Page 42 of Lumi
CHAPTER 8
The Best Part
Lumi
A sunbeam woke me. I squinted one eye open and tried to move, but it was difficult with Damian having one leg and arm over me.
Closing my eyes again, I took a moment to feel the heat from his large body behind me and the rhythm of his breathing.
With the way he was spooning me, I could feel his chest fall and rise against my back. I thought about the arguments I’d had with Spencer and other men I’d dated who couldn’t understand why I didn’t like to spoon.
Why was everything so different with Damian, and how was it possible that the very man who had made me allergic to spooning with other men still had the power to make me relax in his arms?
I slowed my breathing to match Damian’s and indulged in memories of making love to him on the night he turned thirty years old.
My eyes were closed, but tears still prickled as I thought about how perfect it had been and how safe I’d felt with him.
But like so many times, the sweet memories of making love to Damian were followed by the gut-wrenching memories of the painful rejection that followed.
An acute need for personal space made me push at Damian’s leg and arm and roll away from him to get the key.
He groaned when I pulled his arm. “What are ye doin’?”
“I can’t reach the damn key.”
Damian moved enough that I could reach the key and yawned as I unlocked it and ran to the bathroom.
“Well, good mornin’ to ye too.”
I slammed the door harder than intended and locked it before turning on the water. With my emotions all over the place, I felt like screaming.
It was as if Damian’s spooning me had opened an inner pocket of old unresolved feelings, and now suppressed pain and anger that I thought I’d moved past was leaking out like pus from an infected wound.
It would be ridiculous to walk in and confront him about how poorly he’d handled a situation almost nine years ago. I had to grow up and get over him once and for all.
Standing in front of the mirror, I stared at my reflection. I wasn’t the twenty-year-old who had been sick with love for Damian. So why did I feel her pain so strongly? I had forgiven him long ago. Hadn’t I?
I took off my t-shirt and underwear and stepped into the shower.
Maybe this is a good thing? Perhaps the pain I’m feeling will help me love Damian less.
As I washed my hair, I reminded myself that I was turning twenty-nine in three days, and the whole purpose of doing this stupid experiment was to bury my romantic feelings for Damian.
Atlas is right. If it were supposed to happen, it would have happened already.
When I came out of the shower, I was quiet and only answered Damian in short, curt responses.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when we ate breakfast. “Is the experiment getting’ to ye?”
“Yes.”
“Am I annoyin’ ye?”
“Yes.” I kept my eyes on the news that I was reading on my phone.
“We need to record a discussion.”
“Fine.”
