Page 47 of Dirty Little Secrets
Damon stays silent, but my skin coats with goosebumps as he stares at Quin.
“You were engaged?” I ask, frowning. It doesn’t add up. Everything about Quin screams lifelong bachelor.
“Yes, I was,” he says, a hint of sadness in his tone. He clears his throat. “That is until I found Alison in my bedroom with Damon’s cock inside her mouth.” My eyes widen, but I don’t have time to react as two servers approach our table with our meals. “Lovely. Right on time.”
“Thank you,” I mutter to the server who places a plate of ratatouille in front of me.
Despite the delicious smell, my hunger vanishes. I sneak a glance at Damon, his posture guarded andstrained. Veins protrude on his hands as he grips his fork, digging into the foie gras. I open my mouth but no words come out. Shock seizes my own muscles, and I struggle to pick up my fork. Quin savors his food with ease as if he didn’t drop an infidelity-sized bomb on our table.
“How’s your meal?” Quin asks Darla who slices her chicken breast with the side of her fork. She pops it in her mouth, giving Quin a satisfied smile. He chuckles. “Good.” He glances at me. “Emery? Is everything okay? You’ve barely touched your food.”
I swallow. “I’m not very hungry right now.”
“Why not? It’s important to eat.” Quin purses his lips in feigned thought. “Most people are famished after an orgasm.” My jaw drops as Damon grunts under his breath. Quin’s lips curl into a smirk. “Unless Cavanaugh didn’t let you finish.” His antagonistic gaze bounces to Damon. “That wasn’t very nice of you, was it?”
He noticed. He knew what we were doing.
Damon stands up abruptly, tossing his napkin on his plate. “We’re leaving.”
Quin rolls his eyes. “Always so dramatic, Cavanaugh.” He sighs. “When did you get so sensitive?” He gives me a playful smile. “Are you also offended, little Emery?”
Offended? No. Embarrassed? Maybe. But mostly I’m curious as to why Quin played along the whole time. For my benefit? His? Surely it wasn’t for Damon’s.
“Don’t answer him,” Damon demands, grabbing myhand. I fumble standing up, but I don’t argue. I don’t protest. I know when to keep quiet. And right now? When Damon’s on the cusp of losing his shit? It’s time to keep quiet. “Let’s go.”
“Toodles!” Quin calls out, chuckling as Damon storms out of the restaurant, dragging me behind him. “We’ll have to do this again soon!”
The valet brings Damon’s car around, and we drive silently for fifteen agonizing minutes. I keep my attention on the road, not bothering to start a conversation. A part of me doesn’t get it. He’s a man that has it all. Wealth, charm, confidence. And yet, around Quinton, his curated image glitches. Given what I’ve seen, Quinton was correct. Damonissensitive. I wonder if he’s always been like this, or if it’s a manifestation of trauma and pain.
“I know what you must be thinking,” Damon says in a rough tone, finally cutting through the charged air in the vehicle. “But it’s complicated.” I keep my mouth shut, facing him as he sighs. “I was… I was with Alison before?—”
I frown. “Do you think I’m judging you for fucking his fiancée?”
Damon looks over at me briefly. “Aren’t you?”
I tilt my head. “Am I really in a position to judge your actions? Anyone’s actions? This might come as a shock to you, Mr. Cavanaugh, but I don’t care about your past. I only care if that past ends up affecting the present.” I pause. “Does it? Does it affect the present?”
Damon swallows. “Alison is no longer a part of my life. She hasn’t been for years.”
“What was she to you?” I ask bluntly, the question burning my tongue as it leaves. It doesn’t matter. Itshouldn’tmatter. I hate myself for asking, and it’s not me that’s curious, that’s dying to know just how meaningful this woman was to him, it’s my heart. This stupid fucking heart that won’t stop battering against my ribcage in anticipation for his response.
“She was…” Damon glances over at me, soft and fragile as he skims my face. Unease tugs at my stomach. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. “She was everything.” Pain flashes across his face. “Until she was nothing.” His jaw clenches. “I lost her, Emery, and I… I refuse to lose you.”
His raw emotion pricks at a foreign part of my heart, and I can’t tell whether I'm pleased or disappointed at his confession. “I think we need to clarify something,” I whisper, realizing that I am indeed a surrogate for a failed attempt at happiness. “I amnotAlison?—”
“I know that,” he snaps, but I cut him off.
“Let me finish.” I hold my hand up. “I am not Alison. I don’t want you to look at me and see her. I’m not her replacement. I’m not her substitute. Whatever kind of relationship you had with her, do not expect that of me.” Damon opens his mouth, but I can’t let him interrupt me. I need to draw a line, a line that’ll serve as my last source of defense against his potential destructive powers. “I want you, Damon, I do. But do not mistake my attraction for affection. If that’s the kind of relationship you’re looking for, then you'll be greatly disappointed.”
“I understand,” he says with a solemn nod. “And that’s okay. For now, it is okay.” He reaches over the middle console, taking my hand in his. “I will take whatever you can give me.”
What he doesn’t know is that Iamgiving him everything I can. He thinks my well is deep and rich and lush with love and loyalty and devotion. But it’s not. It’s never been. In order for the water to reach the rim, the well must be filled, replenished, and maintained. My well’s been dry my whole life. Only recently, have I noticed enough water to be able to take a sip. If I drink too fast, it’ll be empty again. And that would be devastating.
“As for thiscontract,” I add, glancing down at our clasped hands that somehow fit together so seamlessly. “I’ll review it this weekend. I can’t promise you I’ll sign, but I’ll review it.”
He gives me a weak smile. “That’s all I ask.”
For the rest of the drive back to the condo, I wonder what it feels like to care about something so much that it hurts when it’s gone.
