Love Always, Damian

by D. Nichole King

  ~*~

  I’m home before Ellie calls. I don’t know why, but I miss hearing her voice. The one that wasn’t hard and clipped and stubborn. Hopefully, tonight won’t be like that.

  When I walk through the door, I expect blonde hair and big, blue irises to race toward me, happy I’m back. Then I remember her attitude before I left and disappointment plunges into my gut as I’m greeted with dead silence. Not even the sound of the television pours out.

  I toss my keys on the counter and round the corner into the living room. Dylan’s there, on the sofa, with his laptop and headphones on. Lia is—

  Nowhere to be seen.

  “Yo, dude,” I say loudly even though I’m standing next to him.

  He slides the headphones off and fucking glares at me.

  “Where’s Lia?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, my babysitter takes his sweet-ass time putting his laptop aside and takes a drink of beer. Then he sits back and kicks his feet up on the coffee table.

  “Where is Lia?” I demand this time. His silence is beginning to piss me off.

  “See these?” he asks, holding up his headphones. “I put them on over two hours ago because she wouldn’t stop screaming after you left. From inside your bedroom.”

  “She’s not screaming now, man. Have you checked on her?”

  “Yeah. She cried herself to sleep thirty minutes ago. But let me warn you, dude, your room is destroyed.”

  “Destroyed? What do you mean?”

  The asshole has the gall to smirk at me. “Go see for yourself,” he says, and puts his headphones back on, effectively drowning me out.

  “Shithead,” I mutter.

  I make my way to my bedroom. In case Dylan is right and Lia is asleep, I open the door quietly and stick my head inside. The pony nightlight beside her bed is on, but it’s not necessary to see her. It’s still dusk outside, and small beams of sunlight filter through the curtains and land on her.

  Curled up in the very middle of my bed is my daughter, sound asleep. Holding her blanket and sucking her thumb. She has one of my dirty t-shirts draped over her like a sheet with her tiny bare feet sticking out of the bottom. My heart thuds at the sight of her.

  Around me, I see what Dylan warned me about. Lia’s books and toys are everywhere, scattered about like confetti. My clothes are on the floor too, but I can’t remember if I left them there or if this is Lia’s handiwork as well.

  The clothes I don’t care about; the shit that was sitting on top of my dresser, however, I do. None of it is there. Not even the little Twilight Sparkle Lia gave me.

  But the missing pony isn’t what’s causing flames to erupt behind my ribs.

  Anger burns in my chest, and I start to lose it. I’m breathing hard, rolling my fingers inward and tightening them.

  I’ve got to find it.

  I drop to my knees to search behind the dresser. Under the bed. I rummage through the clothing on the floor, tossing shirts, jeans, and socks as I go.

  I don’t see it anywhere.

  Shit.

  I squeeze my eyes closed for a second so I can gain some control. The last thing I want to do is flip out on Lia, even though every cell in my body wants to.

  I unclench my fists and open my eyes. Stand over the bed.

  A ray of sunlight catches something in Lia’s hand. The gleam bounces off, and the piece of jewelry sparkles, revealing itself. Instant relief rushes in.

  Gently, I pry Lia’s fingers open. The diamond trinity heart is clutched inside her tiny hand, the silver chain wrapped around her wrist so I can’t get to it. She stirs, and an eyelid pops open. Her lips curve downward as she gazes up at me. Those blues glisten with fresh tears, and suddenly Lia’s eyebrows pinch together and her lips pucker.

  “You were not supposed to leave me. Ever!” she cries.

  The outburst surprises me, but I don’t flinch. “Lia, I was only gone for a few hours. I was coming back.”

  She shakes her head, tears spilling over her lashes and down her cheeks. “I didn’t have a daddy before you, and you can’t go away!”

  What clicks from this admission is that until Ellie introduced us, Lia never knew she had a father. She met me that one night, and I told Ellie to leave. The next day, they went to board a plane and had I not showed up, Lia would have been fatherless again. To Lia, my absence tonight struck fear into her little heart that I might be gone for good.

  I sit on the edge of the bed and gather her into my arms. “It’s okay, Lia. I promise you, I’ll never leave you and not come back. Never, ever,” I say, and I mean it.

  “Promise, promise?” she asks, her lower lip trembling.

  I hug her against me. “I promise, promise.”

  ~*~

  Ellie’s due to call any minute now. She’d said she preferred to call us instead of the other way around. At least until her schedule was set.

  The phone is on my bed, and I’m helping Lia pick up her mess. I toss my dirty clothes in the basket in the closet. Lia collects her books, puts them in her tote, and slides it under her bed.

  She gave me the necklace, which I laid in the velvet box where it belongs. Then I set it back on top of my dresser along with the rest of the stuff Lia hid under my pillows.

  “What’s the necklace for?” she asks, studying me.

  “It belonged to a very special girl.”

  Lia points to the picture on the nightstand beside my bed of Kate and me at prom. “Is it that girl? The one with no hair?”

  I nod. “Yeah, it’s that girl.”

  “She’s wearing the necklace in the picture.”

  “She wore it all the time.”

  “She doesn’t have hair like Olivia won’t have hair,” Lia muses.

  I sit on the edge of the bed. “Like Olivia, Kate had cancer and the medicine made her hair fall out.”

  “Where is she now?”

  I swallow and bow my head, unsure of whether or not to tell Lia the truth. Olivia’s prognosis is good, and I don’t want to scare my daughter. But I also don’t know what else to tell her. “She died.”

  Lia frowns. Her eyes dart to the picture then up at me. “Will Olivia die?”

  “No, babygirl. Your grandpa is going to help Olivia and make her as good as new.”

  Lia doesn’t respond, puckering her lips as if she’s letting what I said sink in. She glances up at my dresser and points to another picture sitting there. “Who’s that boy with Mickey Mouse?”

  I slide my palms down my thighs and stand up. I grab the blue frame, staring at the face beaming back at me. At Kate’s funeral, I’d asked Brennan to send me a photo of him and Mickey Mouse. He and his mother went on the trip to Disney World that I’d originally bought for Kate and myself.

  I show Lia the photo. “This is Brennan. He had cancer too, but your grandpa is a good doctor, and Brennan doesn’t have cancer anymore.”

  “Like Olivia won’t,” Lia says matter-of-factly, accepting what I said.

  “Right. Like Olivia won’t.”

  Lia nods, happy, and resumes picking up her toys. Two minutes later, my cell rings, and she drops what’s in her arms. “Mommy!”

  I hold up a finger to silence her before I answer. “Hey, Elle.”

  “Hi, Damian. Can I talk with Lia?”

  It’s the same thing she’s said for days. She calls in the morning before she heads out on her study. I strain to hear something in the background, something that tells me she’s not alone.

  Why? I have no fucking idea.

  There’s nothing, though, and that rubs me the wrong way. It should make me relieved, but it doesn’t. Maybe if I knew Blake stayed all night with her, I’d have a reason for her nonchalance when she “talks” to me.

  Or maybe it’d give me reason to fly to Australia and beat the guy’s face in. Either way.

  “Yeah. Hang on,” I say like I always do and hand the phone off to Lia.

  Lia bounces around the room, talking Ellie’s ear off. Ellie call
s every twenty-four hours without fail, yet Lia always finds a ton of stuff to say.

  “Daddy had a meeting tonight and left me with Dylan,” she tells her mom. Funny how she leaves out the parts about her screaming and throwing shit all over my bedroom. She pauses and cocks her head to the side. “What do you mean ‘what does Damian smell like?’”

  I have to admit, I find that amusing. Ellie must think I left Lia to go boozing. Probably picked up a girl while I’m at it.

  “Yes, Mommy, he came back home alone.”

  Bingo.

  She doesn’t trust me. I don’t blame her, but it still stings to hear.

  “Okay. I love you too, Mommy.” She sends Ellie a kissy noise before she gives the phone back to me.

  “Hi, Elle,” I say again, expecting her usual clipped “Same time tomorrow. Goodbye, Damian” routine. Instead, she says, “You left her with Dylan?” There’s an accusation in her tone and because I feel the need to prove myself, I want to keep calm.

  “I was gone for three hours, Ellie. That’s it,” I reply.

  “And you couldn’t have taken her with you?”

  “Do you take her everywhere you go? To class?”

  “No, I take her to a licensed day care right next to campus. Does Dylan know CPR?”

  I laugh inwardly. “Yeah, actually he does.”

  Silence.

  “Oh,” she finally answers.

  “Ellie, relax. Dylan’s a good guy, and I trust him. Lia was perfectly safe.”

  I hear the muffled noise as she heaves a sigh into the receiver. She seems to do this often. Then she clears her throat. “You had a meeting, huh? At the hospital?”

  I grin. This is kind of cute, her wanting to know. It’s also kind of cute that I know she knows I didn’t have a meeting.

  I stand up and move out of Lia’s earshot. “I went to the cemetery. Like I do every Wednesday.”

  “You still go there?”

  I let the question hang for a second, not sure I want to answer. “I have stuff I need to make up for.”

  She doesn’t answer right away. “Nowhere else?” Her voice cracks a little as she says it, and I have the sudden urge to hold her in my arms.

  “No, Elle. Just there.”

  “Good. Um, I guess I’ll call again tomorrow. Goodb—”

  “Stop,” I interrupt her, and I hope like hell she won’t hang up. “How are you?”

  Silence assaults my ear. I’m about to give up because I assume she hung up already and I missed my chance.

  “Everything’s great,” she answers.

  I’m not sure I believe her. There’s doubt in her voice. Doubt I’ve heard a million times and recognize, apparently, from halfway across the globe. After Liam died, everything she said sounded like she does now.

  “You tagging a bunch of sharks?” I ask. I want to keep her talking, even if it’s only for another minute.

  She laughs. “I did a hammerhead by myself yesterday.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “Yeah, it was a small one, but it was so awesome.”

  “I’m proud of you, Elle.” Even though the words slipped out, I mean them. She’s been through the same shit I have and look at her. She’s pushed through.

  “Thank you. Um, I’d better go. I have fifteen minutes before the boat leaves without me.”

  “Okay. Talk to you tomorrow,” I say. Then I cringe at what comes next.

  “Sure. Good bye, Damian.”

  A lump I didn’t count on forms in my throat. I can’t get rid of it. “Bye, Elle,” I say, but the line is already dead.

  I toss the phone on my bed and clench my jaw. Lia peers up me, and all I can see is Ellie in her expression.

  “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

  I force a smile so she won’t worry. “Nothing,” I say.

  Because I don’t know the answer myself.

  Chapter 15

  Ellie

  I love being out on the boat, the wind sweeping through my hair, the idea of millions upon millions of creatures beneath us in a vast, under-researched ecosystem. The ocean, bigger and more powerful than any of us can imagine, around us.

  But—

  I’m distracted.

  My head is not in the game today. I can’t breathe.

  Since I hung up with Damian this morning, I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind. My emotions are all over the place, teetering between relief, jealousy, pain, pride, and wanting to ditch this project and Blake, fly back to Iowa, tell Damian how I feel about him, and hope for the best.

  I’m lame. So incredibly lame.

  Here I am in this beautiful place. I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. With this amazing man. And all I think about is Damian.

  What is wrong with this picture?

  I run through the list of reasons why I should give Damian up. It’s a mile long, and one by one, I tick them off.

  Our similarities are on another list. One I keep locked away in the darkest of corners of my mind. There’s no reason to review it because it’s so much shorter than this one.

  The negatives far outweigh anything on the positives list.

  I reach for a box of vials and knock over a test tube filled with blood I collected from a reef shark. The tube hits the floor and shatters. Glass shards litter the floor under my feet.

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  Blake, who’s working at the station beside me, rushes over. “It’s okay, baby. You collected two, right?”

  I grab a cloth and the bottle of bleach water from under the sink in the corner of the lab.

  “Yeah, I did,” I say, bending down and spraying the blood.

  I scrub hard, bits of hair spilling out of the knot I secured on top of my head. I hate that I can’t tame my emotions enough to curb stupid mistakes.

  Blake’s hand rests on my arm. “Hey, let me get this.”

  I lean back on my knees and wipe the hair from my face with my forearm.

  Again, I think about the difference between Blake and Damian. When I packed up my life and moved to Florida, Damian did nothing. Not even a phone call.

  But Blake? Blake’s with me in Australia.

  This should be the world’s easiest decision. So why isn’t it?

  Why do I continue to hang on to a man who will never reciprocate my love?

  This is ridiculous. Even more so that I promised Blake I’d give us a shot.

  I need to get my head back where it belongs—on Blake’s chest as we cuddle up together.

  “Hey, Blake?” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “We’ve gone out every night this week. Let’s stay in and rent a movie tonight, instead,” I say.

  Blake’s gaze floats over me. “You thinking chick-flick or something decent? ’Cause if we’re doing chick-flick, I’m bringing Indian food.”

  Did he seriously say that?

  My eyes meet his, and yep. He’s totally serious. Until a sexy lopsided grin appears on his face. I puff out a laugh, shaking my head at his amusement.

  A hand brushes over my cheek, his coffee-colored irises softening. “There’s that smile I’ve been dying to see all day.”

  Heat rushes to my face, and I bow my head to hide the blush threatening to give me away. “Sorry. I…” I trail off because I’m not mentioning the real reasons behind my distraction today.

  “Thinking about Lia?” he finishes for me, and I nod, even though it’s only partially true.

  Okay, so it’s mostly untrue. I talk with my Lia-Kat every day, and from her voice she’s perfectly happy with Damian. If she weren’t, I’d be dead from anxiety. And Damian probably would be too. She may only be three, but she has the vocal cords of fighting raccoons when she’s upset. They’re lethal.

  I jump to the most believable story I can think of, and I sound like a broken record. “I’ve never gone this long without seeing her.”

  “You talked with her this morning, right?” he asks, his hand cupping my chin.

  “Yeah, she’s good. S
he really is. I’m”—I breathe out a nervous laugh—“being a pathetic, worry-freak mom.”

  “Elizabeth, you are a great mother. You’re entitled to worry about her. But she’s fine, and she’s safe. And you’re here, so be here.” His thumb glides over my chin, and with a gentle tug, he eases me toward him. Forms his lips over mine for a few seconds then lets go.

  I inhale and open my eyelids in slow motion. Blake’s there, caressing my cheek. Grinning at me like I’m special.

  Trapped in his stare, I forget about Damian. And I do what Blake asks.

  I’m simply here.

  ~*~

  “So, what are you in the mood for tonight?” Sprawled out on my bed, Blake flips through the Pay-Per-View options while I throw away the little cardboard boxes from our Chinese take-out. “We have…ugh. Chick-flick city.”

  “Is it just me or have movie titles gotten less creative? I mean, Chick-Flick City sounds so obvious.” I pour myself a glass of wine and pop the top off a Four X Australian beer for Blake.

  Blake shrugs, not missing a beat. “It’s probably a crappy Sex in the City remake. Without the sex.”

  “And with little yellow birds waddling around,” I joke.

  Blake snorts out a laugh. It’s an embarrassed laugh though, as he covers his face with a palm. “The first pun was decent, but I can’t let that one slide, babe. That was horrible.”

  I hand him the beer, which he immediately sets on the nightstand next to him. My glass is in my hand, and I attempt to gracefully climb onto the mattress. Blake’s eyes teeter back and forth between me and the wine sloshing around, sliding close to the rim.

  “You can put that down, you know,” he says.

  He’s lying on the bed on his side, his head propped up on a hand. Dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt, Blake resembles a Calvin Klein model with clothing on. The five o’clock shadow that pokes out perfectly from his tanned skin makes me shiver. He definitely rivals Damian in the looks department.

  Stop it, I scold myself. I’m done comparing the two of them. I’ve made my choice, and I’m not going back.