“It’s OK,” I reply through a watery smile. “I’m just so scared it’ll all go to shit, just like it did before. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“You keep comparing Damon to Andre,” she says tentatively. “Other than the fact that they’re both crazy about you, do they have anything in common?”
When I don’t answer, she presses on.
“Does Damon treat you the way Andre did? Do you feel the same way when you’re together? Does Damon have the same values and goals Andre did?”
“No,” I whisper. I suck in a breath, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. “They’re nothing alike. Not even a little.”
She smiles at me, dropping her hand.
“You know, even when Cory and I admitted we were dating, it was hard not to treat him like just another New York player. His actions were different, but I was running the same old script.
“I’m not saying the article has it right, or that you have to feel something if you don’t ordosomething if you’re not ready, but maybe you can try to justbewith Damon. Just for Damon. Not to prove anything to anyone or yourself.”
I release a long breath.
Just be with Damon. Don’t worry about Andre or the cameras, or whether I’m really ready to get serious with someone again. Whether I’ll ever get married again. Just…be with Damon. Something that’s been easy since the moment we met.
We finish unpacking the boxes, and Cory reappears from wherever he was hiding to help us break them down andreorganize the space. It looks great. It looks like the perfect place for my next chapter.
Chapter twenty-six
Damon
On my way out of the gym, I yank hard on the gate to the outdoor basketball courts, making sure it’s locked. It doesn’t budge. I slip my keys into my back pocket and tighten my satchel across my chest for the long commute ahead, then do a double-take when I see a familiar car idling at the bottom of the school’s front steps.
“Hey stranger!” she calls out before her window is all the way down. I kiss her with smiling lips before opening the door and sliding in beside her.
“Hey Niko,” I greet Kendra’s driver. He nods at me in the rearview mirror before pulling away from the curb.
I tug Kendra close to me, loving the feel of her softness against my hard.
“Not that I’m complaining, babe, but what are you doing here? I thought you had a shoot uptown.”
She sits up from where she was nestled against my side.
“How is it you can wrangle twenty-five pubescent kids all trying to be the next Kobe, and still remember my schedule? Are you a wizard or something? Without Morty, I’d be helpless.”
I kiss the top of her head, unable to stop touching her, even with Niko so close.
“Habit, I guess. Overseas, we were always on the road. Buses, trains, flights. Being late meant getting benched, a hefty fine. Sometimes it meant being in breach of contract.”
“I had no idea,” she says, settling back against me. “Sounds a lot like my life, except you did it all on your own while I have a whole team helping me. In fashion, you’re lucky if you book another job if you get the reputation of being late.And if you miss a flight they’re paying for? Forget it.”
“You have to pay for your own travel?” I ask, playing with the loose strands of her hair.
“Sometimes, yeah. Especially when you’re just starting out. It’s like the overhead of being a model. Travel expenses are written into my contract now, though.”
“Ooh,” I whistle. “Impressive.”
We ride in companionable silence for several blocks, just enjoying holding each other, when I remember my unanswered question.
“Wait, you distracted me with your wily ways.” Kendra waggles her eyebrows at me, and I chuckle. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company and a ride home?”
“Oh, right!” she says with an excited clap. “OK, my friend, Daniela—I think you’ve met her before?” I nod. “She had reservations at Chef’s Table Brooklyn Fare, but she booked a job in Malta. She didn’t want them to go to waste, so she gifted them to me.”
“Brooklyn Fare?” I ask, puzzled. “Like, the grocery store?”
