Chapter Twenty-Nine

Alex

“Hello?” a feminine voice called out from below the office.

I glanced up from staring aimlessly at my computer screen, trying to make sense of how I moved forward from here. I might love Damian, but could I trust him with my heart?

Melissa looked up from her spreadsheets. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“No.” I shook my head and double-checked my clipboard. “The construction team finalized their work yesterday, but the painters aren’t coming until tomorrow. I added an empty day in the schedule just in case.”

Melissa stood up. “I’ll just go—”

“Stop right there.” I jumped out of my seat and sprinted to the door, blocking the opening with my body. “The last time you went wandering around the brewery on your own, a madman tried to strangle you. I’ll go down.”

“And what if a madman tries to strangle you?” She put her hands on her hips and tried her best to look intimidating. But all that blonde hair with those big blue eyes ruined the effect.

“That’s what stilettos are for.” I winked at her and showed off my four-inch heels. “Besides, it’s probably just the designer stopping by to finalize the finishing touches.”

I dashed out the door before Melissa could argue with me. Rounding the bottom of the stairs, I stepped into the tasting bar to find Penelope Alworth standing by the bar, exerting supreme effort not to touch anything.

“Mrs. Alworth, how nice to see you again.” I slapped on my award-winning smile and settled into Charming Alex mode. “Damian isn’t in yet, but he should be here in a bit.”

“I imagine you have a better idea of his schedule than I do since he didn’t come home last night, but that’s not why I’m here. Is there somewhere we can go to speak?” It was a question, but her tone made it clear she wasn’t leaving here without saying her piece.

“We can...” I turned to head toward the old office space, but that wouldn’t work. The construction crew completed their work yesterday, turning it into a storage room. “This way.” I pushed aside the sliding, refinished barn doors and gestured into the new dining room. It still needed a little work, but the tables and chairs were in place.

Without waiting for me, she marched to a table in the middle of the room and sat down. I partially closed the door behind us and joined her. I worked to keep the plastic smile on my face though I was feeling anything but chipper. “What would you like to discuss?”

“If I can be frank, I’m here to talk about you and why you should stop dating my son.” She slapped her handbag on the table and set her mouth in a firm line that told me she didn’t intend to actually have a conversation about this.

Too bad for her I wasn’t one of the interns at the station she could bully around and make fetch her coffee.

I turned up the wattage on my smile and turned my voice sugary sweet. “I don’t understand. Have I done something?”

“More like someone. Or really, a lot of someones.” She grabbed a folder from her purse and opened it up on the table. Dozens of photos spilled out, all of them me and whatever Hollywood golden boy I had been dating at that moment.

I picked up a few of the photos. Most of them came from tabloid magazines, and I could only imagine the headlines they shared. There were some poor decisions on the table, but who was she to throw them in my face as if there was anything wrong with dating around? Granted, most women dated around in order to find their Mr. Right, and that had never been my intention. But that was beside the point.

“So, you’re offended I had the audacity to date men before I met Damian? I’m sorry to break the news to you, but Damian was hardly an innocent flower when I got my slutty hands on him.” I tossed the pictures back at her.

“Alexandra, dear, this is not a session of slut shaming. I don’t care if you want to date the entire National Football League. But I know what my son is looking for in the woman who shares his life, and you are not it. I refuse to watch him give his heart to you and make decisions about his future only for you to get bored and walk away.” She packed the photos up and sloppily shoved them back in her purse. “Damian has been through enough.”

Dammit. She was right. Damian had been through hell. I saw it every night with his nightmares. “Mrs. Alworth, I had absolutely no intention of getting serious with Damian.”

“Wonderful.” She grabbed her purse to stand up, but I set a hand on her arm to stop her.

“But you raised an amazing man, and I find I can’t seem to help myself. I’ve never been the kind of girl who was ever going to settle down. I’ve seen what marriage can do to two people who are supposed to love each other, and I decided a long time ago that wasn’t for me. Damian deserves the white picket fence and two-point-five kids...and before I met him, I didn’t think I could give that to anyone.”

“Well, I can at least agree with you that I raised an amazing man.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” I said.

“But...”

I smiled. A real one this time. “There’s always a but with women like us.” I sucked in a deep breath. “But...he isn’t a child anymore. I know he’s spent these last three years like a hermit, but he’s starting to crawl out now. He’s braver now. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and I’d like to think I’ve had a little to do with that.”

Damian’s mom’s face softened, and she gave me a small smile. “He’s my baby, no matter how old he gets. When he got hurt...well...I swore I would do a better job protecting him.”

“He doesn’t need your protection anymore, and eventually, you have to stop smothering him and let him live his life.”

She stood up and draped her fashionably expensive purse over her shoulder. “Someday you just might have a child of your own.”

“And...”

“And then you’ll know how this works.”

She walked out of the room, leaving me sitting at the table.

Children of my own? With Damian’s dark black hair and his intense blue eyes? I could already imagine family movie nights...all of us piled on the sofa under blankets with bowls of popcorn to share.

I didn’t know whether to be excited at the possibility or terrified. How had I let this happen? I’d fallen for a guy, and instead of telling him first, I’d basically told his mom. I dropped into the chair with a thump as my heart rate took off at a gallop. I had to fix this...soon.