“Since you know everything—” he finally tasted his drink “—what do you want from me?”
“I want to know what’s gone wrong.” She paused and clarified, “Why have you two broken up?”
“Hell if I know. She said she needed some space.” He rubbed the perpetual knot of tension in his neck. “I can’t figure her out these days. At Thanksgiving, she told me she loved me, and a few weeks later, she needs some space.”
“And what did you say when she confessed her feelings?”
“That I care about her.”
Rachel’s eyebrow rose. “Is that all?”
“What else was I supposed to say?” At her chastising stare, he defensively added, “Look, I’m not going to be pressured into admitting anything.”
Rachel placed a hand on her hip. “Did Natasha pressure you?”
“No,” he admitted on a sigh. “Actually, she was great about it, although I’m sure my lack of reciprocation upset her.”
“Do you think she fabricated this breakup to get you to tell her what she wants to hear?”
“No, Natasha doesn’t play games like that. It’s one of the things I admire about her.”
Rachel smiled. “What else do you admire about her?”
“Rachel, don’t start.”
She ignored his warning. “How do you feel about her, Damien?”
“I care about her,” he reiterated.
“Is that all?” She placed a hand on his arm. “Really?”
“Rachel…”
“Damien, I was worried when I realized you two were becoming an item—albeit a secret item—but in the past few months, I’ve seen the old Damien I sadly thought was gone reemerge, and that’s because of Natasha. Don’t lose your one chance at happiness because you’re clinging to the past hurts.”
“I’m trying to give her what she says she needs.”
“What about what you need?” When he didn’t respond, she urged, “Go talk to her—I dare you.”
An eyebrow rose at her challenge, and she laughed. After several seconds, he joined her. Actually, he felt better than he had since Natasha had unexpectedly kicked him out of her life.
“Maybe I will.”
“Do it, or I’ll sick Margaret and Marcy on you,” she promised with a smile.
“And if you do, you’ll be looking for a new job,” he threatened.
“You don’t scare me, mister,” Rachel scoffed. “Now go and take care of your business.”
“Good night, Rachel.” He kissed her cheek and shepherded her toward the elevator.
“Make it a really good night by going to see Natasha,” she suggested before the elevator closed.
Damien stood there for a few seconds before coming to a decision. Reaching for his jacket and picking up his keys, he waited impatiently for the elevator to return.
* * *
Natasha and Damien stared at each other uneasily for a few seconds after she opened the door to her apartment. God, she had missed him over the past week, during which time she had done a lot of thinking and soul-searching, but she still didn’t know how to tell him that she was pregnant, and seeing him on her doorstep was sending her into a tailspin.
“Damien, what are you doing here?”
“Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“Yes, I am,” she softly admitted. “But I thought you were going to give me some space.”
“I’ve given you enough space, Natasha.” He took off his jacket and tossed it over a chair. “We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Us.”
“What about us?”
He sighed and took her hand. “Tasha, come sit down with me.”
“I really should get dinner…”
“Dinner can wait.” He pulled her over to the sofa. “Please.”
“Okay.” She sat down next to him.
“I think I know why you’ve been upset and distant.”
No, you really couldn’t. If you did, you’d probably run out that door and never return.
“I’ve just got a lot on my mind, Damien.”
“I know I haven’t been fair to you,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You poured your heart out to me at Thanksgiving, and I haven’t reciprocated.”
“Damien, that isn’t what this is about. I don’t want you to admit anything you don’t feel.”
But God, if there was ever a time for you to tell me that you love me, this is it. Was he about to do that? She prayed he was; it would make things so much easier if he did.
“I think it is,” he contradicted. “I want you to understand why it’s so hard for me to admit my feelings for you—and I do have feelings for you, Tasha, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She touched his hand. “I do.”
He was silent for a while before admitting, “It happened ten years ago when I was twenty-two—young and stupid.” He laughed without humor.
She blinked. “What happened?”
“There was this ballerina, Mia.” He began a story he had vowed never to recount again.
“Mia?” she softly repeated.
“We met when I was dancing in a troupe in Atlanta. We started a relationship—one that nearly cost me my life and my career.”
Her eyes grew wide. “What happened?”
“I was in love with her—with whom I thought she was,” he quickly amended. “She was very good at pretending to be whatever anyone wanted her to be. I soon found out that everything that I fell in love with was a lie.” He paused before continuing, “Mia was a gold digger. I was a struggling dancer, but she found out my family was rich—so she set her sights on me. I was her ticket to the good life. Her M.O. was to gain access to the personnel records of dancers she deemed worthy candidates to sink her claws into. She studied her victims’ habits, likes, dislikes, views on life—any and everything she could learn about them, and then set about making them believe she was tailor-made for them. Believe me, she was very convincing.”
“How many men did she do this to?”
“As far as I know, I was her second mark. The first guy left town to get away from her. Unfortunately, I learned of her plans after I had become entangled in her web of deceit.” He laughed self-derisively. “What a fool I was to trust her. I thought she was too good to be true, and she was.” He paused to gather his thoughts and continued, “Things were great between us for a few months, but then I started noticing things—her sudden and extreme mood swings, her obsessive jealousy and her dangerously volatile temper. I realized she wasn’t who I thought she was and definitely wasn’t someone I wanted in my life. I spoke with Rachel, whom I had met several months earlier when I moved to Atlanta. We had hit it off immediately and became friends. She confirmed my assessment of Mia, and I ended the relationship.”
“And she accepted your decision?”
“No.” He shook his head. “She didn’t. I learned what vindictive meant from her.”
“What did she do?”
“What didn’t she do?” His eyes grew hard. “She showed up unannounced, made scenes at work and in public. Slashed my tires and broke into my apartment.” He rattled off the list of offenses.
“That must have been horrible for you.”
“It was,” he agreed, rubbing his jaw. “This went on for weeks, and as a last resort to keep me, she told me she was pregnant. I was going to marry her until I thankfully found out she was lying about the baby.” He closed his eyes briefly. “Thank God I found out in time.”
Natasha’s heart sank at his words. How ironic was it that she needed to tell him she was pregnant, and he was now confessing that a past girlfriend had tried to trap him with a fake pregnanc
y? Why did he have to tell her this now, of all times?
“How could she lie about something like that?”
“That was just Mia. She wasn’t above saying anything to get what she wanted.” He shrugged. “She really started stalking me after that, and nothing stopped her until one fateful day when I got into a car with her. She promised if I just talked to her, gave her a chance for some closure, she would leave me alone. I was willing to try anything to get her out of my life, so I did as she asked.”
“What did she say to you?”
“Not much really. It’s what she did that forever changed both of our lives.” He paused and she remained silent, giving him the chance to collect his thoughts. “She started driving erratically and said if she couldn’t have me, no one would. I demanded she stop the car. She refused, so I wrestled with her for control, and she deliberately crashed us into a concrete wall. She was killed. I was seriously injured and as a result, I went through intensive rehabilitation and I couldn’t perform professionally anymore.”
“Oh God, Damien.” She placed a comforting hand on his arm. “That’s the source of your scars, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I was very bitter and I don’t like thinking about it.”
“I understand. You had a right to be bitter.”
“I know.” He sighed. “But I was destroying myself with hate and rage. My family came down to Atlanta and, along with Rachel, they nursed me back to health through multiple skin grafts and surgeries. They were my lifeline.”
“Thank God you had them.” She cupped his cheek.
“Yes.” He covered her hand with his. “Marcy and my parents persuaded me to come home to New York to fully recuperate and suggested I try choreography instead of performing. Eventually I did, and soon after I founded my ballet company.”
“You made a wise move.”
“It didn’t feel like it at the time, but it was the right choice for me. When my body healed, I realized I was more fueled by choreography, management and direction rather than actually performing. So everything worked out as it was meant to.” He covered her hand with his. “But since that ordeal with Mia, I’ve shunned serious relationships—especially with ballerinas. I’ve had affairs and I’ve been photographed with beautiful women on my arms, but I was never serious about any of them.” He gazed deeply into her eyes. “When I met you, for the first time I wanted to forget my resolve not to get involved again.”
She smiled slightly. “You did?”
“Yes.” He kissed her palm. “You have allowed me to trust again, Tasha.”
“I’m glad.” She kissed him softly before asking, “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because you deserve to know.” He paused. “Because I want you to understand why it’s so hard for me to admit what I feel.”
“I do understand now.” She covered his hand with hers.
“Natasha, I do…”
“No, Damien.” She placed a silencing finger on his lips. “You don’t owe me any declarations—not out of some sense of duty or because you think it’s what I want to hear.”
“You are a remarkable woman, do you know that?”
“Just as long as you know it.” She smiled when he laughed as she intended.
He pulled her close. “Trust me, I know it.”
“I’m glad you told me about Mia.”
“So am I.” He pulled her closer. “I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“It’s okay. I know now.”
Part of her wished he hadn’t confessed about Mia right now—not when she was trying to garner the nerve to tell him he was going to be a father. She did understand his reluctance to open up to her better now, but it also made her current predicament that much harder to resolve.
She buried her face in his neck, glad he couldn’t see the worry etched across her features. Would he be happy about her pregnancy, or would he believe, like Mia, she was trying to trap him with a child?
“I do care about you,” he whispered against her hair. “So much.”
“I know you do.” She kissed his neck.
After several minutes of silence, he asked, “Haven’t you had enough time alone to think?”
“Yeah, I think I have,” she agreed.
His arms tightened around her and she hugged him back. He had given her an opening to confess her pregnancy, yet she didn’t take it. She was still holding out, hoping with all her heart that one day soon, he would say the three little words she longed to hear, which would give her the courage and reassurance she needed to tell him about their baby.
She still had some fears and uncertainty to deal with, including the confession Damien had just made, but one thing was certain—she wanted Damien in her life, and she wanted their baby. She had to believe he would want them both once she found the courage to confess to him.
* * *
The next two weeks since their happy reconciliation flew by. Natasha had mostly come to terms with her unplanned pregnancy, though she was still terrified of the uncertainty it created. Finally she realized there was nothing to be done, except deal with the frightening yet wonderful condition she now found herself in. She still hadn’t garnered the courage to tell Damien, but she was working on it.
At long last, the ballet was ready. They had their first dress rehearsal on Christmas Eve, before he released the cast for a two-day Christmas break. They both were going to their respective parents for Christmas—she to Rochester and he would be staying in Manhattan.
“I’ll miss you, Damien.” Natasha took his face between her hands. “Very, very much.”
“Me too.” His hands rested on her tiny waist.
“You’ll find a little something from me under your tree.” She caressed his face with her fingertips.
“Tasha, we said we weren’t going to buy each other presents,” he reminded.
“I know.” She smiled. “But I lied.”
“Well…” he slowly began. “You’ll find something in your suitcase from me too,” he confessed.
She laughed and he pulled her close. He had to fight with everything in him to stop himself from begging her to stay. He had just gotten her back and was loathed to let her go even for a short period, but they were only going to be apart for two days, he silently reminded. He could do without her for a couple of days, couldn’t he? They both remained silent and reluctantly pulled apart slightly.
“We’ll take our presents with us and put them under our parents’ trees, but we won’t open them until Christmas morning at exactly eight o’clock. That way even though we’re not physically together, it’ll seem as if we are.”
He smiled at her. “It’s a deal.”
They gazed at each other, as if memorizing every feature to sustain them while they were apart, before their mouths melted together. They kissed and kissed and kissed.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispered against his mouth she pushed out of his wonderful arms and hurriedly left before he saw the unshed tears in her eyes.
“Merry Christmas, Tasha,” he replied to the empty room, amazed at how much he wanted to run after her.
* * *
Natasha slowly picked up Damien’s present to her as it lay under the now-barren tree. She slowly opened the black velvet box and immediately started crying.
“Tash, what’s wrong?” Nicole rushed to her side.
She didn’t respond but instead lovingly fingered the gold necklace with two interlocking hearts. He was telling her his heart was intertwined with hers inseparably. He had given her his heart.
Nicole and her parents watched as she slowly raised the necklace out of its box. Tears continued to fall as she cradled it in her palm as if it was the most precious thing in the world, and to her it was.
“Is it from Damien?”
Nicole’s question was unnecessary. Only a gift from Damien could reduce her sister to uncontrollable tears. All Natasha was capable of doing was nodding.
“You love him?” Her mother’s question was rhetorical.
“Yes, with all my heart.” Natasha’s voice returned as she smiled at her mother through tears.
“He loves you too,” her father responded approvingly.
“He does,” Nicole confirmed, squeezing her hand.
“I know he does—now,” she agreed, handing the necklace to Nicole, who placed it around her neck.
Nicole glanced at their parents to make certain they were engrossed in each other and their presents before she spoke next. To make certain she wasn’t overheard, she pulled Natasha a few feet away.
“I think it’s time for you tell him about the baby, Tash.”
“I think you’re right.”
Natasha pulled her sister close. She loved her family dearly, but she was secretly counting the seconds until she could leave and be with Damien again.
* * *
Damien sat around the tree with his family, home on Christmas morning opening gifts. He smiled and laughed, yet his heart wasn’t in it. He missed Natasha terribly. Marcy handed him the present Natasha had left for him and he slowly opened it. It was a heavy, expensive oval-shaped crystal frame. Within it was an eight-by-ten oval-shaped charcoal drawing showing them as they were now and at various stages of aging—always together, happy and very much in love. He gently fingered her smiling face and realized she was trying to prove to him that she wanted a life with him—that she would always be there beside him, if he would let her.
Marcy watched her brother’s expression and knew he was overcome by whatever the gift had been. She gently took the picture from him and smiled lovingly before showing it to their watchful parents.
“What a lovely drawing, don’t you think so, Michael?”
Margaret tilted the frame so her husband could see it.
Our First Dance Page 17