Chapter 16 #3
“No,” she quietly replies, and that vulnerable simp within me tries his damnedest to ignore the undertone of longing in that one simple word.
Are they trying for another child? Is that why she asked about her palm? Why her pulse quickened…
Something that feels a lot like jealousy churns in my solar plexus. Lighting up, I pull a long drag and let the smoke out on a discontented sigh of my own. Why is the thought of Vanna falling pregnant with his kid again, ripping apart the remnants of my soul? They’re fucking married!
“I was there that night… When you married him.” The words spill forth of their own volition. Perhaps I am a glutton for pain.
“I know.” Her voice is low and contemplative. She removes her hat and holds it against her lap, then runs her fingers through her long, dark hair.
I remember how beautiful she looked in her wedding dress and pagan-esque flower crown… My gaze drifts to the wedding band on her finger, and I swallow, another painful knot forming in my throat.
“So, you found?—”
“ True Love .” She turns to face me again. The look in her eyes, willing me to understand and accept something a large part of me refuses to fully. “Yes. I did.”
“Did you leave it behind?” I ask, though I know she isn’t simply talking about my lighter.
She reaches down into her purse and pulls out my old brass Zippo. “I kept it safe for you. I knew you’d be back someday.” She smiles, as if attempting to make light of the situation.
Knew… Or hoped?
Fear prevents me from asking out loud.
She playfully tosses the lighter back to me, and I catch it against my chest.
“I left it for you, to remind you of my promise. Of the things I said that night… That I would burn it all down… for you.”
Her eyes lower from mine, and she turns to look back out at the lake.
“I know why you left it.” I barely hear her whisper on the breeze that catches a few tendrils of her hair.
She lifts her face to the moon, and I can’t help but stare at her profile.
Such a lovely creature. Such a genuinely pure soul. It almost hurts to drink her in.
“I have no love for your husband, Vanna…but you…are another story entirely.”
“Damien…” she sighs my name for the first time in three long years, and something deep inside the dark hollow of my chest aches with a fierceness that nearly steals the breath from my lungs.
She turns to stare back at me. I wait, but the silence stretches on until hope shatters upon her next words.
“I should probably get back to the Gazebo before the hosts realize I’m not where they’re paying me to be.
If they haven’t noticed my absence already. ”
No…don’t go… “You’ll be paid regardless.”
Her brows knit together, prompting a confession.
“I may have strong-armed the mayor into convincing his wife to offer you this gig… It was my way of trying to help… Whilst orchestrating a little time with you, alone . Your husband, rather adamantly, I might add , mentioned some nonsense about staying away from you.” As if I’m capable!
“I’m sure he did.” She doesn’t seem angry. “He’s very protective.”
“ I’m quite familiar with the inclination .”
“Because you regret everything,” she says, rather pointedly.
“I won’t deny that… But…there is so much more, Vanna…”
“It’s not something we can overcome in one night,” she speaks rapidly, cutting me off as if she might dread all that needs to be said between us as much as I do. “Maybe I should go home. Thanks for arranging this.”
“Which part?”
She only smiles as she stands, but then asks, “What was the card you pulled earlier? The one you obviously didn’t want me to see.”
“ The Devil .”
She purses her lips for a moment, giving me a sympathetic look before she reaches out to place her hand on my shoulder. It takes everything in me not to react to her willing touch, but my heart races, nonetheless.
“You’re not the Devil, Damien,” she says, her words offering a comfort I’m not sure I deserve.
I don’t want to explain the real reason why pulling that card among the others in that spread upset me. It had nothing to do with the actual Devil at all.
“Are you certain?” I try to sound humorous.
“Your husband is convinced.” When she removes her hand from me, I close my eyes upon the loss.
“I want your forgiveness, Vanna,” I confess.
“I want to earn your forgiveness for everything I put you through. Everything I brought upon you. But I don’t want to hear those words from you until you truly mean them.
” I open my eyes to gaze up at her again. “I’ll know it when you do.”
She nods slowly, and when she finally speaks, her words are wrought with pain. “I’m glad…because I’m not prepared to offer that to you, yet. Not until you tell me the truth… And even then…”
When tears well up in her eyes, I fight the nearly overwhelming urge to jump up and hold her in my arms… But I wouldn’t dare touch her like that… Not yet.
I am sorry, Vanna… So, so fucking sorry…
She brushes her tears away from her cheeks impatiently, then grabs her purse, slipping it over her shoulder once again.
“There aren’t words able to express how badly you hurt us…” She barely manages a shaky whisper, and I hang my head in shame. Unable to meet her eyes, I stare instead at the engraved words on my Zippo. Without another word, she walks away from me.
Crushed by the overwhelming weight of my complete unworthiness of even being in her presence, I watch as she makes her way back toward the mansion, disappearing within the swaying branches of the weeping willow trees.
M ost of the lights are off when I step inside our home and quietly lock the deadbolt behind me.
Peering into the living room, I’m able to make out Dean and Ace asleep on the couch in the glow of the flatscreen above the mantle.
The credits of the movie they’ve fallen asleep to scroll by to the song ‘You’ll Be In My Heart’ by Phil Collins.
After slipping out of my boots, I tiptoe closer to the back of the leather couch and glance down at them.
Dean is asleep on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other hooked protectively around Ace, who is soundly sleeping half against his father’s side, half sprawled across his chest. Smiling at them, I fight the urge to gently run my fingers through Dean’s hair and brush those few unruly strands back.
It might wake him, though, and they look so peaceful right now.
Deciding to let them sleep, I walk quietly to the bedroom to change into my usual oversized t-shirt and shorts for bed.
While I hang up my dress in the closet, I wonder if Dean will be disappointed over my failure to bring up Legion’s leverage. He never actually asked me to, but was he hoping I would?
I make my way to my purse sitting on top of the dresser and pull out the tip jar tucked inside.
A one-hundred-dollar bill immediately catches my eye as I place the jar down.
There are quite a few more bills in here than I’d originally thought.
I unscrew the cap and reach inside to remove a small wad of hundreds tucked into the middle of a few fives and ones.
An even grand in tip money...
“Legion…” I sigh, thinking back on all that transpired tonight while I count out the rest of the cash.
He was the reason I was offered the gig in the first place.
He probably negotiated an offer I wouldn’t refuse to get me there.
Glancing at the witch hat I’d tossed into the armchair in the corner of the room, my thoughts wander back to the costume originally delivered to my home earlier today… Was Legion behind that detail, as well?
My heart beats a little faster as I recall the tattoo on his shoulder. The half-skull portrait of an old-school-style fortune teller. He’d told me the piece was in memory of his mother. He strongly implied they weren’t exactly the fondest of memories… Yet, he wanted me to dress the part tonight.
Realizing my hand somehow gravitated on its own to the base of my throat, I impatiently pull it away and snatch up the money he covertly added to my sad little tip-jar. Staring down at it, I can’t help but release a sorrowful sigh.
Oh, Legion…