Anchor Me
Page 44
“Besides,” I add, “this is Damien we’re talking about.” I think about my new phone. “If he wants to come to me, I’m sure he knows exactly where I am.”
“Well,” she says with a laugh, “you’re probably right about that.”
We chat for a bit longer until the girl for hair and makeup arrives. I let her repair my makeup, and then I change into my outfit once Evelyn’s in the hotseat. I’m about to put on my shoes when I realize I don’t have the anklet, and I remember that I’d been distracted by Damien entering the closet.
I close my eyes and curse softly because I hate the thought of not feeling it against my skin.
Finally, Evelyn’s housekeeper comes to her dressing room to announce that my limo’s arrived, and I twirl for Evelyn, getting her rousing endorsement before promising to see her at the event, and then rushing toward her front door where the chauffeur is waiting. I stop short when I see him. “Edward? I assumed you’d be driving Damien.”
He looks a bit sheepish. “I saw this call come through dispatch, Mrs. Stark.”
“Oh. Well, thank you.” Edward is my favorite of the drivers that work the Stark International fleet, but he usually works as Damien’s personal driver. Normally, I’d advise against leaving Damien to another driver without prior approval, but I’m sure Edward knows as well as I do that since it’s me who’s the alternate, Damien’s not going to say a word.
The thought makes me feel a little smug, as if I’ve won points in some sort of marital competition.
That feeling lasts only until I step into the limo—and all my points are totally revoked. Because there on the seat, holding out his hand for me, is Damien.
I freeze, not sure if I’m angry or relieved to see him. “Dammit, Damien. I wanted—I just—”
He moves to me, crouching in the limo as he leads me to the seat beside him. “You’re hurting,” he says gently. “When have I ever stepped away when you’re hurting?”
I flash a wan smile. “But you’re the one who hurt me.”
His shoulders sag, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. “I know. Oh, baby, I know.”
“You should have told me.”
“I was going to. That day I saw the text flash across your tablet. But once I saw it—once you told me about the others—I knew I had to—” He closes his eyes as if in defense against a horrible thought.
“You thought it might be her,” I say. “You went to Santa Barbara to see her. To find out if she’d sent them.”
“To make certain she hadn’t,” he clarifies.
“And?” I ask, but I already know the answer. If Damien thought for a second that she’d sent those horrible messages, he’d have her shipped back to the UK before she had time to draw a second breath. “So why’s she here? In California, I mean?”
“You,” he says, taking my hands, as if to stop me from running away.
“Me?”
“She wants to see you. Actually, she wants to apologize to you.”
“I don’t—”
“It’s a twelve-step kind of thing.”
I nod slowly, absorbing this. “Did you know that’s what she wanted before you went?”
He nods. “In general. Charles told me she wanted to see me. He’s been working with the court and the institution, arranging her travel and keeping me posted.” I remember when she was committed. Damien had asked Charles to continue to represent her. Damien continued to pay the bills, but he needed that buffer.
“Charles saw her first,” he continues. “Told me he agreed with the doctors that she was better and that following a twelve-step type program would help cement all the work she’s done. It made sense to me, and I want to help her heal, so I went to see her in person.”
“You should have told me.”
He leans back but keeps my hand firmly in his. “Should I have? I don’t know. I thought about it, and, honestly, if it hadn’t been for the baby, I would have told you right away.”
“Would you have? Because I’m not so sure.”
He sighs, then drags his fingers though his hair. “Hell, Nikki, hindsight’s twenty-twenty. But I can tell you with absolute honesty that I was trying to protect you. Not from Sofia—I don’t believe she wants to hurt you—but from what I knew would make you an emotional wreck. So I decided I should talk to her first. That’s when she told me she wanted to talk to you, too.”
“You should have,” I say with absolute certainty. “You should have told me that she was in California. That you were going to see her.”
“It’s complicated, baby. She’s family. You know that makes it complicated.”
“Bullshit.” I pull my hand out of his and slide away. “She isn’t family. And it isn’t fucking complicated.”
“Family is what you make of it—you know that.”
“Yeah, I do. And she treated us both like shit.” I press my hand down hard on the scar on my thigh, well hidden under a layer of silk and sequins. “She tried to taunt me into cutting.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think that doesn’t haunt me? But I survived my childhood mostly because of her. She’s not as strong as you, baby, and she was sick. You’ve read the original court documents. The doctors’ reports.”
“And now you say she’s better.” A heavy fear clings to me. I want her to be better—she’s important to Damien. But I’m so afraid that he’s wrong. She’s smart and sneaky and I don’t want to be hurt again. More than that, I don’t want Damien hurt again. “How the hell can you be sure?”
“I am,” he says. “So are her doctors.”
I tilt my head up and blink because I can’t cry again. Not after having fixed my makeup twice now. “You love her.”
I see the pain in his eyes as he nods. “You know I do. She’s like a sister.”
I nod slowly, organizing my thoughts. “You walked away from her because of me. Not financially—you took care of her. But emotionally. You just cut her off.”
“Of course,” he says. “After what she did, of course.”
“And now you want to bring her back in.”
“Well,” she says with a laugh, “you’re probably right about that.”
We chat for a bit longer until the girl for hair and makeup arrives. I let her repair my makeup, and then I change into my outfit once Evelyn’s in the hotseat. I’m about to put on my shoes when I realize I don’t have the anklet, and I remember that I’d been distracted by Damien entering the closet.
I close my eyes and curse softly because I hate the thought of not feeling it against my skin.
Finally, Evelyn’s housekeeper comes to her dressing room to announce that my limo’s arrived, and I twirl for Evelyn, getting her rousing endorsement before promising to see her at the event, and then rushing toward her front door where the chauffeur is waiting. I stop short when I see him. “Edward? I assumed you’d be driving Damien.”
He looks a bit sheepish. “I saw this call come through dispatch, Mrs. Stark.”
“Oh. Well, thank you.” Edward is my favorite of the drivers that work the Stark International fleet, but he usually works as Damien’s personal driver. Normally, I’d advise against leaving Damien to another driver without prior approval, but I’m sure Edward knows as well as I do that since it’s me who’s the alternate, Damien’s not going to say a word.
The thought makes me feel a little smug, as if I’ve won points in some sort of marital competition.
That feeling lasts only until I step into the limo—and all my points are totally revoked. Because there on the seat, holding out his hand for me, is Damien.
I freeze, not sure if I’m angry or relieved to see him. “Dammit, Damien. I wanted—I just—”
He moves to me, crouching in the limo as he leads me to the seat beside him. “You’re hurting,” he says gently. “When have I ever stepped away when you’re hurting?”
I flash a wan smile. “But you’re the one who hurt me.”
His shoulders sag, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. “I know. Oh, baby, I know.”
“You should have told me.”
“I was going to. That day I saw the text flash across your tablet. But once I saw it—once you told me about the others—I knew I had to—” He closes his eyes as if in defense against a horrible thought.
“You thought it might be her,” I say. “You went to Santa Barbara to see her. To find out if she’d sent them.”
“To make certain she hadn’t,” he clarifies.
“And?” I ask, but I already know the answer. If Damien thought for a second that she’d sent those horrible messages, he’d have her shipped back to the UK before she had time to draw a second breath. “So why’s she here? In California, I mean?”
“You,” he says, taking my hands, as if to stop me from running away.
“Me?”
“She wants to see you. Actually, she wants to apologize to you.”
“I don’t—”
“It’s a twelve-step kind of thing.”
I nod slowly, absorbing this. “Did you know that’s what she wanted before you went?”
He nods. “In general. Charles told me she wanted to see me. He’s been working with the court and the institution, arranging her travel and keeping me posted.” I remember when she was committed. Damien had asked Charles to continue to represent her. Damien continued to pay the bills, but he needed that buffer.
“Charles saw her first,” he continues. “Told me he agreed with the doctors that she was better and that following a twelve-step type program would help cement all the work she’s done. It made sense to me, and I want to help her heal, so I went to see her in person.”
“You should have told me.”
He leans back but keeps my hand firmly in his. “Should I have? I don’t know. I thought about it, and, honestly, if it hadn’t been for the baby, I would have told you right away.”
“Would you have? Because I’m not so sure.”
He sighs, then drags his fingers though his hair. “Hell, Nikki, hindsight’s twenty-twenty. But I can tell you with absolute honesty that I was trying to protect you. Not from Sofia—I don’t believe she wants to hurt you—but from what I knew would make you an emotional wreck. So I decided I should talk to her first. That’s when she told me she wanted to talk to you, too.”
“You should have,” I say with absolute certainty. “You should have told me that she was in California. That you were going to see her.”
“It’s complicated, baby. She’s family. You know that makes it complicated.”
“Bullshit.” I pull my hand out of his and slide away. “She isn’t family. And it isn’t fucking complicated.”
“Family is what you make of it—you know that.”
“Yeah, I do. And she treated us both like shit.” I press my hand down hard on the scar on my thigh, well hidden under a layer of silk and sequins. “She tried to taunt me into cutting.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think that doesn’t haunt me? But I survived my childhood mostly because of her. She’s not as strong as you, baby, and she was sick. You’ve read the original court documents. The doctors’ reports.”
“And now you say she’s better.” A heavy fear clings to me. I want her to be better—she’s important to Damien. But I’m so afraid that he’s wrong. She’s smart and sneaky and I don’t want to be hurt again. More than that, I don’t want Damien hurt again. “How the hell can you be sure?”
“I am,” he says. “So are her doctors.”
I tilt my head up and blink because I can’t cry again. Not after having fixed my makeup twice now. “You love her.”
I see the pain in his eyes as he nods. “You know I do. She’s like a sister.”
I nod slowly, organizing my thoughts. “You walked away from her because of me. Not financially—you took care of her. But emotionally. You just cut her off.”
“Of course,” he says. “After what she did, of course.”
“And now you want to bring her back in.”
