Chapter 13 The Puppet
THE PUPPET
DAMON
I pace back and forth in front of the entrance to Manning Park.
I’ve been pacing a lot these days. This was a stupid idea.
Why am I even here? I don’t need this. I don’t need her.
I don’t even know her. She could be a spy for the tabloids.
She could be trying to get close to me just to milk me for personal details.
Details that can end up on the front page of Star.
A dog barks in the distance, and I cringe.
I should leave. I should turn around and head back to my condo. My empty condo. Jesus, I can’t believe this. I can’t believe that I’m missing the opportunity to meet Emery’s parents. Missing the chance to show them just how much I love their daughter.
No. Don’t do that.
I kick myself for my train of thought. I need to pull it together.
I can’t feel jealous. Jealousy ruins these types of arrangements.
Jealousy is what destroyed Quin and me the last time.
It’s the reason Alison had to choose. It’s the reason I was alone.
It’s the reason why every goddamn thing fell apart.
How does Quin do it? He seems to be confident, so sure that Emery, despite her relationship with me, also loves him. Is he wired differently than me? Is there some molecule or atom in my genetic makeup that’s missing? Or am I simply broken? I’m leaning toward the latter.
Broken and busted and not worth the trouble.
Emery’s voice replays in my head. I love you.
I love you. I love you. Fuck! It needs to be enough.
A part of her needs to be enough. I can’t ruin this.
I can’t spoil such a beautiful thing. But I will spoil it.
I’ll incinerate the best thing that’s ever happened to me if I continue to keep all of these worthless emotions bottled up.
Damn it.
With a sense of determination, I slide on a pair of sunglasses and march into the park toward the woman donning a lime green rain jacket. Must she always be so loud? Sage whips her little head around as I approach her, a knowing smirk on her face.
“Well, well, well, look who decided to join us.”
Bones runs up to Sage with a tennis ball, and she picks it up, tossing it down the field.
I lift a brow. “Nice arm.”
She chuckles, watching in admiration as Bones speeds down the park. “I was a varsity pitcher in high school. Clearly, my muscle memory is phenomenal.” She glances at me. “Why are you wearing sunglasses? It’s forty-five and overcast.”
I roll my eyes, thankfully she can’t see it, otherwise, I’m sure she’d spit out some sassy remark and hurt my ego. “Seeing as how you always dress like a highlighter, and I don’t want to be noticed by the pap, I figured this was my best line of defense.”
Sage snorts. “Yeah, as if in the great borough of Manhattan the paparazzi don’t have anything better to do than follow around a washed-up business mogul.”
My jaw slightly gaps at her insult. “Washed up? I’m not—”
She throws a relatively aggressive elbow into my side.
“Relax, it was a joke. But seriously, do you honestly think you’re interesting enough to be followed around?
This city is littered with influencers, actors, and singers, all of whom probably have a way bigger fan base than you.
” She shrugs. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. ”
I glare at her as she tosses the ball again. “You’re kind of an asshole, has anyone told you that before?”
Sage shrugs, unfazed by my comment. “I’ve been called worse.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I mutter, nearly knocked off my feet as a muddy Bones charges toward me and lays down on top of my thousand-dollar custom-made boots. Nice. “Your dog is ruining my shoes.”
She grins down and pats Bones’s head. “Good boy.”
“Dick,” I toss at her, scowling.
“Princess,” she bites back, picking up the ball. With a stretch, she nods toward a nearby bench. “I need to sit for a bit. Chronic fatigue is a bitch.” She pauses, a playful gleam in her eyes. “Will your ass be okay sitting on a dirty New York City bench? Or will its insurance premium skyrocket?”
“I don’t know why I came here,” I say, sulking as I mindlessly follow her to the grimy wooden bench. “Clearly it wasn’t for the charming company.”
Bones settles by Sage’s feet as we sit down. She angles herself toward me, head tilted. “You’re here because you need to talk. So? Talk.”
My body physically clams up. How do I even start? How do I tell her about the shitshow that’s my life? I can’t disclose it all. There are aspects of my miserable story that must remain hidden. But parts and pieces aren’t enough.
“Why don’t you start small,” Sage says, reading my mind. “What’s bothering you right now, at this moment?”
“Other than you?”
“Deflect all you want, Damon, but that’s not going to help you in the long run.”
I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck, unable to form the right words. “I…”
Sage sighs. “Listen, I know this is hard for you. You don’t know me very well, and you don’t trust me, which is fine.
But you clearly need to talk to someone, and you’re here, at the park, with me.
So, you’ve basically decided what you want.
Now you need to act.” Her voice grows stern. “What happened?”
I want to tell her. I want to tell someone. Anyone. But—
An idea sparks, and I pat myself on the back for my quick thinking.
Quick…but depressing. Swallowing, I take my phone out from my pocket and pull up my documents folder, selecting a file that could help me open up.
I bite my tongue in concentration, typing out all the information.
I double check the names are spelled correctly.
With a slight wince, I pass the phone to Sage.
Her eyes widen as she reads the contract. "Did you seriously just draft an NDA for me to sign?"
I shrug. "Yes, and now I can hold you legally liable if any of what I'm about to tell you ends up in next week's paper."
Sage frowns as she scrolls through the document. "How do you know my last name?"
I raise an eyebrow, amused by her na?véty. "Really? You think I didn't run a background check on you as soon as I got home from that first class? Cute. Really cute."
“You’re a low-key psycho.” With a resigned grunt, Sage swipes her finger across the screen and signs, and I feel a smidgen of relief. "There." She shoves the phone back into my hand. "Happy?"
I pocket my phone. "Yes."
"So?" Sage probes, tilting her head. "Spill the beans, you fucking lunatic."
With a deep breath, I close my eyes, steeling myself.
Then, like a dam about to burst, I flood her with the chaos of my life.
The trials and tribulations of my relationship with Emery.
With Quin. The secrets we're forced to keep.
I tell her about dinner with Emery's family.
About playing the role of the ‘friend’ in public.
Lastly, I tell how I've been banished to my condo for the next thirty-six hours and sentenced to solitary confinement.
Once I'm done ranting, Sage's jaw is practically on the ground.
"Ho-ly shit…I can see why you made me sign an NDA."
I offer a weak smile. "Yeah, it's a lot to take in."
Sage nods slowly. "Well, damn. That's...intense." Intense doesn't even begin to cover it. She chews on her bottom lip, intently studying my face before she says, “I’m confused about one thing, though.”
“Yeah?”
Sage’s posture straightens, and I have a feeling the therapist has clocked in. “You said that Emery told you to stay for dinner, but then you said you feel like you’ve been quote-unquote banished. How can you be banished if she literally asked you to stay?”
My jaw tightens. “I—”
“It seems to me that you kind of banished yourself, no?” Her head cocks to the side. “That’s called self-sabotage.”
My gut clenches.
"I don’t…"
“Do you know why some people are prone to self-sabotaging their relationships?”
I sigh. “No, but I assume you’re about to tell me.”
Sage ignores my clipped tone. “Self-sabotage often stems from deep-seated fears and insecurities. It's a way for us to protect ourselves from potential hurt or rejection, even if it means sabotaging our own happiness in the process." Her clinical gaze meets mine. “Have you been hurt before?”
I don’t need to reply. She sees it right away.
She clicks her tongue. “Ouch, that bad, huh?”
“Worse than you can imagine,” I mumble, guilt settling in the pit of my stomach as I hang my head. “I…” My gaze slowly flits toward Sage, my voice raw. “I just want to feel like a priority. Is that too much to ask for?”
“What makes you think you’re not?” she asks.
“Based on what you’ve told me, it seems as though Emery loves you and cares about you.
Your…relationship isn’t…normal, let’s say.
But there are three of you. If you want to be someone’s top priority, their only priority, then maybe this type of relationship isn’t suited for you. ”
Anger bursts inside me. “What are you saying? That I should leave her?! That I should give up? Emery is the one good thing in my life. She’s the reason why I wake up every goddamn day. She’s—”
“The entire source of your happiness,” she muses, shaking her head in disapproval. “Well, there you go. There’s your problem.”
I glower at her. “My problem?”
“You can’t rely on another person for your own happiness, Damon.
That is so unhealthy. And kind of toxic.
” She sighs, noticing my confusion. “If every single one of your emotions is dependent on the behavior of another person, you’ll never be your own man.
You’ll be like a sad little puppet. Your strings at the mercy of someone else.
And if you think about it, that’s pretty anxiety-inducing, isn’t it? ”
“Okay, and what? What am I supposed to do with that?”
Sage leans back on the bench, crossing her arms as she considers her next words carefully. "You need to learn to find happiness within yourself. Emery can't be responsible for your entire emotional well-being.”
I frown, the idea of relying solely on myself for happiness feeling daunting and unfamiliar. "But how do I do that?"
Sage shrugs. “I don’t know. Find a hobby.
Start a business. Do something that’s solely yours.
Something that brings you joy.” She fishes out her phone and opens the photo app.
She taps on an image and turns the screen toward me.
“I make mugs for a living. Sell ‘em on Etsy.” She scrolls through the various images of 3D mugs.
Dragonflies. Turtles. A couple of moths.
All painted in pastels with flakes of gold and silver embellishments. “Cool, huh?”
I nod slowly.
“What are your hobbies? What do you like to do?” She smirks. “Other than act like a total tool.”
“I paint,” I mumble, barely audible.
She blinks. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”
“I paint, okay?” I say through my teeth. “I like to paint.”
“Ahh…” She grins. “Now the whole art class thing is starting to make sense.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
“So, open a gallery,” she suggests casually. “Easy peasy.”
I scoff. “A gallery? I can’t just open a gallery. I—”
“And why not?” She crosses her arms. “You’re loaded and have the talent. Do it. Make it your goal for this year.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, my face slightly burning. “A gallery? With my painting on display? No way. That’s absurd. It’s a hobby, Sage. Plus, I barely have any finished pieces.”
“Maybe they are finished,” she says as Bones stirs at our feet, nudging Sage's hand with his nose as if to say it's time to move on. "That’s my cue.” She stands up, brushing off her pants. "I gotta go home and feed the beast, but I’ll see you next week. Art class?”
I nod. She’s always got me fucking nodding.
She smiles, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "Don’t sulk too much tonight, okay? Keep yourself busy. Paint, if you can. You got this, princess."
I roll my eyes, but there's a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of my lips. "Goodbye.” I pause. “Asshole."
With one last laugh, Sage gives my shoulder a playful shove before turning to leave, Bones trotting by her side.
I sit on the bench for what feels like hours after she departs, repeating two questions in my head.
What makes me happy? What brings me joy?
I find no answers.
Not yet.