Healing Love: A Billionaire Romance (Forever Us Book 2)

by Bianca Borell

  BRIA

  We drive to my parents’ mansion while silence holds me captive. I chew on my lip until the skin tears. I open the window, dragging in a lungful of air, and my pulse skyrockets with every mile the closer we get.

  As the bulky metal gates slide open, I fidget in my seat while he drives down the lane. Arriving at the house, Damien parks and turns off the engine. He clasps my hands together to get me to look at him.

  “Whatever is going on in that mind of yours, stop it. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “I know it is, still . . .”

  “They deserve to hear your side.”

  “Isn’t it too late, though? All this wasted time, bottled frustration, and withdrawn love. It’s a whole new level of sadness.”

  “Shh, baby.” His fingers caress my cheeks, and his thumb grazes my lips. “Tell them the story of a young, scared girl who had to fight to stay alive and overcame it all.”

  “Drop the bomb, you mean.”

  He chuckles, and he draws a smile from me.

  “Semantics, baby. Now, are you with me? Because we’ll go in there, whatever might come, we’ll face together.” His strength reinforces me. I say the only words I truly feel that don’t scare me, “Yes, Damien. Always.”

  I climb out of the car and halt. Every time I glance at the imposing trees on each side of the stoned path, it reminds me to be humble. Magnificent, tall, and sure of their steadiness. So many nights I spent glancing at them from my balcony when the lanterns cast their light on them as they greeted and reached for the stars.

  The marble stairs and porch click under my heels, and my fingers graze one of the four columns. How often did I lean on them, waiting for Damien to pick me up? I glance up to where the balcony spreads itself around the house. The right side stretches to my old room, the left side was Filip’s room. A pang of nostalgia overcomes me.

  We step inside, sure everyone would be on the other side, which is my favorite part of the house as it overlooks Lake Zürich. How many days have I spent on the dock daydreaming, sunbathing, or admiring the lake or the beautiful rose garden where Mom and Soph spent hours tending to them.

  I struggle to keep my tears at bay. Damien’s warm hand squeezes mine as we enter the winter kitchen. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer an unobstructed view of the backyard. A white tablecloth covered table sits in the middle decorated with pink roses and pale pink napkins—the color my mother favors this time of year. Our parents enjoy a glass of wine, the intimacy over their long friendship infusing calmness all around.

  Damien turns me to face him and shakes me out of my daze, worry etched in his eyes. I’m merely enjoying taking a trip down memory lane, but we both know being here and my locked confession demand a lot of me. I breathe in and prepare myself for what’s coming. I let acceptance fill me while raising on my toes and press my lips to him.

  “Don’t worry.”

  His grip on me tightens. “Whenever you say I shouldn’t worry, you set off all my alarms.”

  I lean my head on his chest and twirl his upper shirt button. “Just hold me a minute.”

  He lifts my chin with his thumb, his eyes flashing with infinite understanding and love, my heart leaps. “Baby, you don’t have to ask this from me.”

  Our noses touch and rub, his words ease me, and I smile back at him. I catch my reflection in the big mirror hanging on the wall, my eyes ablaze with my love for him. His eyes follow mine, and he kisses my temple. A perfect picture capturing the sheer intensity of our love.

  “Wow . . .” He burrows his face in my hair.

  “Us, Bria.”

  His lips graze mine, and he cups my face, kissing me.

  “Ready, baby?”

  “Yes, I’m ready.” I gather myself and grab his hand in mine. “Let’s give our parents the shock of their lives.”

  He chuckles, and his eyes light up my world.

  Shattering glass startles me. I jump on Damien as he shelters me. When my pulse normalizes, I tilt my head to him as his eyes shine with love, and a goofy grin transforms his face. I bang my head into his chest.

  He lowers his head, his voice dripping with innuendo. “I love being your climbing tree.”

  I feign indignation and say, “Damien.”

  “Hush, you still love me like crazy and my—”

  My hand shoots to cover his mouth as he adds, “dirty mouth.” I finally glance toward where the noise came from and freeze. Our mothers stand in the doorway, immobile, their mouths agape, color draining from their faces. Two perfect statues eye us in shock and disbelief. I open and close my mouth. It’s a hundred times worse. I can’t seem to find the accurate words to describe the look in their eyes—petrified seems a good one as well as appalled. I could go on, but what’s the point? They gasp and lean back on the wall for support.

  My father asks if they are all right. When no answer comes from them, Damien interjects, “Everything is fine, George.”

  “I’m glad you made it, son,” chimes Andrew.

  To witness their reaction astounds me. When Damien and I first got together, we were mere teenagers, then the prospect overjoyed them. The astonished looks on their faces hurts, their lack of understanding. Damien must feel my inner turmoil, he wraps his arms around me and whispers, “Baby, don’t take it personally. Give them time. No one ever expected this from us.”

  I close my eyes, the truth of his words crashing over me. I inhale, shove my disarrayed thoughts away, and call on my common sense.

  “Hi, Mom. Hi, Rebecca.” I raise my hand and say, “We’re here.”

  They stare from each other to us, and a shiver rocks them.

  “Bria, Damien, this is a surprise. Did we miss something?” stammers Rebecca who squints at us. So, no time wasting with small talk. It must’ve shocked her. Way to go, Bria, I say to myself dejected.

  Damien raises our joined hands and says, “You caught us in an obvious situation.”

  “What does that mean?” my mom asks, her voice screeching, and my shoulders sag.

  “Mom, what does it look like? Because we’re not trying to hide it.”

  Rebecca blinks, her nose scrunches up, and Mom’s hand flies to her mouth, her head shaking. Both painting a realistic picture of what discontent looks like.

  “What’s taking so long?” asks Andrew, his impatience ringing in the air.

  Damien grabs my hand, we approach them, and they jolt. He runs a hand down his face, but his eyes shine with understanding. His voice softens.

  “We’ll go greet our fathers. Please, take a moment to put yourselves back together. We’ll explain everything. All right?”

  They nod and slump on the kitchen corner as we amble outside. We round the island, and our fathers’ stances change from smiling at us to complete bewilderment. They follow our joined hands to staring at each other. It goes on like this for long, disconcerting seconds.

  My father waves for us to approach. “Hello, you two. Don’t stand there. Come, take a seat.”

  I rush to him, surprise transforming his face. I kiss him on his cheeks and wrap my arms around him. He gasps, and his arms lock around me. I’ll stay as long as he needs me to.

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  His green eyes glisten, and he mouths, battling with his emotions, “It’s good to hold my baby girl again.”

  I tuck a strand of my hair over my ear and amble to Andrew as he extends his arms, pulling me in a bear embrace and whispers, “Welcome back, sweetie.”

  His words ring of double meaning. I narrow my eyes at him. He can’t possibly know what has been wrong with me, can he? But I can’t shake this strange feeling—I guess secrecy runs deep in our families. As I slip into my seat, Damien shakes hands with both of our fathers, oozing confidence and exuding a good mood. He has changed too, the dark shadows around his eyes have vanished, and his sullen appearance has turned to a radiant one. He reminds me once again of the boy I’ve loved my whole life who enchanted everyone with his vibrant presence, especially me.
I smile feeling carefree.

  “George, I don’t know about you, but I think we have a reason to celebrate.” He pats my father on his shoulder, relief surging through them both. “Seven long years and our children have finally found their way back.”

  Damien takes the seat next to me, raises my hand to his mouth, and whispers, “It’s going better than expected.”

  They squint at us, failing at being subtle, both Damien and I muffle our amusement. So much for privacy. I shake my head in disbelief at this unusual situation. My father strides away and comes back holding a bottle of Krug Vintage champagne, he pops it open and fills our glasses.

  “We raise our glasses, and he asks, “To what exactly shall we toast?”

  “To second chances,” says Damien, his eyes fixated on me.

  “To second chances, then,” approves Andrew, as we clink our glasses together.

  Sophia and Alex burst in, and she pants, “I’m so sorry, we’re late because of me.”

  Alex strokes her on the back, his voice lowering to take her side. “We lost track of time. It’s on me, it won’t happen again.”

  “Did we miss anything?” Sophia asks, her eyes scanning us.

  Damien’s voice rings with annoyance, and he deadpans, “No.” They engage in a visual battle, and I intervene.

  “You made it. That’s what’s important.”

  I press my hand down on his knee, and his jaw eases. He still has a problem with accepting their relationship. I, on the other hand, am more than thrilled. “We wouldn’t have missed this. We’re here for you as promised.”

  I look at my sweet Alex, and I mouth a “thank you” to him.

  Realization dawns on our fathers’ faces as they move from being baffled to acceptance while looking at us. We burst into laughter, and the tension slips away.

  “I saw our mothers, they look ill. They blend in with the white of the walls.”

  A second round of laughter ensues, and Andrew urges, “Join the party, you two. I’m sure it will be quite an entertaining day.”

  “Such a welcoming change,” my father adds, and we all agree.

  Sophia and Alex grab the seats in front of us when Filip arrives, staring over his shoulders.

  “What’s wrong with them? Should I worry?”

  Another round of laughter rocks the table, and Filip backtracks eyeing us, his eyebrows knit together.

  “Hello, to you, too, son. I’m so happy you could come. Take a seat. Let’s enjoy this day.”

  “Is it me, or is the table arrangement oddly different this time around?” He detects Damien next to me, gestures to us with shock etched in his face. “Since when do you stand next to each other again? You’ve been avoiding the other like a contagious disease.”

  His eyes question us. Hundreds of different possibilities, but not the clearest one passes his eyes, but he doesn’t even flinch when he smiles at Sophia and greets Alex. I’m sure he knew about them the moment they happened.

  When everyone adjusts to the new situation, our mothers join us, still fazed. Their heads reel from looking back and forth between the four of us.

  I tilt my head to Damien, his eyes flickering with mischief, as he caresses my knee. His finger slides up my bare leg, distracting me in the best way possible as I bite down on my inner cheek, my hair falling over my face. I had not one dirty thing in mind when I picked a peachy pleated skirt. I should’ve known better, but I love how he’s unable to keep his hands to himself.

  We form groups. On one side is Damien and me, the most interesting I assume from the constant gaping we’re getting, then Sophia and Alex who are blissfully enjoying the nearness of the other. Then there are our mothers who form a blockade. Our fathers who relax in their seats, enjoying the change, and my brother who scowls, his eyes follow every slight movement or word spoken.

  I exhale. It’s time. I hope by the end of the day, we’ll concentrate on something entirely different from my complete break and meltdown. Damien senses my unease, for a little time, it feels as if we’re the only two persons out here as I push everything else away, except him. I glance over to the lake, let its fluid and silent movement calm me, the delicate smell of roses to permeate my senses, and Damien’s touch to soothe me.

  He inches toward my face and whispers, “Love, breathe in, breathe out, let your heart speak for you.” He clasps my hand in his. “It’s family, there’s no need for you to make yourself ill with worries.”

  I nod in response and brush my lips against the corners of his addictive mouth, his warmth and familiar manly scent enveloping me.

  The chair screeches under my brother, his nostrils flaring. “What was that?”

  Damien snaps his head and counters, “It was me having a moment with your sister.”

  Filip’s eyes bulge out. “Is this some kind of lovers’ reunion? Are you back together?” he asks, and his eyes roam to each of us.

  “Filip, stop.” His attention snaps to Sophia, and he calms down as she adds, “Listen to what Bria has to say.”

  Her eyes shine with encouragement, but Sophia’s words, although meant to calm things, only strain everyone else’s nerves.

  “What does Sophia mean, honey?” asks my mom, concern marring her forehead.

  “Hear me out, please, without interrupting.” I lean my palms on the table and I inhale, then glance to Damien tilting his head at me, grounding me, and my confession unleashes.

  “The morning of my eighteenth birthday, I woke up in a hotel bed with a splitting headache. The man I loved like crazy didn’t even look at me as he was paying attention to something beside me. My world shattered when I turned my head and saw a stranger naked in my bed.” Collective gasps follow, but my gaze stays fixated on a spot lining the horizon. “I didn’t cheat on Damien. I’d never have been capable, but it looked like it due to all the incriminating evidence.” My lower lip wobbles, and Damien squeezes my hand in his. “In the following days, my heart slowly broke. I broke.”

  “Sweetie.” My mom springs from the chair, her face disfigured with pain, but I plead with my eyes for her to remain where she is. I need to keep talking and raise my hand, so she lets me continue.

  “Over the course of a few weeks, I lost Damien, my health, my credibility, and I disappointed all of you. The worst part was when I was hospitalized in London.”

  I pause as to what I would confess next was a thousand times worse, and I peer through my wet lashes at everyone. Alex’s position stiffens at my words, Sophia fights her tears, my father pales, my mother sobs, and my brother closes his eyes, his fingers twitching. Rebecca and Andrew purse their lips, sorrow etching in their faces, and Damien’s and my hands glue together. He knows what comes is the hardest to speak about.

  “I was pregnant. I miscarried,” my voice spills, and tears roll down my face. “Guilt and lack of understanding as to what had happened that night ate me alive. I drowned in my remorse. I became numb and emotionally detached. For the next few years, I felt almost nothing.” My vision blurs with the tears streaming down my cheeks, and through a sob rocking me, I add, “I left because I thought I had caused enough pain. I only came back to leave behind something better than what I broke. I was dying every day, and I was fine with it. I wasn’t planning a holiday, I was planning a farewell departure—my own.”

  My head and shoulders drop at the shock and hurt on their faces and a round of collective gasps ensues. My body shivers from within, my voice quivering as I say, “I was in a dark place for a long time. But things didn’t go as expected. Neither Quinn nor Alex gave up on me. When I was long past caring, they kept fighting for me. It’s not that I chose them over you, but they gave me stability and accepted me as I was. The guilt and lack of being able to remember what happened never gave me a chance to escape my voluntary prison. On my twenty-fifth birthday, I was saying my final goodbye. The company was in good hands, you all moved on. I thought Damien was finally over us and found his true love.”

  Saying the last part aloud slices me. But I
manage to continue, “But then I watched a video.” Hysterical laughter rocks me. “I witnessed how seven long years of my life were a sham, my illness was a sad joke, and my loss was someone else’s victory. I felt guilt over something I was never guilty of and ashamed of something I couldn’t control. I was set up and drugged so Damien would find me in a compromising situation. He saw the video at the same time. We had a long talk that night. I tried to explain I couldn’t come back because I didn’t want you to see me slowly dying. The doctors gave me about a year to live as my heart was failing. I have to add when it comes to my heart, there has always been a mix of wonder and incredulity from my doctors. I was done being something they could test and hope they could fix. So, I made my decision, my guilt, although removed, I still had a damaged heart and broken mind.”

  I pause to glance around the table before I say, “I wasn’t on holiday, I was fighting for my life in a hospital bed in Tokyo, accepting it as my only and last chance to live.”

  With every word I confess, the color drains from their faces. At this point, they resemble cold, lifeless bodies staring at me, horror transforming their expressions.

  “One can say I’m a walking miracle.” I half-smile. “Afterward, I spent another two months in therapy. With the necessary help, I got myself under control.”

  I finish, and slump in the chair and close my eyes. My energy vanishes. I’m emotionally drained. Silence descends over the table, and cries linger around me, but with my eyes shut, I can’t recognize from whom they come.

  “I’m sorry for everything I put you through, for what you had to hear today. It wasn’t an easy decision to tell you the truth. I hope you, too, believe it was the right thing to do. This is how things were for me.” I finish my tone laced with an apology and offering them some kind of justification.

  My father chokes on his words as he shakes his head. “I never realized things were that bad, Bria.”

  “We strongly believed your heart was stable. We thought it’s how you coped with everything,” says Rebecca as she caresses my mom’s arm.

  Damien jumps to his feet, his chair drops, and shouts, “You knew it? All of it?” He runs his hands through his hair, pain etches on his face. He yells, “And you didn’t think you should tell me?”