by Wendi Felter
“How?” He didn’t mean to sound so lethargic, but he didn’t really have any bright ideas…Her face lit up. “I thought of a plan, but you’d have to step out of character a little bit.”
Damon saw the sparkle in her eyes and sat forward, his hands intertwining on his lap. “What d-do you mean? I’ll try anything.”
And then she told him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The following evening, Heaven, sprawled on a leather recliner, holding Angela to her breast as she fed her daughter a bottle. The infant girl smelled of pure baby and Heaven inhaled her scent, sniffing her daughter’s wrinkled forehead as she sucked noisily on the nipple. The soft pink sleeper that covered her body felt like silk against Heaven’s neck and jaw.
Her babies were such a joy, a comfort. She smiled to herself, remembering Gavin’s parents seeing the twins for the first time earlier that day. As they’d cuddled the twins, they seemed to come alive and, after the babies had fallen asleep, Heaven and the Mackenzie’s shared coffee and stories of Gavin before his accident. They comforted Heaven because none of Gavin’s bizarre behavior had surfaced before his head injury.
Clearly the twins would inherit no psychiatric illnesses. The senior Mackenzie’s were gentle and kind, even in their grief, and gracious to her for including them in the lives of their grandchildren.
The visit had temporarily taken her mind off of other things. Now she had no such distraction. The light in the living room was dim, but Heaven liked it that way. As her daughter fell asleep in her arms, she thought about Damon. Again. Her life loomed long and empty without him, and a weary depression weighed her down.
Aiden appeared from the kitchen. “Heaven, you know I’m taking Kendra to my house for the night, right?”
She nodded, absently.
“Should I take the babies with me? You could use a rest from them.”
Heaven hugged her daughter to her chest and kissed her, but she nodded. “Thanks, Aiden. If they whimper, I hear them and wake up. And Damon hasn’t been sleeping well.” She felt a nugget of guilt, certain that he stayed up half the night because of her. She could hear him downstairs, moving around or watching television. She slept no better than he did.
“Hey,” Aiden said, breaking into her thoughts. “Have you seen tomorrow’s newspaper? The edition that comes out tonight?”
Heaven sorted out her confusion. “What? You mean the Chicago Newsday?” That was the biggest newspaper in the Chicago area, and the following day’s paper came out the evening before. But why did he care about that? She only read the paper from time to time, catching the news on television. “Why should I see it?” she asked, without much interest.
“Interesting article in there. When I stopped off at Starbucks about a half hour ago, everyone was talking about it. Unbelievable.” He tossed her a rolled up paper she hadn’t even seen in his hand, and she caught it. Immediately, she set it aside, on a coffee table.
Aiden frowned. “Be sure to look at it,” he said. “It may cheer you up. It hasn’t been lost on me that you and Damon both look like the walking dead this past week.”
Aiden and Kendra left, the babies in tow, and Heaven’s mind, as always, returned to Damon. He’d left home about an hour ago and she had no idea where he’d gone. A twinge of jealousy pinched at her. Was he at a bar? No, he hated bars. Who cared anyways? If he found some woman, let her get involved in Damon’s web of mistrust. She didn’t need it or want it.
Heaven had to divert her mind. Her gaze caught the newspaper. Half-heartedly she reached for it, and then straightened it on her lap. So what article did Aiden want her to see? Might as well take a look; she had nothing better to do. Squinting in the faint light, she set her gaze on the headlines…and gasped.
“Oh…my…God!” She said it out loud, her heart thudding wildly against her chest. What the hell…?
Multi-Millionaire Bares his Heart To the One He Loves.
Heaven felt dizzy, as she continued reading.
Damon Steele, known for his generous charity donations, is ready to donate $500,000 to Kids in Crisis if his girlfriend will say, “I do.” Steele took out a full-page ad in the newspaper (Section C, page 2). When we attempted to reach him for more information, he had no comment.
Heaven muttered every profane word she knew, as she stopped reading the small article and tore to Section C, page 2. Her hands shaking, she ripped it open and gaped.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” she muttered, feeling her eyes widen and her jaw drop.
To the One I Love, Will You Marry Me?
Marry him! What kind of joke was this? She couldn’t swallow. He’d taken out the entire page for his letter to her. It was in color, and flowers framed the words. Did he really think that taking out some crazy, flamboyant ad in a damn million circulation paper would change her mind? Then another thought struck her, just that quickly. This wasn’t his idea! Francesca! Maybe she’d even written it for him! Bridling at the thought, she started reading, her face flaming and her body shaking. How could he have done this, even if Francesca had planted the seed? Well, it wouldn’t work. He’d wasted his money. She decided to read it anyways.
“Dearest Love,” she said out loud. She cleared her head and read on, the colored words dancing before her eyes. “You wouldn’t talk to me, so I had to resort to this drastic measure to get your attention.”
Heaven laughed, manically. Yes, this is a drastic measure, Damon! She continued. “My message isn’t long, but it comes from the heart.” She stopped smiling and her eyes filled with tears. She’d had everything figured out so neatly. Why did he keep playing with her emotions? She wiped her eyes and read out loud again, her chin trembling.
“Time and time again, I ran from my feelings. I make no excuses for my bad behavior. I don’t blame you for losing faith in me. I won’t be surprised if you don’t want to give me another chance, because I don’t deserve one, but if you do, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I’m a worthy husband. I want to marry you, and I won’t change my mind. I want to adopt the twins. I want other children too. You gave me my life, and I’m afraid of what I’ll become without you…”
A tear slid down her cheek. It was hardly eloquent, but it touched her; she couldn’t control that. “Nobody else had ever believed in me before, and it scared me at first. It still scares me, but I’m willing to take any chance, if you’ll become Mrs. Damon Steele.”
She wiped her eyes with a finger and sniffed. “I’ll be home at nine o’clock.
“Whatever you tell me, I will respect your decision. This is the last time I’ll bother you, if you truly don’t want me.
“Love, Damon.”
By now her breath came in sobs as she read the message over again.
“Oh, Damon,” she mumbled to herself. She shut the paper to look at the front page a second time. Below the headline about Damon’s full page ad, was an article dredging up the story of how Gavin had died in his house one week ago. She threw the paper aside and buried her face in her hands. The night she’d killed Gavin—she’d killed him before he could kill Damon. It had been incomprehensible that Damon could die while she still existed; impossible to think of living in a world where Damon didn’t survive, even if not with her…she could never have killed another human being, even Gavin, for anybody other than her babies or Damon.
And he would have died for her as well. He’d lunged at Gavin, who’d had a gun against his chin.
Didn’t Damon’s willingness to die for her say more about how he felt than his fear on the night they’d made love?
Didn’t Damon have sufficient reason to fear desertion? Didn’t baring his heart in the most popular newspaper in the Chicago area prove that he didn’t care what anybody thought about him, except for her?
She believed Aiden’s words; everyone would talk about his ad. Damon was a celebrity of sorts, albeit a reluctant one. He hated being talked about, but he’d put that all aside to get her attention.
Why did he have to be so sweet?
“I figured you’d call,” she said, instead of “hi.”
“This was your idea, wasn’t it?” She tried to hold back a sob.
“Yes, but he agreed with me. You know how he has trouble talking when he’s under pressure. He liked expressing himself in print.”
“He could have just written me a note!”
She laughed. “I told him the newspaper would grab your attention more. He was so desperate; he was willing to do anything. If I’d told him to dance naked on the rooftops, I think he would have done it. He’s so crazy about you, Heaven. Never seen a man love a woman as much, except maybe Dave…”
She pressed a hand over her mouth to mute her sobs.
“He paid a lot of money for that ad. Also had to grease a lot of palms to get the front page. And he still couldn’t keep the Gavin story from popping up again—”
“I don’t care.”
She didn’t.
“I did what I had to do to save those I loved.”
“You’ve been treated like a hero in the press,” Francesca said. “I doubt you know that because you’ve been in such a funk. Doubt you’ve bothered reading the papers or listening to the news—”
“Not this past week.”
“Well, you’re so popular; you could probably appear on Oprah.”
“I don’t want to appear on Oprah. I just want,” She squeezed her eyes shut and water spilled out. “I just want a nice, quiet, normal life—”
“With Damon?”
“I have to get off.” She hung up and checked the clock, adrenalin shooting through her veins. Eight o’clock. How could she wait another hour? She couldn’t. Picking up the phone receiver again, she pushed the buttons to Damon’s cell.
He answered on a half a ring. “Yes?”
Never before had one word sounded so profound. It rang of raw emotion…and fear.
“Come home now, Damon,” she said, her eyes flooding all over again. “Please come home right now, love. I can’t wait until nine o’clock.”
The phone went dead. She gaped at it, and then hung up, just as the front door shoved opened.
“Heaven? I—I was right outside on the doorstep, scared t-to death t-to come in—”
Heaven blazed into the living room, sobbing, and jumped into his arms, hanging onto him for dear life, as he hugged her just as tightly. After a long, desperate kiss, he lifted her and carried her to the chair she’d sat on before. He lowered himself onto it, pressing her to his chest as he feathered kisses on her wet cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he said, in a choked up voice. “I’m so sorry, love. I was so wrong, such a b-bastard—I d-don’t deserve you, but I swear—if y-you’ll only g-give me a chance—I’ll be the best husband on earth—and the b-best father on earth—I—I—I—”
She kissed away his struggle to speak, and he devoured her with pent up frustration and passion. He kissed her like a man completely in love. Then, he pulled away, his eyes hot. “Stand up, Sweetheart. Please.”
Reluctantly, she slid off his lap, her gaze not leaving his, as if he’d disappear if she so much as blinked. What was he up to now?
Damon also slid off the chair and dropped to one knee, taking her hand in both of his heated palms. He stared up at her, his eyes flashing with…hope?
She hadn’t noticed his appearance until then. He looked otherworldly gorgeous. His hair, freshly washed and smelling of spice, had been combed off his handsome face. His eyes glowed, clear and bright, the browns mixed in subtly with the emerald. He wore a white button polo shirt with the top three buttons opened, exposing his dark throat. Khaki’s stretched taut over his legs.
Focusing back on his face, she noticed something else; something different, an urgency. It lined his nicely chiseled features. Love washed over her. No, it cascaded over her, bathing every part of her, rendering her helpless to the emotion. She couldn’t fight it.
“I’m so sorry about the night we made love,” he said. “I spoke out of fear that you’d leave me. I-I can’t help my fear, Heaven. It’s not your f-fault. I trust you more than anyone I-I’ve ever known, but I st-still have that one fear. Every year that g-goes by—I’ll fear it less. Hell, every second! I can’t live without you, the twins—and the children we’ll have t-together.”
Tears slid down her cheeks. “I’m such a crybaby.”
He made her weak-kneed, just as he had that very first day…just as he always would.
He reached up and caught her tears with a finger. “And I’m helpless in the f-face of tears. You know that.”
She saw his throat working as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small white box. He opened it and took out the most gorgeous ring she’d ever seen—an oval diamond with deep blue sapphire baguettes climbing each side of the raised setting. “It will match your eyes,” he said. “May I put it on?”
As she caught her breath, she watched his tense face.
When she couldn’t move, he gently took her hand and slid it on. The ring tingled as she closed her fist against it. “It's—too pretentious.”
“It is.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled just a little bit. He sobered quickly. “You’re worth it. I’d give you anything; do anything for you. I love you.”
She teared up again. “I love you the same way, Damon, and just as much.” To think she’d mistaken his fears for lack of love…
Their gazes froze on one another.
Damon finally dropped his eyes and locked his fingers together, resting his forearm on his upraised thigh. “Will you marry me, Heaven?”
“Yes.” The word was out before she could have second thoughts, but, as soon as she spoke it, any second thoughts evaporated.
Damon looked up at her with so much love on his face that she reached out and brushed his cheek. He grabbed her hands and pulled her down and they sat huddled together on the floor, his cheek resting on top of her head. “I d-don’t like long engagements.”
“No.” She stroked the back of his hair. It felt so soft, just like silk.
“And, unless you want t-to be traditional, I’d love to see you in that blue t-tafetta dress I picked out for you that day. His words tickled the flesh above her breasts.
She thought about that day, and smiled.
“That dress has more meaning to us than a regular wedding gown. I’d love to wear it.”
“Good.” He paused, and then kissed her a few times below the hollow of her throat. She shivered. “We’ll marry this Sunday.”
She pulled back and stared at him.
He flashed her the first grin she’d seen from him in a long time. It overwhelmed her.
A thrill shot straight to her belly, and she pinched his cheek.
“Stop that!”
“You know I can’t resist those dimples.”
With him so close, and his statement so unexpected, she could barely think. “Did you say you want to marry on Sunday? This Sunday? Four days away?”
“At St. Vincent’s, twelve o’clock. Father Michael will do the honors. Unless you have your heart set on a b-big wedding—we can wait—”
“No!” She suddenly felt euphoric. Laughing, she threw her arms around his neck and he tumbled backwards, his strong arms gripping her tightly.
“Do we have to wait until Sunday?” she asked, lifting her head to give him a mischievous smile.
“Well, although I d-don’t want a large ceremony, I thought we’d m-make sure a few special people could be there, including Dave and Francesca.”
He stroked the side of her face.
“Ah, yes,” she said, feeling that familiar tingle that she’d missed so much; the one only he could spark. “We certainly need to make sure Francesca can come.”
She hugged his head to her and kissed his hair all over, enjoying the stirring inside of her.
Groaning, she said, “
But I’m so impatient. How am I going to wait for four days, Damon? That seems way too long.”
Damon freed his head from her grasp and stared at her. His eyes flashed with predatory hunger, and he gently rolled her off him, so that their bodies pressed together, side by side. With more room to move, he reached for the top button of her blouse, as her body flamed in anticipation.
“I’m sure we can think of plenty of things t-to do while we wait. I’ll k-keep you busy, love. I promise you that.” Damon grinned at her, his dimples flashing in all their glory. “I plan on keeping you busy this way for the rest of our lives.”
The End
Raven Knight has always loved to read books, especially IR books and decided one day to try her hand at it. While she also busy raising kids and normal life, Raven thinks it is important to always take time to read a good book. Her mother reports that she drew pictures and printed words in an attempt to tell stories, even at the tender age of two. As a born storyteller, she kept writing and won awards for creative writing, becoming known as "The Writer" by peers. Having married at 20, she put writing on the backburner and worked in many interesting fields, including a position at The Chicago Tribune.
When all her children were finally in grade school, Nicole started writing again. She had always been a voracious reader of the genre and decided to focus on writing romance. Ms. Knight is a member of Romance Writers of America and WisRWA.
Raven’s special interests include adoption, Bipolar Disorder, Domestic Abuse, Animals, and Autism as they have all touched her life. She currently resides in central Wisconsin with her loving husband and their children.
Red Rose Publishing
Touch Me in the Morning