my fingers into the back of his head as he continued to eat me out.
He came up for air. “Falalalala to me. You taste better than any Christmas treat.”
I laughed. “We have to get back out there.” Panting, I said, “I need to come.”
“Don’t come yet,” he growled.
Standing up, he flipped me around so that I was facing the wall.
“Come now,” he said as he entered me. It took me all of ten seconds to spasm around his cock at the exact moment he released inside of me.
“That was the very definition of a quickie,” I breathed out.
He was holding my hair back as he spoke against my neck, “That’s what happens when you work me up all night.”
“Go ahead of me. I need to use the bathroom.”
He pulled his pants up and went back out to the party.
After I emerged, Damien was leaning against a table in the corner casually sipping a beer as if our fucking in the next room hadn’t ever happened. Meanwhile, I felt like the word SEX was written all over my face in flashing Christmas lights.
When he noticed me from across the room, I think he could tell I was embarrassed. As I stood behind the counter preparing the dessert tray, he just continued to sip his beer with a smirk on his face as he looked at me. I randomly burst out into a laughing fit while Damien started to crack up from across the room.
No one else knew what the heck was going on. They were talking away amongst themselves. The dogs were playing with some of the ornaments that had fallen off of the tree. Damien and I, in the meantime, were in our own little world.
When we stopped laughing, he just continued to gaze at me from afar with a look that was a mixture of lust…and love. This truly was the best Christmas of my life.
I knew that Damien and I likely had some tough times ahead, but tonight—this moment in time where the two of us were oblivious to everything but each other—was perfect.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LE NOMBRIL
Damien and I’d stayed up until the middle of the night cleaning up the mess from the party. It was worth it to be able to sleep in on Christmas morning.
I woke up to the amazing feeling of Damien’s hard dick sandwiched inside the crack of my ass. It was our own special version of spooning.
Damien spoke against my back. “Merry Christmas.”
I turned around. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
Massaging my fingers through his hair, I admired his beautiful jawline but noticed the look of worry on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was just thinking about stuff while you were sleeping. I was up a lot last night.”
“Like what?”
“I was thinking about the future.”
“What about it?”
“Promise you won’t get mad if I bring this up again?”
My heart sank a little. “I promise.”
“I was thinking about children again, and how much I don’t want to hold you back from having a child of your own. I know we’ve had this discussion, but I guess I still can’t wrap my head around your decision. Whenever I think about it, it makes me ill.”
Closing my eyes, I tried as best as I could to gather my thoughts on the matter so that I could explain myself. “Our need to procreate is a selfish one anyway, right? Why do we need to have children as long as there are children in the world who need good homes?”
“Don’t fucking pretend you wouldn’t want one of our own someday.”
“I do want one. I do want to experience that with you, but I understand the scenario we face. If you can’t live with the risk, I understand that completely. You mean more to me than anything. I want you more than anything, and I’m not lying when I say that.”
“I just want it to go on record that I’d understand…if you couldn’t accept it.”
“You’d understand if I left you to become impregnated by some man I didn’t love?”
He looked like he was seriously pondering my question. “Fuck that. No, I wouldn’t understand. I’d end up killing someone. Or kidnapping your pregnant ass and raising the baby with you.” He suddenly pulled me close. “I’m such a lost cause.”
“Well, you’re lucky I’m not going anywhere, then.”
“When I’m old and crusty and no longer hot, you’re gonna wish you had some children.”
“And I will. We will. Even if they’re not biologically ours.”
He was looking so deeply into my eyes. It was as if he was looking beyond them. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
“I think I do.”
“No. I don’t think you do. There’s something I need to say, and I need to make sure you really understand it.”
“Okay…”
“I know it’s always at the back of your mind, because I know you so well. You wonder whether you’re gonna wake up one day and find that my feelings have changed—like his did. You won’t allow yourself to believe that this could be forever, because you want to protect yourself in the event that history repeats itself. I need you to believe that as long as I’m walking this Earth, I’m going to love you. I’m not gonna hurt you like he did. I can promise you that. You’re it for me. Maybe you’ve heard that before, but this time, the person saying it means it. I need you to understand that.”
So overcome with emotion, I could barely mutter, “I do.”
“Good.” He abruptly got up.
“Where are you going?”
“To make you coffee and breakfast.”
Feeling undeserving, I watched every movement of his gloriously naked body as he slipped on some sweatpants and sauntered toward the kitchen.
Stretching my arms, I yawned and lifted myself off the bed in search of one of his t-shirts.
I could hear Damien from the kitchen. “Shit. There’s no coffee left in the can. I meant to buy some when I was out last night.”
“How the heck could we be out of coffee? You buy that gigantic one.”
“Have you seen how much coffee we drink?”
“Crap.”
“Alright.” He sighed. “I’m gonna get some from the bodega. I saw a sign the other day saying they’d be open today.”
Looping my arms under his, I said, “It’s Christmas Day. Don’t leave. We’ll make due.”
He turned around and kissed me on the forehead. “You think you’re really gonna be able to survive with no coffee?”
“I’ll try.”
“Well, I’m a beast without it. Not an option for me.”
“You’re a beast
either way, but I agree. You need your coffee more than me.”
“I knew I was forgetting something at the market yesterday.”
“You remembered the sticky balls but forgot the most important thing. Maybe if you came up with a coffee innuendo, you would’ve remembered.”
“Chock Full o’ Nuts?” He winked.
“Damn, you’re fast.”
“You like that brand, right?”
“Yes. Don’t be long!”
“I won’t.”
After the front door shut, I returned to the bed, slapped my thighs and waved to the dogs, prompting them to hop in with me. “Psst. Guys. Come on. Your daddy is gonna be so mad at me, but I want to snuggle with you on Christmas.” It was our little secret that we would hang out in the bed when Damien wasn’t home. I was pretty sure Damien was ignoring the evidence since they always left plenty of hair behind.
Dudley and Drewfus wasted no time jumping up on the bed and licking my face. They smelled like the biscuits we’d given them to open as presents last night, and now, I, too, smelled like them.
After forty-five minutes passed, it dawned on me that Damien was taking an awfully long time to get coffee. The bodega was only a few blocks away, and he’d driven his truck on top of that. The more time that passed, the more concerned I became.
Finally, the phone rang.
“Damien?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“Where are you?”
“I was just about to call you. I’m at the hospital. Memorial.”
“What?”
“It’s okay. I took myself.”
“What happened? You just went to get coffee. I don’t get it.”
“I was at the cash register. They were ringing me up. I started feeling this chest pain I’d never experienced before. It scared the shit out of me. I didn’t want to risk coming home, so I went straight to the emergency room.”
“What’s happening now?”
“They’re admitting me.”
“I’m coming there.”
“Please don’t get into an accident. Take your time. I’m gonna be fine, okay?”
“Okay.”
He could tell I was starting to tear up. “Chelsea…please. Don’t cry, alright? Be strong for me. I’ll be okay. I’m just gonna get checked out, and then we’ll be back home having our coffee by the tree in no time.”
“Alright. I love you.”
The ride to the hospital seemed to take forever. When I got to his room, Damien was sitting up in bed.
Rushing to him, I started to sob.
Damien took me in his arms. “Calm down, baby. I’m fine.” He wiped my eyes.
“You were saying all those things to me. And then…I was afraid that…”
“That I’d be dead when you got here? Because I’d just told you I would love you until the day I died?”
I sniffled. “Yes.”
“That would be horrible timing. You’ve been reading too many shitty romance novels.” He forced a smile.
I returned it. “I’m just glad you’re okay. What can I do while we wait?”
He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. “Just stay with me. That’s all I need.”
“Like I could be anywhere else right now.”
***
We ended up spending most of Christmas day into the evening at the hospital. They’d run a series of tests then let Damien go with the understanding that he would see his doctor as soon as possible after the holiday.
The following Tuesday, we were able to get in to see Damien’s cardiologist at Stanford.
Dr. Tuscano was mild-mannered and did his best to put me at ease. After the examination winded down, he smiled over at me. “I’ve been seeing Damien for some time now. I have to say, he’s never seemed this happy.”
“Thank you.”
“Doc, I brought Chelsea with me so that you could personally answer any questions she has. I still haven’t made any decision about surgery, but I want her to be informed.”
“It’s my pleasure to do that.” The doctor took a seat on a small stool. “What can I answer for you specifically?”
Clearing my throat, I said, “I guess, I just want to learn more about the risks versus the benefits.”
“Okay, well, as you probably already know, the procedure we would be performing is called a septal myectomy. We would be removing a small amount of the thickened septal wall surrounding his heart to eliminate the obstruction. This will make it easier for the heart to pump blood. We’ve always felt that he’s a good candidate for this procedure, because Damien is fairly young and because of his significant septal thickness.”
When I drew a blank, Damien decided to embarrass me. “Sorry, Doc…you said thickness, and her mind must have gone to another part of my anatomy.”
The doctor chuckled but otherwise decided to ignore the comment. “Anyway, the surgery will likely provide him with relief from his symptoms, but more than that, it can lengthen his life expectancy.”
“Is it safe?”
“It is generally very safe, yes. As with any surgical procedure, there are risks, albeit very low.”
“What are those risks?”
“Infection, heart attack, stroke or death. But we do everything in our power to reduce the chances of anything like that ever happening.”
“I’ve read a lot of conflicting things about whether this operation actually impacts life expectancy.”
“You’re right. There have been differing schools of thought on that. But the newest research has shown that for individuals like Damien who are symptomatic, myectomy may actually normalize their life expectancy. Ten-year survival would be ninety-five percent, which is on par with the general population.”
“What’s the ten-year survival for those who don’t have the operation?”
“About seventy-three percent.”
“Wow.”
“There are no guarantees, Chelsea. Even with the surgery, we wouldn’t be able to say with absolute certainty that sudden cardiac arrest won’t happen. But given his family history, with his father dying so young, we recommend being as proactive as possible. He’ll, of course, continue taking his medications either way.”
Dr. Tuscano continued answering my questions. My feelings went up and down on the matter. Just when I would conclude that the operation was the way to go, I’d look over at Damien and shudder at the thought of him having open-heart surgery. Even though the doctor had said dying during the procedure was rare, it has happened. I’d read a couple of stories online that terrified me. I would never be able to forgive myself if I encouraged him to do it and God forbid, he died on the operating table.
At the same time, what if we put it off out of fear and something happened to him that could have been prevented? It was impossible to feel comfortable with either scenario. The only thing I was sure of was that it needed to be his decision and that I would support him no matter what.
***
The Wednesday after Christmas, Damien left me a huge surprise on the kitchen counter.
Printed out were two e-tickets for direct flights from San Francisco to JFK.
“Damien? What are these?”
“It’s my apology for fucking up our first Christmas.”
“We’re going to New York?”
“Yes…for New Year’s Eve. You can see your sister. I know you said how much you missed her, since she couldn’t be here over Christmas.”
My eyeballs moved back and forth as I examined the details. “Okay…these are first class! During the holidays? These tickets cost a fortune.”
“We can afford it.”
“Are you serious?”
“We never go away, and we fucking deserve it. We need a change of scenery to try to forget about all of this depressing shit for a few days.”
Reaching on my tippy toes to embrace him, I cried, “I could hug you!”
“I hope I get a little more than that.”
“Oh, you’ll get a lot more than that.”
“I can handle that.”
He put me down. “Let’s have some fun.”
***
New York City was a welcome change of pace.
We’d just gone to see Jade’s evening performance and were out to eat at a restaurant not far from the theater district. I’d gone to the bathroom when I heard two of Jade’s friends enter. One of them had apparently just arrived.
“Oh, my God, who is that guy out there sitting next to Jade?”
“That’s her sister’s boyfriend. His name is Damien.”
“Holy hell.”
“I know. He’s fucking hot. He’s visiting from California.”
“They grow them well in California, then.”
“Seriously. Makes me want to visit the West Coast. I’m sick of the guys here.”
When I emerged from the stall, the one I’d met previously bit her tongue.
“Oh, hey, Chelsea.” She turned to her friend to introduce me. “This is Jade’s sister.”
The other girl looked horrified. “You heard us.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry. Your boyfriend is gorgeous. We were just admiring him and didn’t mean any harm.”
“Thank you. I know. None taken.”
Even though I couldn’t blame them, I still felt like strangling someone. As I washed my hands, I thought about the fact that I’d never felt this possessive over my former boyfriends. My feelings for Damien were at an entirely different level. The idea of someone trying to steal him—even just someone coveting him—made me crazy. Thankfully, he only ever seemed to have eyes for me.
When I returned to my table, I noticed he had moved seats and was talking to Jade. She smiled at me when I approached, and I suspected they were talking about me.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, still flustered by the bathroom incident.
Sensing my mood, Damien placed his arm around me and gently scratched his fingertips along my back. When the two women from the bathroom returned to the table, I possessively took his hand and wrapped my fingers in his.
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