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CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Damon
Three Weeks Later
The sun shines across the living room tile of my empty apartment. It’s strange seeing the windows uncovered by curtains and all of my things packed up and ready to go to storage.
Kind of like a dream, and I’m not sure if it’s a good or a bad one.
My shoes scuff lightly as I carry another box toward the door, but every little sound echoes in the empty space I once called home.
I wish I could say I’m sad to be leaving the place, but I’m not.
This morning, as I was gathering the last of my boxes, I came across some of Susan’s old belongings. It struck me then that I don’t have a single happy memory in this apartment.
The box I’m holding slips from my grip.
“Shit.”
I catch it in enough time that it doesn’t crash, but there’s the clatter of glass jangling together inside. The word FRAGILE is written across the top in bold sharpie.
I pivot to slide it on top of the closest box before popping the tape and checking for any damage.
One by one, I peel back a bit of newspaper and peer at the etched glass of various awards I’ve accumulated over the years. I carefully place them to the side of the box as I sift my way to the bottom.
My stomach lurches when behind my most recent accomplishment lies a navy blue baseball cap.
Not just any baseball cap, but the one I bought for Kate when we were in Topica Bay.
I have no idea how it got in here, but my fingertips are shaky as I trace the Braves emblem on the front. Without thinking, I bring the hat to my nose and inhale the barest hint of vanilla and sea salt.
All at once, I relive every emotion of our last night together.
Excitement, happiness, and awe, followed by anger, sadness, and betrayal.
It’s been three weeks without a single word from the woman who stole a heart I’d only just repaired.
In all that time, I’ve thrown myself back into work, trudging my way through the bitterness and grief of losing her. Patrick and I have been working closely to prepare for my move to London and my joining the international team.
I shouldn’t miss Kate or the man I was when I was with her, but a residual longing remains.
I’d gone to Topica Bay dead set on impressing Patrick and getting the Associate Director promotion, and Kate’s charm and magnetism undoubtedly helped me achieve that goal. Hard as that is to admit.
Returning to Tiggerz my first week back from paradise left me hollow, and every day, I obsessively ran through each detail of that night.
Kate’s desperate cries fucking killed me. Had me nearly falling to my knees before her, begging her to stop. But I was angry. Undeniably furious that she’d worked me over to the point of giving her every piece of myself—all for it to be a sham.
I rub the ache that spreads over the center of my chest.
I’ve never fully opened up to a woman the way I did with Kate. And she didn’t just get to know me—she saw me for everything I’ve ever wanted to be and encouraged me to embody it.
But in the end, she didn’t choose me.
I tuck the glass award inside some newspaper, rearrange the rest of them so they don’t get damaged, and then close the box.
A knock sounds from the front door, followed by a muffled, “Mr. Carlisle?”
I crack open the door to see a young man in a black-and-purple uniform with the words Father and Son Moving stitched across his chest.
