The next morning, Melanie stretched like a contented cat and rolled over to see if she could persuade Damien to go another round before work.
The smile died on her lips. He zipped his pants and then stuffed both feet into his loafers.
Feeling a sudden chill, she pulled the covers over her naked, goose-bumped body. She shimmied herself up and sat against the headboard, clutching the sheets to her chest. “What’s the rush?”
Back muscles that she’d lovingly stroked just a few hours ago bunched together. He slowly turned to face her.
“I didn’t get a chance to speak last night.” The bed dipped when he sat on the edge. He grabbed her manicured hands. “Melanie, I … I don’t think we can continue this relationship. Not right now.” Sorrowful brown eyes bored into her misting eyes.
“M-may I ask why?”
“Of course, baby.” He softly stroked her hand.
Looking down at her hand, she pulled it away. He didn’t get to break it off while petting her like a sad puppy.
Hurt flashed like lightning in his eyes. His hands stretched closer, hovering an inch above hers. Squeezing his eyes shut, he curled his hand into a fist. Seconds ticked by before he opened his eyes again, but he didn’t look at her. He focused on the wall. “I don’t want to drag you and our relationship around while I’m trying to figure out things with Vanessa.”
“And what exactly are you trying to figure out?” She clutched the covers tighter to her chest. “That woman may or may not be pregnant with your children. If she is, you’ll take care of your responsibilities, and if you let me, I’ll help you.”
Melanie’s fingers tunneled through her hair. “If they aren’t your kids, we go back to the way we were. Either scenario, I can still be in your life, if you let me. I’m not going to begrudge you if Vanessa is pregnant with your babies. Be jealous, heck yes, but I’d never take it out on your kids. I’ll still love them because they are a part of you. I’ll always love every part of you.”
Damien twisted his head to face her. Determination and resolve was etched onto his face.
Nausea roiled in her stomach and spiked to her throat. She clenched her jaw to seal in the queasiness and agony.
“Mel, I know you mean what you say, and it means more to me than you’ll ever know. But I don’t want to hurt you anymore. If Vanessa has those kids, she will always be in my life. In our lives.”
Damien reached over, pulling Melanie close to his rapid heartbeat. “You deserve a man who’s all in, 100 percent.”
Melanie sniffled over her tears and breathed deeply. “But you said—” She hiccupped. “You said you got me. And you’d never let me go!” she yelled, banging her hands against his stone chest.
“Stop it!” He tried to contain her pounding fists.
But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Damien was giving up already. Why wouldn’t he fight for them?
But most importantly, why was she fighting for him? Why was she always the one to fight? Something inside of her twisted, snapped, and then broke. Her head drooped like a flower without water or sunlight.
Laying her head on his chest, she listened closely. His heartbeat, albeit quick, didn’t sound like it was breaking. Although her flame of hope had dimmed, a flicker remained. She didn’t want to give up. God help her, she still wanted to give it one last try. “We can do this. We can survive this if we just try. Try for me, D,” she begged, grabbing his shirt, damp from tears. “Please, baby. Please try for me.”
Clasping the back of her neck, he kissed her forehead and whispered, “Don’t think for one second this is easy for me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” His cheek, wet with tears, slid against her face. “The hardest,” he whispered again, voice cracking.
The room temperature dropped from a slight chill to freezing. The flicker of hope extinguished. He didn’t want her anymore. He claimed he loved her, but love shouldn’t hurt. Love should be bright and buoyant and blissful. People who loved each other talked and worked through their problems. This wasn’t love. Not true love. It was cold, cruel, and callous.
She clenched her jaw to stop fresh tears from spilling. She would not cry over him. Not ever again.
Damien scanned her face, his expression changing from remorse to fear.
“You’re a grown man, you’ve made up your mind, and I can’t convince you otherwise. Now get out.”
“Mel, I … ”
“No. I’m done. I am so, so done.” Her eyes sought his. “I have laid my feelings out for you and the world to see. I’ve twisted myself inside and out. I didn’t want to admit it at first, but I moved my butt from Atlanta to New York just to be with you. And we weren’t even together. We were just friends.”
“I’m sorry—”
“No. Don’t say anything else. I haven’t finished.” She pointed to her chest. “I’ve waited half of my life for you to look at me. And when you finally did, my world changed. And I was happy. So damn happy.” Her voice splintered with emotions.
She took a deep breath to finish. “I won’t let you hurt me again. You’re absolutely right. You need to fix your life. But I won’t be around as a lover or friend while you dick around with Vanessa. Good luck and goodbye.”
“Shit.” He scratched his scruffy beard. “Maybe we should talk this over. I don’t want you out of my life. I just need to figure things out.”
“Too late. I won’t be a fool for you again.” She slid down to the overstuffed pillow, her back facing him.
His feet lightly dragged on the carpeted floor. She held her breath while he stood over the bed.
Swallowing the painful, achy lump in her throat, she forced herself to remain strong. “Don’t make this harder. Just … If you feel anything for me, then please leave.”
Damien laughed, but it was hollow, lifeless. “Feel anything? I love you, Melanie! Can’t you see I’m trying to protect you, make sure you live your life?”
“I didn’t ask for your protection, just your love.”
“And you have it.”
She shook her head, still facing the wall. “Your love isn’t big or strong enough to try. You’re just sitting there, accepting what life gives you. You’re not fighting for yourself, and you’re not fighting for me. I’m done talking,” she said between sniffles. “Leave.”
• • •
Damien stepped out of Melanie’s bedroom and felt the heat of Tiana’s death-ray glare. Those apartment walls were too damn thin.
Surprisingly, she didn’t say anything to him—directly, anyway. He did hear her yell, “Idiot!” as he was leaving. With every step he took down the outdoor stairs, his feet felt heavy and leaded. Pulled down by dead weight. Vanessa.
His palms were sweaty, his breathing erratic. Dark, large spots danced and clouded his vision. He bent over, palms on his knees, gasping for breath.
Am I having a heart attack?
No, he was too young and in shape for that. Maybe it was a panic attack. He sat, ass to step, and sucked in deep, measured breaths. The dark blue jeans did nothing to protect him from the cold seeping from the concrete step and penetrating his body. A freezing, glacial mass settled in his chest. Tilting his head toward the sky, he leaned back on his elbows and breathed deeply. There was no warmth from the sun that remained behind clouds.
Not that it mattered. Without Melanie, there was only coldness. His life was shit. He squeezed his eyes shut. He would never forget her trembling mouth. The tears spilling from her brown, anguished eyes. The hurt. God, the hurt look that made him feel as if he’d mowed over her heart with a monster truck.
In his line of work, publicity and sports, he had learned to trust his instincts. Instincts led him to score top clients and pitch award-winning stories. He’d been so hell-bent on doing the right thing that he hadn’t listened to his gut. And his instincts screamed that Vanessa was lying.
He couldn’t let Melanie go. He appreciated her willingness to stand by his side, but he needed to find the truth. The only way to do that was to ask some questions, and he knew an old friend who could help.
With a renewed purpose, he jumped from the steps, pulled out his phone, and made a call.