Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
He doubts we will see that storm in his eyes to the other side, and he has reason. We’ve always fallen apart.
Chapter thirty-four
“It’s barely the size of a small closet,” Damion grumbles as we enter my bathroom. “There’s nowhere to even sit you down but the damn toilet.” He eases me to the ground. “Damn it, Alana.”
Embarrassment is perpetual this evening, it seems, as my feet are on the ground but I’m unstable, offering him my back as I grab tissue and tug my skirt down. By the time I’ve turned around, he’s righted his pants, and his attention is fixated on my basic ceramic sink with exposed pipes beneath, before sweeping the remainder of the small space. I’m instantly transported back in time, feeling like the little girl next door whose family lived above their means again, and I start to justify, which translates to I start to ramble. “It’s small,” I say, “but my closet is big, and it’s not a cheap place. This is New York City, and you know—”
“You don’t even have a tub,” he says, motioning toward the spot where one would be if there was the space, but, of course, there’s not. His gaze sharpens on mine. “You love your baths.”
I’m fairly certain that anyone who doesn’t know Damion as I know him would be stunned at this big, dominant, often hard man, worrying over my baths, or lack thereof. It’s somehow odd and right at the same time, and for reasons I can’t explain, I feel oh, so naked with him right now, far more so than when my skirt was at my waist. Maybe it’s the talk of marriage that we’ve dared tiptoe yet again, or simply the exposé that could be written on my family drama just this night alone.
He’s overwhelmingly present, and I’m overwhelmingly off-kilter. I need out of this tiny room, as he’s pointed out, where we might feel slightly less combustible, at least to me. I attempt to walk past him, but he isn’t having it. He catches my waist and steps into me, his possessive touch scorching me inside and out.
“Damn it, woman,” he murmurs yet again, his tone husky and rough, and he doesn’t have to say more. He’s worried about my situation. That’s what he’s telling me. He’s worried about me. “I stayed away far too long.”
I shove at his unmovable chest. “That entire statement is about you saving me, Damion, and I don’t need to be saved.”
“It’s about being with you, Alana.”
“This bathroom and my life,” I say, my spine stiff with the reality of my words, “they’re both about my decisions, not yours.” My fingers curl on the silk of his shirt. “I have to own them.”
“Just as I made my decisions that I have to own as well, Alana, but I can’t help but think we would have made better ones together.”
My shoulders soften, and the breath that I didn’t know was lodged in my throat gushes out, and for some silly reason, my eyes pinch. “Yes. I think so, but you’re here now, and I’m moving in with you, remember?”
“Are you? Because you threatened to call that off.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m just worried about my family taking advantage of you. I don’t want my dirty laundry becoming yours. And with me in the spotlight now, that could happen in so many ways.”
“Your family is not you. You’ll get ratings with a scandal. They’ll just get scandal.”
“I’m talking about you, Damion.”
“Sticks and stones, baby, as you used to say to me when we were kids. The only thing that will break me is losing you again. And as for dirty laundry, as if mine hasn’t haunted you your entire life.” His expression softens. “Adam told me that you told your mother you’d do anything to protect me.”
“Adam has a big mouth, but yes. I did. And I meant it. I will. Always. I need you to know that, Damion.”
“You’re the only person in my life that I don’t pay that I believe has my back. And I have yours.”
“I know that, too,” I say, swallowing against the dryness in my throat while worry works a number on my heart. “I’m sure Adam told you, but my mom wanted me to come over tonight. She said she and my father had a huge fight. She said it was about his gambling, but I suspect it was about your father.”
“Why didn’t you go over? Walker would have taken you.”
“Because I know you’re right about how I’ve handled them. I need to end this vicious cycle of enabling them. I’m just not sure how. And truth be told, I was really—correction, I am—really angry with her over that junk with your father today, but I didn’t say anything. I was afraid my attention on the matter would just get back to your father and offer him satisfaction.”