Understand

Angel

I really thought he was going to kiss me, and I didn’t hate the idea. As much as I try to stay upset with him, I can’t. I’ve always been the type of person who doesn’t give second chances. Never forgive easily. Certainly don’t forget. With my own mistakes more than anyone. But with Damian, I want to hear his side of the story. I may have told myself that the matter is black and white, and his answer will determine whether I offer a second chance or leave to lick my wounds, but I’m not sure it’s going to be that simple.

He may have heard me say I didn’t want his help in getting a job, but he doesn’t understand why that was so important to me. If he tried to help, is that really a bad thing? It all seems so foolish now.

“We should talk.” Damian gestures toward a chair at the end of the table.

I scan the massive balcony to see where Genie is, and she’s off sniffing empty plant pots in the interior corner. “Yeah. Can we eat? I’m starving.”

He laughs and walks over to pull out a chair for me. I sit, but before he does, he asks, “Want a mimosa or something? Hair of the Dog?”

I roll my eyes. “No, thank you. I’m never touching alcohol again.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I’ve heard far worse drunk dialling stories, so I guess not the worst-case scenario, but I’m still embarrassed. Not to mention, my time here today is basically sponsored by Tylenol.”

He slides into his chair, twirling a fork in his left hand. “I’m glad you drunk dialled me.”

“Who said you’re the only one I called?” I try to get a rise from him, but I can’t stop the smirk from spreading on my face.

“Angel.” He says my name the same gentle way he did last night. The way that makes it sound like everything is right in the world. Like he’ll do anything to undo what happened. “I’m sorry.”

That’s a good start. “I know. Me too, if that matters.” I half-stand to pull the containers of food from the bag.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve always been honest with me and I should have extended you the same courtesy. But please believe me when I say I had nothing to do with hiring you. I didn’t know anything about it until after your first meeting with Mitchell, and even then, I only found out because I heard him talking about you.”

I watch his eyes and facial expression as he explains his side of the story, and I don’t detect anything deceitful. “He was talking about me?”

He looks straight up as he jerks his head back a few inches. “Mitchell thinks you’re hot. He wants to ask you out.”

That makes me laugh. A full cackle. I’m surprised birds don’t scatter, thinking I’m a predator—a vulture or something. That may have been my opportunity to get a rise out of him after all, but I decide to set the record straight. “Mitchell’s not my type.”

“Is that so? What’s your type?” The left side of his lips lift in an irresistible smirk.

Maybe I will toy with him. “Dark skin, short, baby face, long hair. Maybe a Middle-Eastern prince or something. Or a nepotistic son of an oil tycoon. Someone with no ambition beyond spending money they did nothing to earn.” That was tough to get out. It’s been a long time since I said an outright lie and it feels weird, even dripping with sarcasm.

“That’s too bad for Mitchell, then.” Damian’s smirk turns into an irresistible smile. “Anyway, I heard them talking about you, so I asked about the new freelancer. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. I’ve never interacted with a freelancer before. Normally they connect over video conference or email, so I thought it would be safe to stay out of it and let you focus on the work, not on me being the boss. I didn’t want that to come between us.”

There’s so much remorse in his face, I feel bad for overreacting. I should have listened to him.

Hannah is right. I do shy away from the truth. Has my relationship with Dina suffered because I was too stubborn to see her perspective? All this time, I felt like my honesty was driving people away, but maybe it was my refusal to ask for their truths.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. It was really unprofessional, but beyond that, it was just a crappy way to treat you. I just… Not to make excuses, because it’s totally on me, but I’m determined to make my parents proud of me. Even if they can’t see me, believing that they’d be proud has been a driving force in my life. Accepting a job because someone else used their position to get it for me… that didn’t sit right with me. I was afraid they wouldn’t be proud.”

He finishes chewing a bit of fried rice, then wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Angel… I wouldn’t go behind your back like that. I know it was stupid of me to not say anything, but it won’t happen again.” He sets the napkin on the table, not breaking eye contact. “If you’ll let me prove it to you.”

I nod, giving him a closed-mouth smile because I’m chewing an egg roll. That’s all that needs to be said about the situation.

The rest of our meal passes with laughter, light conversation, and Damian sneaking Genie pieces of food, thinking I didn’t notice. I’ll let that slide because I love seeing them bond.

Damian takes the dishes inside while I stay on the balcony, soaking in the magnificent view. For all the chaos and stress that happens within these city limits, from up this high, it seems like a well-choreographed dance, timed in sync with the rhythm of street lights and honking horns. The waves crash against the harbour front at a steady pace, and if you listen hard enough, you can hear the water over the unrelenting wind.

When enough time has passed, I head back inside, hoping Damian is finished with cleanup, and find Genie washing a plate, chasing it around the floor. Damian looks at me with a grimace. I can’t help but laugh.

“She has you figured out.”

He dries his hand on a dish towel hanging from the stove, then walks toward me. “I can’t say no to her smile. So, what now?”

With Damian standing inches away, all I want to do is say the things that can’t be said. I stand on my tippy toes, grab two handfuls of his shirt, and pull his face to my level. The second I feel his lips on mine, all rational thought flees my mind. My self-control vanishes. Part of me expected him to hesitate or pull away, but it only takes him a split second to seize control.

He walks me backwards until my calves hit the edge of the couch and he eases me down without breaking his lips’ contact with mine. I don’t let go of his shirt. He’s smooth and gentle, but at the same time, our kiss feels raw and passionate, as if it’s saying everything we should have said so much sooner. I’m sorry. He’s sorry. I can trust him.

Can I trust him enough to have my heart? Time will tell, but I don’t think my heart is giving me a choice.

His body is hovering over mine and this could get out of hand quickly. Before it does, Damian pulls his head back, panting. Even though his body is pressing against me, the absence of his kiss makes me miss him with every cell of my body.

“They would be proud of you.” He holds his face over mine, giving me a chance to absorb his words.

My hands release the fabric they were clenching and fall to my sides. My chest is heaving, but now, all I can think about is my parents. About how the last time I got this absorbed in a guy, the worst day of my life happened. Then, as I picked up the pieces, he tossed me aside and moved on. I know sixteen-year-old boys and Damian aren’t in the same category, but it still gives me reason to slow things down. I shimmy myself out from underneath Damian, so he lifts himself to allow me up.

“Sorry if I killed the mood. I just realized I hadn’t said that earlier.” He sits on the off-white sofa, leaving a few inches between us.

“No, it’s fine. I just got a little freaked out.”

He reaches his hand over to hold mine. “What are you freaked out about?”

“All of this. Us. Giving my heart to someone else after it’s been locked up for so long. I’m afraid you’ll get tired of me because, trust me, everyone does eventually. Before this goes anywhere, I need you to understand, I’ll never compromise who I am, so if that’s going to bother you someday, it’s better for both of us if you tell me now.” Wow, sometimes the things I spew out even catch me off guard.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He leans over, bumping my shoulder with his. He’s smiling, but there’s something more in his expression.

“Please don’t tell me you’re a convicted felon.”

His smile morphs into a laugh, deepening the lines around his eyes. He’s beautiful when he laughs. “No. I mean, if I was caught for some stuff I did as a teenager, I guess I could be, but no.” He tilts his head so his lips are near my ear and whispers, “I really like you, Angel, and I can’t imagine that ever changing.”

It’s hard for me to imagine his feelings toward me not changing. Some couples grow closer over time, whereas others drift apart. Resent each other. Regret giving someone else time they can never get back. There’s no guarantee that this is going to end well.

Yet, I’m still willing to try because there’s also no guarantee it will end at all.

Then Damian lobs more surprising words at me. “Will you come back to work on Tuesday?”