Chapter 37

Damon

The light mist that covered the golf course that next morning ushered in an odd peace that Damon needed more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. Bethany had come in from her date, or whatever she'd been doing, opened the card and left him on the couch. It was a clear sign that things were headed toward being over. It was too much to consider, so like he'd done his whole life, he boxed it up and tucked it away. Fuck it. All of it.

"So you think you guys going down to Florida next weekend will help some?" James Talling glanced up as he wiped off the tip of his putter.

"Absolutely." Damon nodded and glanced over to Patrick. "Pat's going down there, and some of our other hard-hitting staff. We'll wrap everything up and set up new procedures and processes. It will be a brand-new operation by the time we leave."

"And all in a weekend." Patrick chuckled and walked out to the fairway beside Damon as James moved up to take his turn. "We missed you last night. Ben thought you were going to join us."

"Yeah. Too much to do. I had to work for a few hours, and then I passed out. One too many bourbons, I guess." He crossed his arms over his chest and tried not to think about how good Bethany looked laying in the bed that morning, still sound asleep. The covers had pulled off of her as she lay on her side, and her tiny white panties left so much skin on display. It took every ounce of denying himself not to bend down, tug them to the side and eat her for breakfast. Any other morning and he would have.

"You all right?" Patrick's expression hardened a little as his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes, just a lot on my mind, but nothing I’m willing to discuss.” Damon nodded as James walked toward them.

"Of course, boss. Just know I'm here if you do."

"Thanks." Damon took the putter from James and smiled. "You're not going to win this one, my friend."

"The story of my life." He laughed as they passed. "The only success I have is Zarpeth, and it's started to crack at the seams too."

Damon turned at the older man's confession. Zarpeth crumbling was a serious situation, not just for the revenue, but because M&B was tied to the company's reputation as they were all of their audit clients.

"What do you mean?" Damon pressed the putter to the ground and gripped the top with both hands as he leaned forward and stretched.

"Hm?" James turned back to face Damon. "Oh, I'm just being a cynic. Everything is good outside of this inventory mess. I was referring to all the other shit in my life."

"Like?" Damon stood back up and swung a few times, feeling much better about James' explanation. There wasn't room for too many more shit storms in his life right then.

"Dana is filing for divorce next week." He shrugged. "I guess all these years of me working eighty-plus hours a week finally got to her."

"That sucks. I'm sorry to hear that, man." Damon moved toward his ball and hit it once. It sunk in the whole and James growled loudly.

"You get all the lucky balls, don't you?" He laughed as Damon lifted his eyebrow at him and walked toward the cart as Patrick moved to take his turn.

"I'm not sure lucky would be the word. My life is a bit of a mess right now too." He ran his fingers through his hair and stretched again.

"Can't be worse than mine." James slipped his hands into his pockets and let out a shaky breath.

"You love her?" Damon couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah, man. With all of my heart, but love isn't enough."

"No? I've always heard that if you had love, you had everything. Doesn't love heal all wounds and stop time or some crazy shit like that?" Damon forced a smirk though his heart ached deep in his chest.

"I wish." James glanced down toward his feet. "She's trying to take custody of our twin boys, and though I'd rather be skinned alive and dipped in acid than hurt her, I have to fight for them. She's going to take it as an attack, and I fucking hate that, but what else am I supposed to do?"

"How old are they?"

"Ten. They need me." He chuckled and glanced back up. "Fuck. I need them. I need her, but she won't hear me."

"Women are complex. Have you asked what the source of her hurts are?"

"Yeah, but I can't let go of the company."

"Sure you can. You've built it from the ground up. Hand it over to a well-qualified team of managers and go get your wife back."

"It's not that easy, but maybe you’re right. I'll think about how to do that. Even if this is it for Dana and me, I still owe the next woman in my life a better chance at a relationship than I gave my wife."

"Would you change it all if you could? Go back and fix the small cracks in the marriage?"

"Hell yeah. She's everything I wanted in a wife, a lover, a best friend." He pressed his teeth into his lip and shook his head before walking down the fairway toward the next hole.

" Is James all right?" Patrick walked over and got into the golf cart.

"Yeah, he will be." Damon dropped down into the driver's seat and tried to figure out if he still had a chance of fixing him and Bethany. She hadn't cheated on him. She wouldn't do that.

Neither would his mom have cheated on his dad. Not in a million years, but she did.

***

He walked into the office a few hours later to find the staff working fast to put out a third quarter fire for another client. He left them to it and walked to his office to find Bethany staring out the window.

"Hey, can you organize a dinner tonight? It looks like those guys in there aren't going to get a break anytime soon. We'll either bring something in or go somewhere."

"Yeah, I guess." She glanced over her shoulder. The sadness on her pretty face tore into him, but he'd made his apologies yesterday only to have her lie to him about her stomach and leave with someone. No way had she gone out by herself for two hours. He'd parked the car and gotten to the room in time to smell the remnant of her perfume that filled the place.

"Thanks." He walked to his desk and sat down, not bothering to ask why she was standing by the window while everyone else was busting ass. That wouldn't gain him any favors, though, after the night before, he wasn't sure he wanted any.

"Thank you for the card. It was sweet."

Sweet?

"Sure." He popped open his laptop and turned it on before glancing up to catch her watching him. "What's up, Beth?"

"Why does everything have to be a fight between us? What am I to you? Your girlfriend? Your associate?" She pressed her hands to her hips. "You're fucking secretary?"

"Because I asked you to organize a dinner?" He leaned back in his chair and forced his anger to stay at the edge of the confrontation. She was mad, and yet it was his turn to light into her. She was one hundred percent in the wrong.

"Yeah, Damon. That's why." She shook her head and walked to the door.

"Right. Close the door behind you, and thanks for your efforts. Hope your stomach is all better." He glanced down and opened a few files as the door closed. "Fuck. What the hell?"

They were past the point of saving things, or so it seemed. This was the reason he refused to get into a relationship in the first place. Everything was taken the wrong way, skewed, fucked up. It was exhausting, and at this point, not worth the effort. If all he was going to do was continue to hurt her with every move he made, then he was done.

He was honest in the card the night before. He did love her. But as James had clearly reminded him, love just wasn't enough.

***

The rest of the day was a blur of activity, and he didn't look up from his laptop until Ben knocked on the door later that evening. The twinkling stars outside of his window let him know it was well past the time he'd planned to get up and find something to eat. His stomach growled angrily as if in protest.

"You coming?"

"Where?" Damon stood up and stretched before pulling off his suit jacket.

"Dinner. Bethany organized a family-style dinner at the Italian place just down the road. Come on; we can walk."

"Where is the rest of the team?" He walked out into the hall to see Delilah on the phone.

"They're already there. We let them go to get the appetizers and stuff. You good walking?" Ben grabbed Delilah’s elbow, and she nodded and moved in behind them.

"Yeah, I could use some fresh air."

"Long day?"

"Yeah. I didn't move once I don't think. Everything hurts." He reached up and rubbed his hand down the back of his neck before rolling his shoulders a few times. "Beth do okay today?"

"Oh yeah. The girl is honestly brilliant. She's fast as fuck too. I love having her on the team. She didn't talk much, which was odd, but I figured she was just tired from a wild night with-"

Damon popped him in the chest. "Don't. Not appropriate."

"Gotcha." Ben gave him a sheepish look and held the elevator open for them.

Delilah’s eyes moved across him as a smile touched the side of her mouth. "My stupid sister seems to think that I'm going to set you up again."

"Again?" Ben's eyebrow lifted. "Were you the one that set him up with Bridget originally?"

Damon chuckled and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Were they going to unlock the stories of his past? He was too tired to deal with much of anything.

"Yes. The dumbest mistake of my life. I should have swiped him up for myself." She laughed and moved to Damon's side, pressing her shoulder against his. "We would make a good couple."

"Would have. Past tense." He forced a smile and walked out into the lobby of the building. Ben and Delilah laughed and poked fun at him as they walked to the restaurant. He played into it a little, but stopped outside the restaurant and turned to face them. "All right, drop it. I don't want anyone here to feel inferior to either of you because we have a past together."

"You have a past with Damon too?" Delilah laughed. "Have you seen him in a speedo?"

Damon rolled his eyes and walked into the restaurant. The hostess ushered him to the back room where the rest of his staff were. Philip was seated next to Beth and leaning over, showing her something on the menu, but they were entirely too close for Damon's comfort.

She laughed and turned her face towards Philip's to say something, putting them awkwardly close, intimately so. The widening of her eyes said that she realized it, and she moved back.

Damon cleared his throat and smiled. "Thanks for all the hard work. Bethany, can I see you for a minute?"

"Of course." She stood up as her face lost color.

Unbelievable. Something was going on between the two of them. Damon had taken a chance on hiring this little shit back, much to his detriment, obviously.

He moved through the restaurant and walked out into the cool night air as she stopped beside him.

"Is this a good place for dinner? I should think-"

He turned and grabbed her arm as he leaned down to get in her face. Her tone was cocky, shitty, full of condemnation.

"What are you doing right now? Do you want this to end? If you do, fucking say so, and I'll save us the pleasure of ripping each other apart from across the room."

She jerked her arm from him and slapped him. Hard. "Fuck you for that. You know that I love you. You're the villain here. Not me."

He rubbed his cheek and glanced around. "Right. I'm the one that lied. The one that went somewhere with someone last night and left you sleeping on the couch. Yeah, I forgot. That was me."

"If I don't have my legs open or a calculator in my hand, I'm nothing to you but a puppet on a string." She took a step back toward the restaurant. "And I didn't lie. You did."

"Your stomach still hurting?" Anger burned through him as he clenched his fists and tried hard to pull himself back from pressing her to the side of the restaurant and reminding her who was in charge. It would do no good. She didn't want him anymore. That much was obvious.

"Is anyone else from Bridget's family going to start working here? I mean, the more the fucking merrier."

"Grow up, Beth." He turned and walked back toward the office.

"Don't leave me standing here."

He ignored her and lifted his eyes to the sky as his heart ripped in two and tears burned his gaze. She could have her freedom and her future. He would take the role Charlie had advised him to. Mentor. Friend. Big Brother.

He could be anything she needed him to be and nothing else.