by MK Schiller
“Damien, it was inevitable. I don’t know how a woman can’t fall in love with you.” The words were true and they tasted completely bitter to me. I reigned in my jealousy, giving him a reassuring smile. It was what I wanted for him. It was what I told him to do. He was in a relationship and happy.
And fuck…I’d just given him a blowjob.
Every muscle in my body constricted with a new dreadful thought that washed the sickening feeling of guilt over me like a blanket. I sat up, covering my face in my hands.
“What is it?” He grasped my shoulder. “Are you hyperventilating? Breathe, Jessie.” He rubbed my back, but I slapped his hand away.
“Oh my God, are we cheating? Am I cheater?”
“Calm down, baby. I broke up with her. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”
I instantly relaxed. It helped that he massaged my shoulders and kissed my neck. I thought of asking him why he’d left her. The girl was close to his age, gorgeous, and I was sure she’d give him all of the things he wanted, but I stifled the words. I was going to be selfish and keep enjoying him for as long as possible.
He pulled me down on the bed and rained kisses against my face, relaxing me. “I wouldn’t do that.”
It was true. He wasn’t a cheat. He’d told me once he wouldn’t be able to forgive it if someone cheated on him, and Damien was no hypocrite.
“Am I a horrible person for feeling relieved you’re not seeing anyone?” he said, punctuating each word with a desperate kiss.
“How do you know? You didn’t ask.”
“You wouldn’t be in here if you were.”
I felt ashamed for questioning him.
He nibbled on my ear and his hot breath felt like a deep caress. “Don’t pull away from me again. Second thoughts and regrets are for tomorrow, but tonight you are mine and only mine.”
“I won’t regret it,” I replied honestly. “I could never regret anything with you.”
“The same here. I fetish you so bad, baby.”
I leaned up on my elbows, placing my mouth close to his ear, breathing out one single hushed word, “Extrapolate.”
He growled, pushing me down on the bed. He spread my legs apart, licking his lips before he kissed each of my knees. He entered me with a hard thrust. I dug my nails into his back.
“That’s right, baby. Mark me. I want to feel you tomorrow and the next day.”
I raked his back, digging my nails so deep that I knew I’d drawn blood. His eyes radiated fire and lust as his lips curled into a wicked smile.
He grabbed my wrist, placing it on his chest. I rubbed the area, but he shook his head. “Claw away.” He growled the demand.
I complied.
Then I touched the pads of my fingers to his lips. He sucked them into his mouth, closing his eyes as he propelled into me.
He drew himself all the way out before slamming back into me, halting any further words from passing between us. His fingers twined into mine and our moans echoed through the room in rhythmic, repetitive harmony. I bent my legs over his ass, coaxing him deeper still. I yearned to feel him the next day and the next after that too. His eyes never left mine, holding me in place, commanding me with every movement. I didn’t want to come, but I couldn’t hold back.
“Damien!”
“Yes, now,” he directed, drawing out each word with additional slow, sexy syllables.
He didn’t take much longer. He closed his eyes, rearing his head back, chanting my name. Our name. He fell against me. I wrapped my arms around him, not wanting to let go. I felt his heart beat with mine, and his ragged breath against my neck, filling the space between us.
“I don’t want to get out,” he whispered.
“Out where?” I gasped.
“Out of you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
He’d held me all night, and we’d talked. Not about us, but easier subjects. He asked if I’d had any offers on the house. I asked him about his latest acquisitions and business dealings. I think we both just wanted to hear each other’s voices. Inevitably, the morning came with its glaring sun and harsh light. If only I could pull the shades down and keep us together for a few more minutes, a couple of hours, several days…fuck—how about forever?
We stopped to check on Billie before we left. He became unusually quiet. It was funny how I understood his actions. The behaviour was rare for him, unless he was sad. I had a feeling it was about more than just us. In fact, when I stepped outside my own self-indulgence, he’d seemed this way since he picked me up. I’d been too selfish and distracted to notice it.
When we were in the air, he got a phone call and all my suspicions confirmed themselves.
“I don’t know if I’m going,” he told the caller. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise his schedule was so important. I mean, he’s the one that’s really suffering right? I don’t fucking care.” Each sentence was spoken in louder octaves, filled with sarcasm. I’d witnessed Damien on business calls many times. He was cool and collected, never letting his temper flair. He never got emotional.
“Who was that?” I asked, when he hung up.
“Derek,” he grumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. When we get back, the limo can drop you off. I’ll take a cab back to my office.”
I clasped his hand. “Don’t lie to me, Damien. You’re not a good poker player either. Tell me what’s going on.”
He laughed with some cynicism. “Thank you for last night. I needed it. God knows, I needed it, but you don’t have to concern yourself with me.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t push me out. I know we’re not a couple. I know that things between us are tense and awkward, but I still love and care about you. You can’t turn that off, no matter how much you want to. Talk to me. I’m here for you.”
He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The man who killed my wife is up for early parole.”
“Already?”
“Yes, the bastard’s had good behaviour and the prisons are overcrowded, so yeah.”
“I’m sorry, Damien.”
“My lawyer tells me it’s unlikely he’ll get off, but there is a slim chance. I’m invited to attend the hearing. To give my input, so to speak. If they’d let me have my way, they’d lock me up in a cell with him. I’d just need a few minutes to exorcise my own brand of justice.” There was venom in his voice like I’d never heard.
“Are you going?”
“I don’t know. I received the letter a few weeks ago and I’ve been avoiding it. I’m trying so hard to move on, and this would be like reliving what happened. I keep thinking about Belle though. She deserves a voice. I don’t know if her mom’s going to be there, and if she’s not, Belle doesn’t get to be heard unless I go.”
“Why wouldn’t her mother go?”
“They had a falling out, over me.”
“How could any mother not love you, Damien?”
“Think about it, Jessie. What would you say if one of your daughters told you her poor, college dropout, ex-stripper boyfriend got her pregnant?”
“I guess on the surface it comes across differently.”
“Belle’s family was wealthy and her mother never thought I was good enough for her daughter.”
“I’m sure her mom will be there. A mother always protects her daughter, no matter what. Are you going to go?”
“I don’t want to, but I think I have to.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“My mother and Derek said they would come and support me.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. If you don’t want me there, that’s fine. If on some level, you think my presence will help you, then tell me because I will be there for you too.”
He slammed his head back against the seat. “It’ll be strange for you. I’ll be talking about her and how much she meant to me. I can’t ask you to witness that.”
I took his hand, slowly unclenching his fingers, and held it. “
Damien, the fact that you loved your wife and child just makes you more remarkable to me. I would never disrespect that with petty feelings. If it helps you in any way for me to be there, then tell me.”
He slid his arm around me, pulling me against his chest. “I want you there. I know it’s not normal, but you comfort and calm me like no one else. You give me strength.”
I slid my pinky into his. “Whoever said we were normal?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The prison was a formidable building, spanning eight city blocks, each wall an impenetrable force designed to keep its inhabitants locked away and society safe from them.
Damien appeared stoic and brave, passing through the security checkpoints with ease. Derek was a carbon copy of his brother, walking beside him in silent support. Damien’s mother and I were less so, as we glanced nervously at all the guards with guns.
We finally made it into a cramped room with a conference table much too large for the space, making everything so confined it felt like we’d become imprisoned. Damien held a chair out for me, gesturing me to sit. He did the same for his mother, taking the middle seat for himself. Derek sat behind us in one of the foldout metal chairs that had been set up. I squeezed Damien’s hand, wishing I had the right words for what he was about to do.
His face registered shock when an elderly woman dressed in black slacks and a simple blue sweater walked in. We’d been instructed not to wear jewellery or showy clothes, but she managed to wear her wealth all the same, like a permanent accessory.
“I can’t believe she came,” Angela whispered.
It was apparent from the look on his face that Damien hadn’t been expecting it either.
Damien and her nodded towards each other, but no words were spoken because the prisoner was brought in, turning all our attention to him
Earl Shultz was a small man with a wide face and sour disposition. He didn’t look in our direction. He didn’t meet Damien’s glare. I think the idea behind the victim’s families attending was about more than eliciting an opinion. It was supposed to be cathartic, yet there was something cruel about it. The business meeting climate covered the devastation that a young girl and her baby had died. The lawyers and parole board went through the charges as if the reason for it wasn’t clear. Of course, these were all necessary steps to the judicial process, but hearing Damien’s grief diminished my belief in the system. I held his hand, wishing there was more I could do or say to take his pain away.
It was Mary Kearns, Annabelle’s mother, who spoke first. She took out a folded piece of paper, and read from it, occasionally glancing up at Earl Shultz who never once met her eyes. Her words were saturated with an innate sadness and anger that was palpable.
“Mr Shultz, I know you’re here for manslaughter and drunk-driving offences, but I believe there is one charge you were never convicted of. First and foremost, you are a thief.” She swallowed hard, and Angela passed her one of the several boxes of tissues on the table. “My daughter and I never saw eye to eye. She thought I was pretentious and vain. I thought she was a dreamer and her romantic ideologies were going to ruin her life. We had a falling out when she left my house. She thought it was because I didn’t love her. On the contrary”—she squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath—“I loved her so much I just wanted her happiness. Little did I know that my Annabelle was stronger than I ever gave her credit for. The realisation doesn’t take away my own heartache that I never made amends with her. You stole that from me, sir. You stole my chance to be in my daughter’s life…and my granddaughter’s.”
The thing about mothers is that we all belong to some sort of club…we automatically have a bond because we know what it is to love a child. Hearing another mother’s sorrow, no matter if she was friend or stranger, hurt my heart. It took my mind to places I didn’t want to go. If I lost one of my girls, I don’t know what I would do. A child should never pass before a parent—it’s not natural or right.
I blinked, feeling my eyes cloud with salty tears. Damien squeezed my hand tighter and handed me a tissue. Oh my God, I was supposed to be supporting him, and the man was trying to comfort me. I willed myself to stop crying and remember the reason I came. For him.
She cleared her throat before continuing, “Every day is filled with those regrets for me. I’d like to specifically talk about the days you stole from me. The Christmas ornaments she made when she was little now stay in the box. I don’t even buy a tree anymore. Her birthday is a day of misery. There will never be cake or balloons again. She loved Halloween and so did I. I could have sewn a costume for my granddaughter. I’m a very good seamstress, but instead I can’t even pass out candy. You took those days from me. Those are memories that will never happen because you decided to get in your car that day. I appeal to you,” she said to the parole board members. “Let him serve his full sentence, let him rot to death in here, because there is no kind of retribution that is enough. Take all the days from him you can.”
Damien took a sip of his water. He took out the sheet of paper he’d brought with him. The one he’d read to me last night. His hands were shaking. I stilled them with mine, before unfolding the paper and laying it flat on the table. He looked up at Earl Shultz, who stared at his cuffed hands. Damien stared back but didn’t speak for a long time.
“Take your time,” one of the board members said. “We know this is difficult.”
It seemed an understatement.
“I intend to.” Damien’s voice was cold and emotional at the same time. Damien stared at Earl Shultz, his facial expressions ranging from hot anger to cold disdain. He straightened in his chair, clearing his throat, regaining his composure.
“Look at me,” he finally said, in a cold, quiet voice, which yielded command.
The man looked him.
Damien stared down at the paper he’d spent hours composing. He crumpled it up in his hands. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit, taking out a photo of a beautiful blonde woman in a pink sundress. “This is Annabelle. Look at her,” he said, pointing to the photo.
Earl glanced at the photo before turning away.
“And this is Sarah,” Damien said, taking out an ultrasound photo. “These were my girls. I loved Annabelle, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of her. She was shy and quiet, but she cared about people in a way that isn’t common. For example, if she noticed you stumbling out of that bar, she would have insisted on calling you a cab. That’s the kind of person she was.” He picked up the ultrasound photo, holding it up. Damien slammed his fist on the table causing all of us to jerk.
“Look!”
Earl Shultz did.
“This is Sarah. I never met her. I wonder what kind of kid she would be. Would she have been a girly-girl? A tomboy? The only thing I know for sure is that she would have been a daddy’s girl because I would have spoilt her. The fact is, I’ll never know who she would have become because of you. She would be six years old right now. I should be teaching her the right way to kick a soccer ball and taking her to kindergarten, but instead I’m here with you. I thought real hard about forgiveness, and God knows, I tried to find it, but I’m not there and I don’t know if I’ll ever be. It’s ironic, because Annabelle would tell me to forgive you, but I’m not as strong as her. I don’t want them to release you, but that’s not my call, is it? It’s up to these gentlemen, and frankly I’m glad, because a decision like that is above my pay grade. I didn’t come here to weigh in on your future or talk about the past. I wanted you to know who they were…to me. I want you to take a close look at these photos and burn the images into your skull. Whether you’re here in a tiny cell or out there as a free man, I hope you wake up every morning thinking about the decision you made that day.” His voice choked then, and I grasped his hand tighter. He took a deep breath. “Think about my beautiful wife, and my baby, who never had a chance at this life, and all the tomorrows that will never be because of you.”
I bit my lip to keep it from quiv
ering. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears locked inside. Damien was the strongest man I knew. Not because he could speak those words with such clarity, but because he didn’t reach across the table and kill Earl Shultz.
When it was Earl’s turn to speak, he responded with one sentence before he broke down and wept. “I’m sorry.”
The parole board was set to make its decision in a week. I took a deep breath as soon as we made it outside, letting the clean air fill my lungs, trying to dispel the stink of that stuffy room.
Damien pulled me aside. “Are you okay, Jessie?”
He was asking me if I was all right? “Damien, I was going to ask you the same thing. What you did was very brave.”
“I don’t know about that. It’s just what I had to do.” He tilted my chin towards him. “We may not be together, but I was thinking if things were in reverse, I would have a hard time hearing you talk about someone you love like that.”
I covered his mouth. “Don’t ever apologise for how much you loved her. It just reinforces what a good man you are.”
“Thank you for coming with me.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You did more than you can ever know. You give me strength, Jessie.” He walked towards Derek and his mother then. I took advantage of the few minutes of reprieve to get a hold of myself. In that moment, I’d give him anything he wanted. I’d raise children with him. We’d make a family. But in the end, I couldn’t make a decision like that based on the rapid emotions I was feeling.
“I’m proud of you, son,” Angela said.
“I don’t think I accomplished anything.”
“You did. You gave her a voice. You gave them both a voice,” she said. She was right. That’s exactly what he’d done.
We said our goodbyes to Derek, who had to leave right away.
“Thanks for coming,” Damien said, embracing his brother.
“You know you can count on me. I loved her too, bro.”
We started walking towards the parking lot, but Mary Kearns stopped us when she called Damien’s name. She asked for a word in private. They walked off to a nearby bench. It was cold outside, but not unbearable.