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“Jackass.”
“Fine. I was a jackass the other da—”
“Actually, asshole’s better.”
“Ava,” he growls. “I was a huge jerky asshole, and I’m sorry.”
His apology is straightforward, but it’s sincere. He’s not here with his cocky attitude or mightier-than-thou smirk.
“I should’ve handled things differently. Given you the chance you deserved to talk to me without accusations looming over us. I just—” He pauses, looking at me, his dark eyes sloping like all the happiness has been sucked out of him too. “—I-I just…”
The stuttering over his words has my heart squeezing in my chest and tears flooding my eyes because Damon’s not a wordless person. He’s lost his words as I’ve lost the silver linings. And it only serves to make the sadness greater.
“There’s no excuse or justification for my actions, except that I’m an asshole and you deserve better.”
The conversation we had that first night at the bar about Marsh flits into my head, and I blurt, “And a sack of shit.”
He chuckles at that, adding, “An incredibly stupid shack of shit.”
I nod, waiting for him to continue.
“I brought your dress.”
“For what?” Of course, now I’m being difficult, but with all the fretting going on inside me, I don’t want to be weak right now. Giving in too easily would be a sign of weakness, right? The expectation, the rule, is that I should hold out, make him grovel. Maybe rebut him and put up a fight. But everything inside me is screaming to let go. Finally breathe and feel something other than hurt or lonely. Everything inside me is aching, panging, and longing to be held by him.
“For tonight.” Damon stands and heads back to my front door, coming back with the designer garment bag in his hand. “Every couple fights and argues…”
“We didn’t just argue, Damon. You accused me of going behind your back because you heard I spoke to Hayden. So, what? Next time someone tells you they saw me talk to another guy, are you going to accuse me of cheating on you?”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I? Because it felt like you did just that. You accused me of cheating your trust. And furthermore, you haven’t given me shit. I’ve worked hard. I’ve done things that quite frankly I’m not even proud of. I did every fucking thing I swore I would never do. I let you railroad me and coerce me…and in spite of it all, I trusted you enough to let you in. To love you.”
He looks at me like his whole world has been made right. And I realize too late that I let him have the only thing that I was holding on to.
My love.
The one thing I’ve given him in the guise of lust and trust and kindness, I’ve handed it to him on a platter when he least deserves it. And it’s odd how comforting it feels to do it.
A tear escapes me and rolls down my cheek, the go-ahead all the others need to follow. “All you had to do was trust me too.”
“And I do.”
“Not enough to know that I would never hurt you intentionally.”
“You can’t love someone you don’t trust, Ava, and I love you more than everything.” He sits beside me, pulling me onto his lap. “I can apologize again and again, but unless you’re willing to accept it—” Damon shrugs, looking down at his lap, as though the possibility of defeat, of losing me, is too much to bear. “—it’s pointless.”
My finger finds the freckle by his lip, tracing from it to his jaw. Damon is so damn gorgeous, everything about him makes me want to lose myself to him, but what turns my want into a need is the heart I know he guards so closely.
I know he’s let me in there because he’s not an apologetic man. He’s not someone that lives on his feelings; he’s ruthless and conniving and brilliant, but he feels when it comes to me. He feels and he hurts, and I can’t hold that against him.
“I should’ve told you about my appointment. I was too chicken because I told you I was covered and now—” I shake my head sheepishly because I’m not sure what is happening now. Whether I’m pregnant or not, or if maybe there is something more ominous at play.
“I don’t care.” He pauses, letting out a long sigh before he starts again. “That came out wrong. I do care but not in a bad way. And besides, it’s not only your responsibility.”
Lowering his forehead onto mine, he nudges his nose over mine.
“What are you doing?”
