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He probably knows nothing about what it’s like to have a parent criticize every move you make. He probably doesn’t know what it feels like to never be enough. But one day, I hope he does. I hope he realizes that there are far worse things in life than coming in second place, like being a girl who wants more for her life than just to be someone’s wife and a mother, and having a mother who doesn’t understand that.
Before he finally left my sanctuary, clearly pissed off about something tonight, I made him promise not to contact me, not to think about me, and pretend like I never existed—because that’s what I plan to do about him.
I’m craving a world where Damien Shaw is not lurking around every corner, and I can’t wait to see what that’s like.
“Damn,” I mutter, my heart pounding as I realize just how harsh her words hit.
“I know. When I read it back, it made me cringe. It sounds so immature, so conceited, and not at all how I feel about you now, Damien. Please remember that. Those words were written by a seventeen-year-old girl who was pissed off at the world and her mom, and you were the easy target for a lot of my anger.”
“I understand that because I think that was the truth about you for me.”
“And now that I know about what you’ve gone through with your dad, I regret that I ever assumed things were perfect for you. I now know they weren’t, and I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with that shit too.”
I reach out and cup the side of her face. “Thank you.”
She takes the old journal from me, the worn corners folding as she closes it and puts it back in her bag before pulling the new one out that I got her just a few weeks ago. “Now it’s time for you to read this,” she says as she hands me the notebook.
“You wrote in it?”
“I did. But only one entry because there’s only one realization I’ve come to since you gave it to me.”
With curiosity flooding my mind, I open the journal to the first page and begin reading, jolted by the first words I read on the page.
Dear Journal,
I’m in love with Damien Shaw.
I know…you’re probably asking yourself ‘what the fuck?’ right now, and I don’t blame you. Thinking of the countless times when my words on these pages would curse his name and spew hatred for his existence, it may come as a shock that the man I fell in love with is him.
But it’s happened, and it’s taken twelve years for me to understand why.
You see, Damien and I aren’t that much different. Sure he’s far more egotistical than I’ve ever been, but if his ego is based alone on his sexual skills, then the man can be as cocky as he’d like.
However, deep down, we both craved the same thing growing up—acceptance. While I was battling my mother with her anti-feminist views regarding what it takes for a woman to be happy—and how I wasn’t living up to that—Damien was being belittled by his chauvinistic father who never saw the merit in anything he did. There was always a ‘but’ attached to his achievements, and apparently, he was expected to live up to the standard that I was the measure of according to his father.
We spent our entire childhood competing over who was the best, only to realize after all this time that the only people we are the best for are each other.
Damien not only values my hard work, determination, and drive, he finds it sexy. He loves that I have a job I worked hard to earn and am good at. He also loves my body, has no problem showing me affection, and makes me feel safer than I ever have on my own.
And I love how he fought his dad to pursue the career that he wanted, despite what his father deemed was best. It takes guts to do that, and I’m proud to say that the man I fell in love with chose the best path for himself. He’s also ridiculously attractive, smart and hardworking, and challenges me in a way that is addicting and sexy in its own right.
So how did we end up here? In love with one another?
Well, that may take some time to explain. But right now, all I need is to make sure that the man who asked me to be his fake girlfriend might still want me to be his real one.
You see, in true Charlotte Montgomery fashion, I let fear get in my way—fear of telling my mom how she made me feel all these years kept me from having a healthy relationship with her. And now, fear of admitting that I fell in love with my childhood nemesis may cost me the best man I’ve ever been with.
I want to be brave. I want to be strong. And I want a love that you read about and see in the movies. I want to find the Matthew McConaughey to my Kate Hudson. Hell, even my parents have proven that marriages can stand the test of time, though, I’m still not sure how my father has put up with my mother all these years.
But I feel like Damien is that person for me. He understands me, appreciates me, and deep down, I believe he loves me too.
I just hope it’s not too late for us to get our happily ever after.
I hope to be writing again soon with an answer to this question, and Damien beside me.
After all, I didn’t settle for a spark. I stoked a fire that had been ignited since we were kids, and by doing so, found the man I’m supposed to be with for the rest of my life.
I shut the journal when I see I’ve reached the end just as Charlotte moves to speak with moisture in her eyes. “I’m never going to be the perfect woman, employee, daughter, or mother, because lord knows I didn’t exactly have the best example to go off of. But I really just want to be a good person, and part of that begins with making things right with you.” She looks up at me, and all I see is the soul of the woman who has captured mine. “I’m sorry, Damien, for so much, but mostly for pushing you away when I know all you wanted was to be there for me.”
“I don’t want you to be perfect, Charlotte. I’ve always just appreciated you for who you are—tenacious, driven, beautiful, loyal, and strong. You are so fucking strong for putting up with what you have from your mother all of these years.”
“You’re strong too, Damien. Your dad,” she says, shaking her head. “I had no idea what you were dealing with on your side of everything.”
“But look at us, Char,” I say, cupping her face and drawing my thumb across her cheek to swipe away her tear. “Look at how we thrived despite those obstacles, despite being told we weren’t good enough by the people we were supposed to be unconditionally loved by.” My eyes latch onto hers, and at this moment, I see my future staring back at me. “God, I love the way you look at me,” I say, stroking her cheek still.
“How do I look at you?”
“Like I’m not the boy you once hated, but maybe the man who could be everything you’ve been looking for.”
And then she finally says the words my heart has known for far too long. “I love you, Damien,” she breathes out as I feel the weight of the past two weeks lift from my chest. “I love you so fucking much and I’m just so sorry for everything leading up to this moment.”
