Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
But I don’t believe it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Danielle
I’m standing on the other side of the garden, speaking to Lacey about the latest paper she’s publishing. That’s why I can’t be mad at her for not knowing I was working with Damien. And with Dad so busy at the hospital, it’s not a surprise he didn’t tell her.
But it’s more than that.
Ever since Damien and I started our soul-searing texting, I’ve purposefully avoided mentioning him to Lacey and Dad as much as possible.
They might be able to see how badly I ache for him.
One of Lacey’s friends, Jennifer, approaches. She’s tall and sophisticated, truly beautiful. She worked as a model in her twenties and hasn’t lost any of that poise in her late thirties.
“Madams,” she says, with her usual sarcastic tone.
“Hey,” Lacey says.
“Have we been feasting on the man meat?”
Lacey laughs. “Come again?”
“The. Man. Meat.”
Jennifer points her perfectly manicured finger toward somebody in the garden, but I don’t even have to turn to know who she’s pointing at.
Damien stands on the patio, talking with Dad and a couple of other guys.
My body screams at me to cave in to my needs.
He looks so handsome in his shirt, the sleeves rolled up, displaying his taut forearms. His silver hair is neat, making me want to run my hand through it. And more.
All the stuff we talked about in the texting.
I look at Jennifer, silently willing her to shut up.
“Are you on the prowl?” Mom says, shaking her head.
“Maybe I am,” Jennifer says, and I want the world to swallow me. “Would I have much of a chance with him? He’s so scrumptious.”
My hands squeeze into fists. It’s a reflex, and it’s freaking terrible timing because I happen to be holding a plastic cup of soda.
It crumples loudly, and the liquid spills over my hand and drops down my arm.
I curse as Jennifer laughs, drawing the gazes of the people around us.
From across the garden, Damien stares. I’m sure I see something in his eyes, that same protective instinct he hints about during our texts. But he only ever means in the bedroom.
He doesn’t want to protect me anywhere else.
“Careful,” Jennifer says, laughing again. “She’s on a rampage.”
Lacey throws Jennifer a look, and Jennifer mimes, zipping her mouth shut.
“Are you okay?” Lacey asks me.
“I’m fine.”
“Here you go.” Mom reaches toward the buffet table and hands me some napkins.
“Thanks.”
I want to go and wash my hands. But at the same time, an army wouldn’t be able to get me to move from this spot. Even if I hate it, I need to know what Jennifer’s going to say.
“So?” she says after a pause.
“So what?”
Jennifer huffs, lowering her voice. “D-A-M-I-E-N.”
“I think you got that wrong.” Lacey smiles. “And honestly, I’m not sure. Damien isn’t the type for casual flings. At least from what Max says and from what I’ve seen.”
“Did he have a serious girlfriend in England?”
“Not that I know of.”
“And he would’ve told Max,” Jennifer mutters, sounding like a detective piecing together clues. “So he doesn’t have girlfriends, and he doesn’t like casual stuff. Maybe he doesn’t like women?”
I go to the table within earshot and pour myself another cup of soda. This is just getting to be too freaking much. My body is alight from Jennifer’s words.
He doesn’t like just any women. Only me.
I want to scream that at her.
“He does,” Lacey says.
“So he has had girlfriends?”
I return to our little circle, hoping they can’t tell how hungrily I’m listening to all this. Any morsel about Damien’s romantic life feels so valuable to me.
“When he was a teenager and a couple in his early twenties. But he always seemed more focused on work.”
“Hmm.” Jennifer strokes a hand down her dyed blonde hair, bright and styled to perfection. “Perhaps I can be the one to crack this most curious egg. Care to take bets, ladies?”
I swallow a big mouthful of bile. I mean, really I don’t. I don’t vomit and then swallow it right back down.
But that’s how it feels.
Lacey looks at me, smiling mischievously, with no clue how wrong this feels to me.
“What do you think?”
I laugh. “I don’t know.”
“I’m done waiting.” Jennifer turns away. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Lacey says, but I can only bring myself to mime the words.
“She’s a little cuckoo, isn’t she? What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I repeat. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Luckily Lacey’s not looking at me. I manage to make my voice sound positive enough, but I can’t force my face to change shape. I wish I was closer, so I could hear what they were going to say.
Jennifer walks confidently across the yard.
Damien’s standing by himself now, at the other edge of the long buffet table, loading stuff onto a paper plate. He’s staring down as though he doesn’t want to look at anything else.
At anybody else. At me.