Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
This had been a mistake. He would call another Uber and go home. He’d take a sleeping pill and knock himself out. In the morning, he’d return to the office and lose himself in work. He’d leave Ellen to find her happiness elsewhere. It was the sensible thing to do.
With a heavy heart, Damon turned from her door. Reaching into his jacket, he took out his cell phone. Just as he clicked on the Uber app, someone came up behind him.
“Excuse me,” a deep male voice said. “Is this apartment eighty-six? I have a delivery for you.”
A man in a brown UPS uniform stood before him, a large, flat package in his hands.
“Oh, I don’t live here,” Damon replied, taking a step back.
“No problem.” The man set the large package against the wall beside Ellen’s door. He snapped a picture, rang the bell and then turned on his heel, striding away.
Before Damon could react, Ellen’s door opened and she appeared on the sill.
She was wearing a paint-covered smock, her hair piled loosely on her head, escaped tendrils framing her face. She had a smudge of blue paint on her cheek the same dark blue as her eyes.
They widened as she stared at him, her mouth falling open.
Just seeing her was like having a heavy stone lifted from his chest.
“Damon?” she breathed, brows furrowing in apparent confusion.
His name on her tongue was like sunlight. No sound had ever been sweeter to him.
“You have a package,” he said stupidly, nodding toward it.
Her eyes slid to the box and then back to him. “What… What are you doing here?”
He guffawed to hide his embarrassment. “Good to see you, too.”
Ellen took a step back, her arms crossing protectively over her torso, her expression suddenly guarded.
He sighed, furious at himself for fucking things up right out of the gate. “I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. “I should have called or texted or something. I just…” He trailed off, at a loss at what to say next, how much to reveal.
She remained silent, but she was watching him, her eyes moving over his face as she waited. At least she hadn’t slammed the door in his face.
He tried to think of something clever or amusing to ease the tension crackling between them. He racked his brains for something that would excuse his just showing up out of the blue, without leaving himself too vulnerable in the process.
Marty’s words echoed in his mind.
“You may be damaged. But you’re not broken. Trust in that love. Trust in yourself.”
Talk about irony. During their week together, Damon had expected more of his sub girl—the unequivocal trust, the complete vulnerability—than he’d ever been willing or able to give in return. She was the courageous one here. Not him.
“Can I come in, Ellen? I… I need to talk to you. Please.”
His heart stopped beating while he waited for her answer.
“Please,” he repeated, the word now no more than a whisper.
She took a step back, dropping her arms.
“Okay.” The ghost of a smile curved her lips. “Of course. Please, come in.”
Relief making him almost giddy, Damon gripped the handle of his rolling suitcase with one hand and lifted her package from the wall with the other.
Once he was inside and the door closed behind them, Ellen took the package from him. “My new canvases,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for these.” She nodded toward a freestanding coat rack near the door. “You can hang your jacket there.”
She held the package in front of her like a shield as he removed and hung his jacket. Suddenly self-conscious, Damon ran his hands down his rumpled shirt in a vain effort to smooth it. “Sorry I look like crap,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “I just got back from overseas. I came straight here.”
Concern flashed in her eyes. “Is everything okay?” she asked, still clutching the package to her chest.
“Yes,” he said, unable to contain his smile. “It is now.”
He reached for the box that stood between them and gently but firmly took it from her grasp. Setting it against the wall, he turned back to her, trying to formulate the words he longed to say, words she needed to hear.
“Ellen,” he began, his voice suddenly hoarse as a lump rose in his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I was… I’ve been an idiot.” His eyes slid from her face as he made his confession. “A total fucking idiot. Because of my own baggage and bullshit, I put an arbitrary end to whatever it was that was happening between us.”
He blew out a breath, feeling as if he was poised on the edge of a cliff, trying to find the courage to leap. He looked back at her face and, all at once, his fear fell away. She was watching him with such a hopeful, earnestly sweet expression that he stepped over the edge, no longer caring if he’d find his wings.