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“Oh, my poor baby,” I say in a faux understanding.
“Better.” He grins and turns around.
I slide the door to the terrace open and step over the frame, my eyes wandering. Moments later, his cologne invades my nostrils—musky, and spice notes mixed with his natural scent. I turn to him, and he makes business casual look like a fashion show. He wears dark blue jeans, an immaculate white shirt, and a navy sport coat clinging perfectly on his broad chest and shoulders. I’m sure he’d have made an exquisite cover model.
Before we leave, I pick up my purse while he makes the reservation. I grip my phone, and the urge to keep and capture this moment assaults me as I snap a selfie of us.
Chapter Seventeen
BRIA
The doors to the elevator slide shut, and his lips crash on mine while I grip his shirt, losing myself in him. Will I ever get enough of him, like this, mine, in love with me? No, never.
In his Aston Martin, he interlaces our fingers while he drives until we reach our destination, with Damien constantly shaking his head at London’s traffic.
Hand in hand, we stroll through Covent Garden, lost in the crowd, fascinated by the street performances. I inhale the scents of diverse food at every corner, my stomach dipping with anticipation at every turn. Until we reach the Ivy.
The Ivy was our place. It holds so many memories, and now it will witness that we found each other again
“I would come here alone from time to time, keeping us alive in my heart. Bria,” He pauses, and through a gulp he adds, “I have spent seven years without you, but there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think of you, where you didn’t own every part of me.”
“It was the same for me.”
A warmth settles in my chest. Maybe other London areas have a part of Damien, of his life, but this place is a sanctuary of stained-glass windows. Stepping inside, I let the image sink in—the opulent central bar, the masterpiece of this place, and the décor speak of glamor and good taste in a classic ambiance—in one word, exquisite.
My attention shifts the moment a waitress approaches. She greets us and leads us to the same table we always occupied. I battle with some emotions when I sit on the plush, green couch. He must have requested this table specifically. I lean into him and whisper, “Thank you, baby.”
“Everything and more for you, always.”
We order the chef’s choice. The atmosphere is light, like time flows slower and life is on hold. We let the moment sink in.
“Good?”
“Yes, more than good.”
“London has its perks,” he admits.
“Do you miss it?”
“London?” he asks, his eyes focused on me.
I nod, and he interlaces our fingers on the table, his eyes focused on mine.
“I have missed only one thing or better said, one person, and it was you. Places are insignificant when your heart is empty. Today I got to see London through your eyes, and it got its appeal back for me.” His mouth curves into a half-smile as if he can’t decide if he’s nostalgic or happy.
“Was it so bad? I mean, don’t get me wrong, but it is the city you chose.” He drags a hand down his face, and his eyelids sink.
“Zürich was killing me without you there. I chose London because there was only a faint trace you left behind, a trace that both thrilled and scared the hell out of me.”
“That’s all?”
“Also, my study, my work, and Chloe . . . she was my safety net.” At his admission, I suck in a breath.
“I will always be honest with you, Damien. I hold a certain animosity for her for the way she found a place in your life when I wasn’t there, only to realize I’m being hypocritical. I had Alex.”
“Bria, baby, there’s a tremendous difference between my relationship with Chloe and yours with Alex. I don’t need her in my life. I like that she is there. But you love him and need him in your life. I put my jealousy aside because you chose me. You’re in love with me. It’s my bed you share and my ring you wear.”
I close my eyes for a second, raising a palm in front of me.
