FIFTEEN
Belle
“Your destination is on your right.”
I lean forward and peer out the windscreen, counting up as I crawl past the letterboxes. Damien’s parents’ place is a sprawling acreage house set back on a two-acre section at the outskirts of town. I take a gamble that they’re even here. For all I know, they’ve all gone out to lunch to catch up.
A compact car sits parked in the driveway, a larger SUV behind it. Good signs.
I park Sharon’s car and check my appearance in the rear-view before I get out. It’s ridiculous that I’m bloody well nervous. What the hell is there to be worried about? I’m here to surprise my boyfriend—what guy wouldn’t like that?
My heart races as I walk up the wide concrete path toward the front door. Perfectly trimmed shrubs line the walkway, lights recessed into the lip at the sides. I can imagine the house would look magical at night.
The distant murmur of voices drifts to where I stand, my fist clammy as I raise it to the heavy oak door and knock. What seems like forever passes before the sound of the seal around the door breaking has me straightening my spine and plastering a smile on my face.
Damien’s father greets me, an unmistakable look of confusion on his face. I’ve never spoken to his parents, never met them, but I know what they look like from pictures.
“Hi.” I lift a hand briefly. “I’m Belle.”
He hesitates, and my heart plummets to my stomach before everything seems to click into place and his entire face lights up. “Belle! Come in. Come in.” He steps back, gesturing for me to enter.
I slip my shoes off at the entrance, and then wait for him to take the lead. He smiles, and then settles a hand on the middle of my back to guide me through the enormous, open-plan living area.
“Damien didn’t tell us you were coming, so excuse my rudeness.”
“He doesn’t know. It’s a surprise.”
His lips curl up in a mischievous grin. Damien’s dad is tall and broad in the shoulders. I can’t remember where he works, but I recall something about it being an executive position. Everything about him seems to corroborate that story: perfect hair, unweathered face, soft hands, and impeccable taste in what looks to be expensive clothing.
We navigate past a gigantic corner suite and across to where stacking doors have been pushed back to open the living area out onto an enormous entertaining area. Five heads turn to take me in as we approach where Damian’s family sit around a large outdoor table. Finger food and liquor are spread across the surface.
“Belle.” Damien doesn’t rise, simply leaning back in his seat to give me a “what the fuck are you doing here” look.
“Thought I’d surprise you,” I lamely explain, at a loss for what to do with myself as Damien’s father resumes his seat at the table.
“Get your girl a chair, boy.” His father then proceeds to introduce everyone while Damien scrambles to find me a seat.
I’m awkwardly jammed between him and his younger sister, Beth.
“I’m glad you came.” She leans in close, her voice low enough for only us to hear. “He’d never bring you here to meet us, otherwise.”
I stare at her, not sure what to say to that. Is she insinuating that he’s embarrassed of me? Or that the thought wouldn’t have crossed his mind?
“How long are you here for?” Damien asks, taking hold of my hand.
The contact seems contractual, rather than wanted. “I thought I’d stay for the afternoon, if that’s okay?”
He shrugs. What the actual fuck. “I’ll see if Mum has enough for dinner.”
“So, Belle,” his dad says. “Damien tells us you’re a tattoo artist. That’s an interesting choice of profession.”
My skin burns as I look around the table and realise that nobody else has a visible tattoo. My money is on the lot of them not having a single one between them.
“Yes.” I offer a warm smile. “I have a love for drawing, and it naturally progressed, I suppose.”
“What got you interested in art?” his mother asks.
“It helped me through a tough time in my life.”
“Oh.” She cocks her head, as though the concept of a rough patch is foreign.
I’m so out of my element here.
“How about we head indoors, babe, and catch up?” Damien’s question is innocent enough, but I can’t help but feel he’s steering me away from possibly saying something he didn’t want to reveal.
“Sure.” I rise with him and offer the table a small wave. “It was nice meeting you all.”
“You too, dear.”
I’m shepherded indoors and down a long hallway to what is clearly Damien’s room. He closes the door behind us, hesitating with his hand on the flat surface, back to me.
“You could have given me warning, Belle.”
“I didn’t realise I was such a dirty secret.”
“You’re not.” He spins, clearly exasperated. “You’re different, is all. I would have liked to prepare them.”
Different? Not as though I have three heads. “You’re not happy to see me.”
“Babe, no.” He lifts his hands to placate me. “Of course I’m happy to see you.”
“Well?” I sling both arms out wide, welcoming a hug.
He stares at me. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting.” I shut my eyes and concentrate on my breathing.
The scuff of his feet on carpet pass by, and then his words echo off the windows behind me. “I just needed this time to get my head together, is all.”
My arms hit my sides with a slap as I spin to face his back. “You had four fucking weeks, Damien.”
“Where I was sightseeing, not thinking about us.” He turns to frown at me.
“I didn’t realise the two things had to be mutually exclusive.”
Damien sighs, running a hand over his face. “How about I show you the pictures I took? Yeah? Maybe that’ll help us cool off.”
Oh, buddy. I was cool as a goddamn cucumber when I came in. “Whatever.” I’ve driven three hours to get here; no matter how mad I am, I at least intend to get a break and something to drink out of this visit.
“Here.” Damien retrieves his iPad and spreads out on top of the bed. He flicks the stand on the hard case and props the device up before him. “Come lie down beside me.”
I reluctantly agree and do as he says, bored before he even finds the start of the pictures. The further he flicks through the images, though, explaining each as he goes, the more I have to give it to him: the place is amazing. It makes me yearn to head out and explore myself. I’ve been so wrapped up in my career that I forgot what it can be like to get back to nature.
“Who are they?” I point to a group of three people—two chicks and a guy—who appear in most of the pictures.
“They were some German tourists that joined the trek.” He points to the guy and the tallest chick. “They’re engaged, and this”—his finger moves to the shorter blonde—“is her sister.”
“Odd.” Who takes their sibling along on a trip with their fiancé? “Would have been a bit crowded.”
“Not really. She left them alone most of the time.”
“And what, hung out on her own?” I frown at him. “That’s a bit harsh.”
His brow twitches, Adam’s apple bobbing before he shifts his gaze back to the device. “We all got along, so she wasn’t alone much.”
I push to a seated position and cock my head. “Who all got along?” He better fucking say the entire tour group.
His brown eyes flick to mine before he taps to the next picture. Mystery girl features in that one also, so he taps frantically until he’s back at simple, uncomplicated scenery.
“Tell me the truth, Damien.”
“She’s no one. I spent two weeks with them, Belle. I’m about to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Are you?” I slide off the bed, repulsed by his proximity. Because if how I feel right now is anything to go by, he’s just cemented my whole reason for being here.
“Stop being silly and come look at the rest of the pictures.”
“I don’t want to see photos of your fucking holiday without me,” I grit between clenched teeth. “I came here to see you. I came here, curious if my boyfriend would be happy to see me. I came here because while you’ve been off trekking around Alaska, I’ve done some soul-searching of my own.”
“Belle—”
I lift my palm. “No. Hear me out. This”—I gesture between us—“is a waste of time. I know that, and you know that. You tell me you want to make things work, that you’re committed to ‘trying’ with me. Well news flash, Damien, you shouldn’t have to try. Did you ever stop to ask yourself why you were happy to keep travelling without me?”
He doesn’t answer, rather pushing himself up to a seated position as he frowns at me.
“Admit it,” I whisper, begging despite my pride screaming at me not to. “You don’t want forever with me. You never wanted forever. You just wanted somebody to save you from feeling lonely while you were overseas.”
He sighs, eyes averted. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Well you did. And you know what? It hurts more that you’d continue to lie to me, to waste my time and yours, because you didn’t want to admit you made a mistake.”
“I didn’t make a mistake,” he argues. “I met you on the plane and everything clicked. You made me laugh, and I knew you were heartbroken, but I figured that would pass. I thought you were it, Belle, because no girl had made me feel that at ease.” He runs his palms over his thighs. “What I misunderstood was that the way I felt, the comfort around you… those feelings were platonic. I didn’t find my lover, I found my best friend.”
A lump forms in my throat. He may as well be explaining my emotional journey. I thought I could heal my wounds with Damien. I thought I could force love and leave the pain behind. But nothing worked.
“By the time I realised,” he continues, “I thought you felt something deeper.” He shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “Shit, Belle. We never argued. If you’d got up me a few times I might have figured out you were confused too.”
“But I was too perfect.”
“You were too happy. Content.”
He really didn’t know me. All that time together and we’re no less strangers than we were that first day. I take a deep breath, the weight on my shoulders already lighter. “You don’t need to be afraid of telling me the truth anymore, because I’m saying it for you: I don’t love you. I never could.”
He nods, swallowing. “I’m sorry this is how it came to a head, Belle.”
“I’m sorry we let it get this far.”
The stress visibly drains from him also as he stands to walk toward me, and takes my hands in his. “I’m still glad I met you on that plane. I wouldn’t go back and change that, even if I could.”
“Me either.” To my horror, I cry. Years with this guy and he never gave me cause to feel as strongly as I do now. I pull him into my arms, relieved when he gives in and hugs me back. “Best of luck, okay? Whatever you decide to do.”
“You too, Belle. Don’t be a stranger.”
I pull away with a shake of my head and open his door to head down the hallway toward the entrance. His family continue to chat at the outdoor table, oblivious to the fact I leave. I slide my shoes on and let myself out, mentally planning what I’ll do when I get home as I head for the car.
My time with Damien wasn’t all wasted. Our relationship may seem pointless at first glance, but what I learnt holds more value than what staying single would have achieved.
You can’t force love, and you also can’t make do with second best. If your heart belongs to someone, then there’s no point in trying to change that. Love can be taught, love can be learnt, but in order to do so you have to feel it.
And with Zeus, I feel it.