Page 12 of Damon
As he sits the freshly made mug of coffee on the counter, I climb up onto the chair beside where he was sitting. A newspaper is laid out on the marble worktop. It’s open to property listings in London; a few are circled with black pen. He moves around the counter and comes to sit beside me.
“I was thinking we could go and view a few of these this week.” He points to the first ad. “This one is only a five-minute walk from your office. It’s got two bedrooms and a secure entrance.”
Two-bedroom apartment located in Canary Wharf.
Two bathrooms.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
Residents’ roof terrace and gym.
Twenty-four-hour concierge service.
£4,500.00 per calendar month.
“Four and a half thousand pounds per month,” I sputter. “I can’t afford that.”
“You don’t need to,” he says. “I’m paying.”
“For six months, but after…” He waves his hand at me. “And that is a lot of money for you to spend. I know you have a good job, but that’s an insane number.”
“Don’t worry about the money. I can afford it.”
“How?” He glares at me for questioning him. “I’m sorry, Damon, but you’re a policeman. Do you have a secret job I don’t know about?”
“It’s none of your business,” he states, his tone offering no room for debate. “There are things you are best off not being aware of. I want to know you are living somewhere decent after leaving here, somewhere safe. This is near the office, and Waite lives just around the corner. It’s perfect.” As I prepare my tongue to argue, he says, “We’re viewing it tomorrow.”
“Do I not get a say in this?”
“You can pick the color of the curtains.”
“Controlling asshole,” I say petulantly. “I won’t be your responsibility.” His expression darkens as his eyebrows draw together annoyed.
“Emma, you will be my responsibility until I say otherwise. Contract or not, you are having this child for me. I promised to look after you and set you up the best I can for life beyond this pregnancy. Whether that takes six months, one year, or ten, I will fulfill my obligation. It’s what Connie would have wanted.”
“I’m an obligation now?”
“You always have been,” he answers bluntly. It stings. “These past weeks I’ve been so wrapped up in my own grief, I’ve been letting everyone down. That changes from today. You will be cared for as you should be, and I will prepare myself to become a single father the best I can.”
I sip my drink as I listen to him detailing how the next months will play out. He walks me through a step-by-step plan of his responsibilities to me and mine to him. According to Damon, I’m to eat healthily, exercise, and focus on my studies. The rest is up to him.
“What if I don’t want to move out?” I question, and he stills.
“Why would you not?”
“You’ll need help with the baby. Who better than the person who grew her? Our routine works. Nothing needs to change after the birth.” I try to keep my words relaxed, shrugging when he looks in my direction. “You’ll need a nanny. I could be that person.”
“What about your job? Your career?”
“Most of my classes are online, and even more so moving forward. Harrison has said he’s happy to continue one day of work experience a week until I complete my degree. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement to suit us all.”
“No.” His eyes narrow as he focuses on me. “It’s not an option. That’s not what the contract was about.”
“You just implied the contract is flexible. It can be changed until you meet your obligations.” He bristles at my comment. Damon doesn’t like to be challenged. “I want to stay here.”
“No,” he snaps. “We are going to view apartments and create a plan for you to move on after this baby is born. I won’t have you hanging around my home, stuck because you think I need your help. I don’t. We don’t.” He gestures to my belly. “This baby is mine and Connie’s. Not yours.”
“I’ll be the baby’s legal parent,” I mutter, and immediately regret it.