by Remy Rose
I think of how I want a lovely, loving relationship. Correction: how I want my lovely, loving relationship to continue.
I haven’t allowed myself to go down that road of imagining any sort of future with Damon. In fact, up until Saturday night, I was planning to put the brakes on once again, even though I dreaded the idea. But after Amanda’s surprise announcement about Portia, and seeing how confident Damon was about his mother accepting our relationship...it’s made me more optimistic than I’ve ever been.
So optimistic, that when the bells on my door jingle just before closing time and in walks Gloria Cavanaugh, the flutter of initial trepidation gives way to hopefulness about the reason she’s here.
She’s looking amazingly cool on this hot, humid day in a sleeveless periwinkle blouse, cream-colored, tailored pants and ivory pumps. I suddenly remember the splotch of whoopie pie filling on me and slip off my apron self-consciously, stepping behind the counter for protection.
The counter that her son fucked me on. This brings me a measure of comfort and victory.
Gloria’s aristocratic nostrils widen slightly, like she’s caught a whiff of something unpleasant. I can’t help but flash back to Betty saying, Oh, Lawrence—it smells so delicious in here! and realize there could not be two more opposite people in the world than Betty and the woman standing before me right now. I marvel at Gloria’s facial structure, her fine bones and contoured makeup. I see a hint of Damon in her face and wish I could unsee it, because I don’t want to associate her with him. I am grudgingly impressed that this woman’s bun is perfect, with not a strand of hair out of place.
Except the one across her ass.
She’s not saying anything, and it’s freaking me out. “Hi, Gloria,” I begin. “How are you?”
“If you have a Closed sign to put on the door, I suggest you do it. I don’t want to be interrupted.”
So apparently, she’s not here for an iced latte. That hopefulness I felt before? Gone.
It strikes me that I should be pissed off she’s telling me what to do, because this is my turf. My life. Yet here I am, walking obediently to the door to do what she says, returning to stand next to the end of the counter. The naughty end.
“I’ll be brief. I’m sure it won’t surprise you to hear that Damon told me about Portia’s...news. It doesn’t change the way I view her, and it certainly doesn’t change the way I view you.” She takes a step closer to me. I don’t move. “You’ve heard me say it before, and I’ll say it again—I don’t consider you a suitable match for my son. I don’t expect you to understand, given your social status, but there must be certain expectations met in order to become involved with a Cavanaugh. My son is clearly blinded by your looks, and whatever else it is you do for him.” Her nostrils enlarge again as her upper lip twitches. “You are both too young to understand that it can’t just be about attraction, or emotion, which is why I’m stepping in to put a stop to this.”
Gloria’s voice is harsh, steely, and vehement.
I feel myself start to shrink.
“I’m leaving the country tomorrow, but when I return in ten days, I expect you will have ended the relationship. And just to make myself perfectly clear about how dead serious I am, Delaney...if you disregard what I’m saying and continue to see my son, I’ll dismiss him from the company and cut off his inheritance.”
Dread seeps into my veins, clogging my senses and rooting me to the floor. If I was ever questioning the chances of Damon’s and my relationship working, Gloria has just provided the answer. I can’t let her ruin Damon’s career and future.
But I’m not going to let her walk out of here having the last word.
“You don’t need to say any more, Gloria,” I tell her. I am shaking—fucking hate myself for it, but I can’t stop, my feelings are so strong. “I care too much about Damon to jeopardize his future. So you’ve won. I’ll be out of his life, but before I go, there are a few things that need to be said, from me to you.” I swallow. I’m dangerously close to tears, and I reach down deep inside myself to grab the pride that’s cowering in the corner. I will not fucking bawl in front of Gloria Cavanaugh. “You asked me the first night I met you to tell you what I like about your son. Now that I know him much better, I can add to that list.”
I take a deep, shuddery breath, because I know that bringing all his attributes to light is going to make it that much harder to leave him. “Damon is one of the most caring people I know. You probably aren’t even aware that he loves animals and recently adopted the sweetest senior shelter dog. It’s been wonderful, seeing the bond between the two of them, and how much Damon loves him. He’s been so kind and patient with me, because I had some—something happen in the past, and he didn’t push but instead helped me work through it. I hadn’t been able to overcome my insecurities before him, and I’ll always be grateful to him for that. Damon is also very thoughtful—that antique sign out front? He got that for me as a surprise when I opened my café. He wants me to be successful as much as I do. He’s happiest when I’m happy.”
Gloria’s perfectly-plucked eyebrows are pulling together. She is completely silent, completely still, while my emotions are battering me like tidal waves tossing a canoe. I’m fighting like crazy to keep from falling apart, because the last thing I said grabs at my heart: He’s happiest when I’m happy. A single traitorous tear slides down my cheek. I wipe it away savagely and continue. “I like how Damon fits in so well with my friends—you’d never know he was wealthy, because he doesn’t flaunt it. He’s tender and sweet and sensitive, and he makes me laugh—so much. He’s clever and witty—no one has ever made me laugh like he has.”
No one has ever made me feel like he has.
“I see all of those things, but you’ve been so fucking controlling and angry, you haven’t. I don’t know why you’re such a bitter woman when you have so much, and when you have such a wonderful son. I am going to lose him, but you don’t have to.”
Gloria’s painted mouth opens slightly. She looks like she’s going to snarl, but she doesn’t make a sound. I can see her sapphire drop earrings vibrating. Her face is a battleground of emotions—outrage, disdain, self-righteousness, and something I can’t identify.
There is a raw, throbbing ache ravaging the inside of me. I need to be done with this. “You may be powerful in your world, Gloria, but I’m not going to let you be powerful in mine any longer. Get out.”
She regards me for a few seconds, like a cat might look after it’s become bored playing with a mouse. Then she raises her chin, turns and walks out the door, the bells on the door jingling merrily.
Now, I can cry. I may have won that last battle, but it’s the hollowest of victories, because I lost the war.
I lost Damon.
Chapter 33 / Damon
Tucker barks when he hears Delaney’s car coming up the driveway. He does his cute little jump-thing where just his front legs come off the ground when he knows it’s her. We’re having lobsters and steamers over here tonight—I didn’t end up seeing her last night because she said she had an upset stomach. I offered to bring her some Tums or ginger ale or something, but she told me she was all set and planned to go to bed early to sleep it off.
Her Sonata sounds louder than usual. I’ll have my mechanic take a look at it tomorrow. Makes me laugh, how attached she is to that car—every time I’ve asked her what kind of vehicle she’d like to have, she always answers she already has the vehicle she wants. I’d still like to get her a new one.
I’d like to get her lots of things.
I open the door, already smiling because I know I’m going to see her.
Only something’s wrong.
Delaney looks pale and tired, with purplish crescents under her eyes. She looks like she’s been crying. Jesus, I don’t like this.
But whatever it is, I’m going to fix it.
“Hey.” I reach out for her hand, gently pulling her toward me.
She doesn’t look up. I take her chin in my hands and t
ip her head back. Reluctantly, her eyes meet mine. What I see in them makes my gut roil with uneasiness.
T-Man ambles over to greet her, pushing his nose against her leg. She rubs his ears, bending down to kiss the top of his head, and for some reason this simple act makes my heart clench.
I close the door behind her. She looks up at me, her voice low and colorless. “I’m not going to stay long.”
“What’s wrong? Sprite, you’re scaring the shit out of me.”
There’s a flash of pain in her face. “I’m sorry.” She looks down at Tucker as she speaks. There is a dull resignation to her tone. “Damon—I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep seeing you.”
It feels like she’s tugged a thread inside me. I feel myself—my world that includes her—start to unravel. “Come in and sit down so we can talk.”
“There’s really nothing to talk about. We have to face the fact that your mother has too much power over you. She doesn’t want me with you. She made that crystal clear when she came to see me yesterday. I’m not going to be responsible for coming between the two of you and costing you your professional and financial future.”
“Wait a minute—my mother came to see you?” What the fuck. Fury starts to crowd out my fear, thinking of Gloria and her bullying tactics. And how perfectly timed this all was, with her flying to Moscow this morning for a week-long trip with our yacht broker. Drop the bomb and head for the hills.
Delaney nods, her lips in a tight line. “She is firmly convinced I am not suitable for you and threatened to cut you off if I kept seeing you.”
“Jesus fucking Christ...I’m the one who can fucking decide who’s suitable for me.”
“I just can’t do this to you, Damon.” Her voice has dropped to a whisper. There is misery etched on her face, and seeing this sends fresh fury pouring through me. She doesn’t deserve this. But I’ve got to convince her to stay with me.
“Delaney, I don’t give a fuck what kind of threats my mother made—you need to let me deal with her.” I take a step toward her, wanting to hold her, but she presses back against the wall and wraps her arms around herself.
“And there’s something else. You can’t just give me the building at the end of the contract. I’m making money now with the café, so I’m going to start sending you payments—like a mortgage.”
A coldness settles into my bones. She trying to cut ties with me—revert back to the business deal this once was. “Jesus, no. That’s ridiculous, and I won’t accept it. We had a deal.”
“It turned out that you didn’t need to pay me all that money,” she says softly. She looks so serious, so sad and achingly beautiful, I have all I can do not to sweep her in my arms and kiss her fears away.
“We had no way of knowing that Portia would turn out to be gay.”
“I’m not talking about that. It’s because...” Her voice breaks, and I feel something inside me break as well. “...because it ended up not being faking, for me.”
I look at her steadily, hold her eyes in my gaze so she can see what’s in it. “For me as well.”
She takes a deep, shaky breath and squares her shoulders. “But the reality is, we need to just stop here. Our contract ends next week anyway, and I hope you’ll agree to just go our separate ways a little early.”
Tucker slumps against her, panting and looking up at her adoringly. I feel a twist in my gut, knowing how attached he is to her. I can’t fucking let her go.
“Delaney. Don’t do this.” My voice is harsh—I don’t mean for it to be, but what I’m feeling cuts so deeply, it makes my words sharp.
Her eyes are brimming. “Damon, this is not what I want. But this is what I have to do. There’s no other way. Please, if you care about me at all, you’ll just let this end.”
The anguish on her face sends stabs of pain to my stunned heart. I’m immobilized by what she’s asking of me—ripped apart inside by what I want and what I know she wants, but needing to solidify a plan about how to fix this once and for all so that she’ll stay with me. Where she belongs.
She bends down and takes Tucker’s face in her hands, putting her forehead on his and whispering something to him. Then it’s like she can’t get out of my house fast enough. She straightens up, blinking hard. “Thank you, Damon. For everything.”
She has her hand on the doorknob, and I’m fighting every fucking urge I have to stop her. I’ll respect her wishes for now, but just until my mother returns from overseas. I know the only way Delaney will soften her stance is when my mother no longer has me under her control.
I’m going to make that happen.
“Delaney...this isn’t the end. I swear to you, it isn’t.”
She allows herself to glance back at me before leaving, and I see a spark of hope in her eyes. And then, she’s gone.
Later, I can’t stand the stillness of the house and take myself outside to the stillness of the sea where at least I can feel I’m part of something. I haul my kayak into the water, dipping the paddle in forcefully like I’m going somewhere.
But all I can do is drift.
Chapter 34 / Delaney
They say that sometimes, when you rescue an animal, it ends up rescuing you. And that’s just what’s happened with Lucy. She seems to sense how down I am and has been constantly at my side, following me from room to room, purring and rubbing her head against me when I’m sitting on the couch trying to focus on the TV, even though nothing holds my attention. I mainly have the TV on for the sound—to drown out the emptiness that seems to echo from every corner of my apartment.
It’s only been a week, and I miss Damon more than I can express. I miss Tucker. I miss the three of us, and just admitting that we were an us causes my chest to ache.
I hate the feeling of not being in contact with him, and how I keep checking my phone for a text that I shouldn’t expect because of what I asked of him. I hate that he is honoring my request, and I hate myself for feeling that way. I’ll sometimes slip into thoughts of maybe there is some way, but then the image of Gloria Cavanaugh, large and looming and haughty, comes barreling into my mind. As much as Damon means to me, I could never come between a mother and son. I could never be the one to cost him his whole future. Even if it means not being part of that future.
But it’s just so damned hard. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Time has moved so slowly over this past week, dragging me along as day blends into night and hours blend into days. The weather has been absolutely gorgeous—sunny, hot and dry—but inside me, it’s bleak and gray. The only splash of color has been Maddie’s upcoming wedding, although if I’m being totally honest, sometimes I want to bawl thinking about it because it makes me realize what I no longer have. It’s the same thing when I read my romance novels. That’s no longer an escape for me, but a reminder of what I lost.
Okay, buck up, buttercup. Enough with the pity party for one.
I’m cleaning the counter and getting ready to go home when the door opens. It’s Maddie, looking adorable in a navy floral maxi dress. There’s just the slightest swell at her midsection to give away her pregnancy.
“Hey, Mads—are you done for the day?”
“Yup. I’m going to meet the seamstress for hopefully the last time.” She smiles, patting her belly. “Have to let my gown out a little more.”
“Aww. I can’t believe the wedding’s only twelve days away.”
“I know, right?” She glances at the tray of the day’s left-over blueberry squares. “Damn, those look good.”
Grinning, I hand her a napkin. “Take one. For the baby.”
She uses the hand sanitizer on the counter and picks up one of the squares, biting into it and closing her eyes in bliss. “Mmm...thank you. I’ve really been craving sweets lately, but I have to be careful not to go too crazy. Last night I had a dream I gave birth to a Swiss roll.”
I burst out laughing, and she smiles, her face soft and eyes bright. “It’s good seeing you laugh.”
“T
hat might have been the first time since...you know.”
Maddie sighs, puts down her blueberry square and gives me a quick, tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I can’t stand seeing you down.”
“I’ll be all right.” I force a smile. “Your wedding will keep me busy and focused. I’m picking up my dress on Thursday.”
“I’ll try to come with you if I can, but if not, send me a Snap when you try it on.”
“I will.”
Maddie frowns, studying my face. “You kind of hate me right now, don’t you? Because of the wedding and pregnancy and everything.”
I snort indignantly. “Of course not!”
“I don’t blame you a bit if you do. I’d probably hate you a little, too, if the situation was reversed.”
“Jesus, Maddie! I don’t hate you. I’m not that much of a bitch.”