Chapter Thirty-One

Alex

I parked my car on the gravel driveway and glanced in the rearview mirror at Damian’s cabin. He’d never made it into work. There was no need to worry with his overprotective mom in place, but I couldn’t stop my head from running through all the reasons why he didn’t come in. And all of them had to do with me.

A big part of me wanted to run inside, throw on some comfy sweatpants and order a pizza. Damian was a puzzle I needed to sort out, and a junk-food binge would help me sort through all these conflicting emotions. But the part of me wearing my big girl panties knew that was a cop-out.

I got out and slammed the door. Carefully navigating the gravel and rock in stilettos, I made my way to his front porch. The lights were off everywhere. Maybe I would get lucky, and he wouldn’t be home.

Coward.

I knocked and waited. Several minutes of silence passed. Long enough I thought maybe I would get lucky. But then shuffling sounded behind the door, and it opened. Damian stood barefoot in the dark house.

“Hi.” I tried to put on a happy face, but the somber mood from inside the cabin seeped out and smacked me between the eyes. It was enough that I almost turned tail and ran back to my place. Almost. Big girl panties.

Damian nodded and stepped back for me to come in. No greeting, no kiss hello, no eye contact.

“I was worried when you didn’t come in to work today.” I stepped in and paused in the front room. “Is everything okay?”

Damian finally looked up at me, and the pain in his eyes nearly took me down. “Who is Daniel?”

The question hit me out of nowhere, and my brain worked double time to catch up to the conversation. “Who?”

“Daniel Cambridge.” Damian gestured to a low table where a giant, garish bouquet sat. “He sent you those.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Damian was upset over a stupid floral arrangement. It was kind of sweet that he would be jealous, but I’d seen firsthand how the ugly side of jealousy could rip two people apart. “Daniel is a producer my father is hoping to work with. I went to dinner with him as a favor to my father.”

“Did your father ask you to sleep with him, too, or was that one on the house?” His words were flat, but they cut into me like shards of glass.

How could he think that of me? I straightened my shoulders and held my chin up. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t sleep with him.” I might have deep feelings for Damian, but we hadn’t made that kind of commitment yet. He had no rights to say anything about who I went out with.

“None of my...” Damian’s outburst roared through the silent house like a freight train. “You know what? It’s not my business, but I’m sure the tabloids will find this all extremely interesting.” He got a calculating look in his eye. “Isn’t he married?”

I took a step closer, my body shaking with a sudden rush of adrenaline. “You wouldn’t.” I’d spent my youth watching my reputation torn to shreds by tabloid reporting. To think he’d do that to me, here, with the impact it could have on Naked Brews? I didn’t know this man at all, did I?

“Actually, I probably don’t need the tabloids.” His lips curled into a sneer, pulling at his scars in a way that made him look the part of the villain he was attempting to be. “You see, I have connections as well.”

“What has gotten into you?” I threw my hands up to dispel some of the extra energy raging through my body. “They’re flowers. Stupid, ugly flowers from an old man I only had dinner with. What gives you the right to have a say about who I eat with?”

“You’re right.” Damian stepped back and ran his hands over his face. “I have no rights here, because whatever this”—he gestured between us—“might have been is never going to be.”

The air whooshed out of my lungs. What the hell was happening here? I had come over to tell Damian I loved him, that I wanted to give us a real chance, but he was standing there breaking up with me. An incoming text dinged from my pocket, but I ignored it.

“Who is it?” Damian’s voice was frigid, like a snowstorm.

“It doesn’t matter.” I took a deep breath in a wasted attempt to calm my erratic heartbeat. “Can we just talk about this?”

The text notification sounded again and then for a third time. Damian stood back, his arms crossed over his chest. “Who is it?”

“Fine.” I ripped the phone out of my pocket and glared at the screen. Fuck.

“Who. Is. It?”

I could lie, but the damage was done. Might as well throw it all out on the table. “It’s Vincent. He’s coming into town this weekend and wants to have dinner.”

“You should tell him you’re free.” Damian turned away and stared at the enormous floral arrangement. “Unless you’ve already made plans with the producer.”

Red anger boiled in my stomach. If this is Damian’s true self, then maybe it was a good thing this was all coming out. “How dare you? I never made you any promises, and yes, maybe I like to date. What exactly is the problem with that so long as I’m not lying to myself like you are?”

I sucked in a deep breath and relished in the look of shock on Damian’s face. “You want to sit there all high and mighty and judge me, but at least I’m living. At least I put myself out there, and I’m honest with myself. I don’t hide away, pretending there’s nothing wrong with a grown man staying in his house for three years. You think other people will judge you for the way you look, but here’s the real truth. You stay in that house because you can’t stand looking at yourself.”

“You—”

“Are so done here.” I pulled the spare set of keys for his cabin from my purse and threw them at his feet. “If I hear so much as a whisper of rumor about myself and Mr. Cambridge, you’ll have a defamation lawsuit sitting in your hands faster than you can say ‘turncoat.’”

I marched to the door and threw it open. “Lake will be back in three days, and my philandering ass has everything under control. I don’t want to see you inside that brewery again. Ever.”

Slamming the door shut behind me, I stomped down the steps, tore off my heels, and practically ran to my cabin. The second I was inside, I fell to the ground, a blubbering pile of hot mess. My chest closed in on me, and I had to work for every heaving breath.

Damian and I were over. This was exactly the wake-up call I needed. I’d gotten lost in a fantasy, a make-believe fantasy about happily-ever-afters. What a joke.

I choked on a sob and flung myself deeper into my messy cabin—a place where I could live for me and me alone—a place where I could be my true self. I didn’t need love. I had all that I needed right here. I reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the open box of Nilla Wafers. Sugar would help and maybe a movie marathon...just nothing from the Bring It On franchise.