Page 52 of Just The Way You Aren't

"Oh yes, of course." She looks momentarily confused, then brightens. "You don’t want to be late for the Alzheimer's benefit tonight. Will you come visit again soon, Willow?"

"I hope so," I reply, and I mean it with all my heart. Damien’s mother is a delight, and I hope he’ll take the time to be with her as much as possible before her condition worsens.

She rises gracefully to see us out, and I'm struck by how regal she remains despite everything. At the doorway to the blue room, she steps forward and draws me into a warm embrace.

"He's never looked at anyone the way he looks at you," she whispers into my ear. "Not even that dreadful banking heiress."

I blush, not daring to glance at Damien. "It was wonderful to meet you, Marianne."

"You as well, dear." She turns to her son. "Your father willbe so disappointed to have missed you today. Please, come home again soon."

He nods. "I'll call you tomorrow," he promises, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

We make our way back through the elegant house, down to the underground garage. Neither of us speaks until we're in the car, the engine humming quietly around us.

Damien stares straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel though we haven't moved.

"I should have warned you," he says finally, his voice tight. "About my mother. About her... condition. I should have explained before bringing you here. It wasn't fair to put you in that awkward position."

I turn to face him. "Damien, look at me."

He does, reluctantly, his blue eyes guarded.

"There was nothing awkward about meeting your mother. She's lovely."

"She's losing her mind," he says bluntly. "She doesn't remember that my father died five years ago. She gets confused about where she is, who people are. Some days are better than others, but..." He exhales sharply. "I hate seeing her like this."

"I understand," I say softly. "And I'm glad you brought me today. I'm glad I got to meet her."

He searches my face, as if looking for pity or discomfort. "Most people don't know how to act around her when she gets confused. They get uncomfortable, try to correct her. It just upsets her more."

"I work with seniors every day, Damien. I've seen dementia before." I reach over and take his hand again. "What I haven't seen is someone care for their parent the way youobviously care for your mom. That speaks volumes about the kind of man you are."

Something shifts in his expression—a vulnerability I've never seen before.

"Most of the time I feel like I'm failing her," he admits. "I should visit more, but it's..." He trails off, shaking his head.

"Hard," I finish for him. "It's hard to watch someone you love slip away. It’s hard to be forgotten by someone who's known you your whole life."

He nods, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Yes."

"You're not failing her," I tell him firmly. "And you're not alone in this, Damien. Not if you don't want to be."

For a long moment, he just looks at me, and I feel something profound pass between us—an understanding deeper than words, more significant than our night together, when the only thing between us was naked skin. In this moment, we see each other clearly, without pretense or defense.

Then he clears his throat and turns the key in the ignition. "We should get to The Plaza."

"Yes," I agree, settling back in my seat. "We should."

But as we pull out of the garage and back onto the street, his hand finds mine again across the console. And neither of us lets go for a long time.

CHAPTER 18

DAMIEN

Ican't concentrate on the spreadsheets in front of me. My mind keeps drifting back to yesterday, to tea at my parents’ house, to Willow's face as she realized what was happening with my mother's memory.

I've spent years keeping my mother's condition contained within the family. It wasn't just about protecting her dignity, though that was certainly part of it. It was about maintaining control, keeping my worlds separate. Business is business. Personal is personal. My entire life operates on those boundaries.

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