Page 63 of Damon
“Did we what?”
“Did you sort out your differences?” I laugh out loud. “Did that kiss in the hospital develop into something more active?”
“Are you asking if we had sex, Waite?”
“Yeah, but I was trying to be diplomatic.”
“That is none of your business,” I tell him. “But she’s at home in her bed asleep, so take from my knowledge of that what you will.”
“I’m happy for you,” he says, leaning forward and bumping my shoulder. His hand moves to Annie’s chin, and he tickles gently. “And you, Annie Dannie. You both deserve someone special to care for, and who will care for you. You all look good together.” His eyes lock on mine, shrewd, honest, and intelligent as always. “I thought you were going to fuck it up.”
“I’m not sure what it is yet.” He cocks his head to one side, and his eyes narrow. “Connie has only been gone a year. Perhaps it’s too soon. And Emma is so much younger, and given the little I know of her past, she’s potentially vulnerable. I don’t want her staying with me because she sees me as a safe bet.”
“Emma is smart,” he says bluntly. “She’s sensitive, but she doesn’t take any shit. Whatever has happened in her past has happened. She’s here, Damon, and she cares. You all deserve this second chance.”
“That’s the issue.”
“You’ve lost me,” he replies with a sigh and sits back on his stool.
“Emma is my second chance.” I emphasize the word my. “But she has never had her first chance with someone else.” I wave the hand holding the bottle of beer in a circle then drink. “She deserves to be someone’s first choice. This would never have happened if…you don’t need me to say it.”
“No, I don’t,” he says, clearly peeved by what I have said. “So, in your mind due to the horrendous events of last year, you shouldn’t pursue a woman unless she’s on option two as well? You do realize what a self-obsessed idiot you sound like.”
I bristle, annoyed by his comment.
“This isn’t all about you, Damon. It’s about Emma and what she wants too. And it’s fucking obvious it’s you and this little one. Can you not just be grateful? She’s here and wants you even though you’re a grumpy bastard. Nothing needs to happen quickly; you’re not asking her to marry you.”
“But…”
My usually calm friend stands and walks off around his living space. He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. I watch him, unsettled by this side of him I’m not used to. After a few minutes, he turns back to face me.
“Are you so obtuse that you don’t see how lucky you are?”
“My wife died,” I snap. “My daughter’s mother. I wouldn’t call that lucky.”
“Don’t be a fuckwit. That’s not what I’m talking about.” He straightens his shoulders as if in a courtroom and ready to argue. “You found love with the girl next door. You had that for twenty years. What happened to Connie was tragic, but you know that of all people, she would want you to live. And here we are one year later, and you’ve found someone who clearly loves you. Wake up and smell the fucking coffee.” He lifts one hand, closes his eyes, and pinches his nose. “Spare a thought for us poor bastards who can never have who we want.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, feeling scolded and like a selfish ass. “It’ll happen, you’ll find her.”
“I know who she is,” he says. “And whatever happens, we can never be together. That has never and will never change. Anyway, there’s a little business we need to discuss rather than my failed love life. We need more beer.” He walks over to the fridge, picks out two more bottles, and passes one to me before sitting back down.
“I’m driving.”
“Leave the car, I’ll get Matthew to drive you home.” He lifts his bottle, and I mirror his actions. We clink the necks together. “Luke has some information on the current case. There’s a small launderette which is moving further up the debt list. The family owes the gang he’s been assigned to money; they’ve been given twenty-fours to pay, or they’ll be getting paid a visit.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we should also be there,” he says, focused on me. “So we can intervene, and perhaps collect some information or an informant higher up the chain. It would be good to ruffle feathers and apply pressure.”
“When is this due to take place?”
“If they don’t pay, which it’s unlikely they will, the debt is fifty thousand and increasing by the hour. Tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good,” he replies with a smile. “Now, drink up and take your daughter home.”
***