Page 97 of Damon
“It’s been worth it,” he replies, his voice soft. He hasn’t been in the house since he arrived. Even after his doorstep display a few weeks ago, I pushed back, though my walls began to crumble. It was hard to keep them standing at all as the man I loved with all my heart begged for another chance.
“Why?” I bite my lip while widening my eyes, inviting him to provide more information. His continued presence here, his help around the garden, and my time with Annie have surprised me. A little of me has begun to hope we can sort this out, somehow.
“Because you’re speaking to me.” I laugh out loud, and he scowls. “And Annie has her mother back.” The statement is like a bolt to my chest.
“Pardon?” I stammer, and he sits straighter in his chair.
“You heard me. You are her mother whether that was the original plan or not. It would have been different if things hadn’t turned out as they did, but there’s no doubt who she sees when she looks at you.”
“Don’t make me a promise you don’t intend to keep,” I whisper, then raise both hands to my eyes to wipe away tears. “I love her so much.” My focus moves to Annie, sitting between us playing with a bucket and shovel.
“I have every intention of keeping my promise,” he says simply. “We love you, both of us do. And yes, I would love to come to supper.”
That evening, Damon and Annie arrive on my doorstep, exactly at seven o’clock as I requested. He is dressed smart in a pure white, short-sleeved shirt and dark jeans; his hair is slightly longer than usual and sits messy on his head. Annie wears a little pink dress with white sandals. She holds her father’s hand as I open the door. I pull it wide, and they walk in past me into the small living room I’ve been calling home.
My dining table is set for three, Annie’s booster chair at the top with an adult one on each side. A single candle burns at the center, and the silver cutlery glints under the soft light. Already laid out is a basket of bread. I gesture for us all to go over to take a seat. Once my guests are settled, I pass Damon a beer and his daughter a sippy cup of juice.
“You look beautiful,” he says, his intense green eyes holding mine for a beat. I glance in the mirror at the soft blue summer dress I’m wearing. It has a sweetheart neckline with the hem finishing just above my knee. I readjust the fabric to ensure my breasts are fully covered. My hair sits in waves down my back, in contrast to the smooth material.
“Thank you,” I reply, my cheeks heating slightly with the compliment.
This night has been coming for the last two weeks. After he laid his feelings on the line, the tension between us began to ebb. We started spending a little time together outside with Annie. At first, the conversation was stilted and difficult, but then things began to morph back to the way they once were when we would laugh and joke together. With me needing to return to London next week, it felt like now I had to make a final decision on what our future would look like. Would our sole connection be Annie, or would we connect once again with each other?
“It’s true, you look stunning tonight, Emma.”
I disappear into the kitchen to finish the simple homecooked meal I’ve created, the lasagna and garlic bread he loves. Taking a moment, I stand at the sink, looking out to the garden. My heart is desperate to try, to allow us to have a future, but my head is still unsure. After collecting the dish from the oven, I set a meal on each plate then carry them through, placing the small plastic bowl with mashed up lasagna in front of Annie first, followed by her father’s plate. I then return to the kitchen to collect my own.
When I step back into the dining space, Damon is filling each of our glasses with the chilled white wine he brought with him. He smiles softly, causing my stomach to flip, then sits back down. We all take our places around the table to eat our meal. The atmosphere is relaxed—however, there is an undeniable undercurrent of tension in the air. Annie stuffs her dinner into her mouth and chews happily, her eyes moving between her father and me.
“She loves this,” he says, looking directly at me. “All of us together, doing simple things. I love it too.”
“Me too,” I whisper, and his features relax as his large body drops slightly. “I’ve missed you.” He reaches across and links big warm fingers through mine.
“Well, I’m here now, and I want to make you so damn happy, Spitfire.” He raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Am I going to get into trouble for calling you that?”
“No,” I relent. “I love it when you call me that.”
“Good, because I never plan on stopping.” His eyes move to his daughter. “Shall we put her to bed so we can…catch up?” My pussy clenches with the sexual innuendo in his words.
“Okay, is it not too early though?” I question. He lets go of my fingers, then stands and walks around to crouch down beside my chair. His hand lifts to my cheek, and he rubs his thumb across my skin.
“It’s never too early if it means I get to have some time with you myself. Tonight feels special. It’s day one of our new beginning.”
“Second attempt,” I mutter, and he narrows his eyes but pecks my lips. Annie chortles beside us. He turns his attention to her.
“Am I doing okay?” he asks her. “Do you think your Ma-ma will come home with us?” His eyes come back to mine. “Your home is with us, not in a one-bedroom apartment somewhere in the city by yourself. Please come home.”
My focus moves between the two people I love most in this world, my heart aching to be with them, always. These past weeks, Damon has done everything I ever dreamed he would. He came for me, made his intentions clear, but never forced me to comply with what he wanted. It has always been my choice. I know if I had asked him to leave, he would have. But I never wanted him to—I desired both him and his daughter to be with me as my family.
“Yes,” I tell him. “I’ll move back in.”
He jumps to his feet, pulling me up with him and gathering my body in strong arms. When I blink up, his lips lock onto mine, and he kisses me, deep with every emotion swirling between us. The lost weeks and months between us disappearing by the second.
“Thank you,” he whispers against my lips. “Thank you, Spitfire, for making me whole again.”
“Ma-ma,” Annie says beside us, and we both look in her direction.
“That’s right, my beautiful girl, this is your Ma-ma,” Damon agrees. “And we are both so lucky to have her in our lives.”