Chapter 8
Light
“What do you mean I have to move out immediately?” I know how I look when asking this question. Incredulous. Dumbfounded.
Clearly, as Ralph is looking at me apologetically, his coffee cup poised at his lips before he slowly lowers it. His face scrunches up, alluding to the fact that what he is about to say won’t be good. My stomach drops as his words solidify that suspicion.
“I’m sorry, Sienna. Someone approached me to buy the house.
It’s an offer I couldn’t refuse. Not with Lisa’s college tuition coming up in a couple of months.
You know I have been struggling to find the money to cover it.
This offer is cash and covers her fees for the next two years and some.
It’s twice the value the house is worth. I couldn’t say no.”
I’m speechless. When Ralph knocked on my door ten minutes ago, this was the last conversation I expected we would have.
James and I found this place five years ago. Five years of memories. Good ones and bad. We were looking for our own house to buy when James fell ill. That plan permanently halted, and we continued renting from Ralph.
When James passed, I tortured myself by staying in this morbid shrine to all I had lost. But over time, it became easier.
While it was a house I moved into and shared with the love of my life, it was also where I learned how to sleep alone, how to appreciate the silence at night when all I was used to hearing before was snoring, and how to fix the stripped washer on the bathroom tap because there was no one else to do it.
It was where I learned how to be me without James.
And now I was being told I had to move immediately. If Ralph were a bad guy, it would be easier to dig my heels in and say this is unjust. But I have been to his house and had dinner with him and his family. Lisa called me Aunt Sienna, for god's sake.
“I wish things were different, but the new buyer was insistent that the property be vacated immediately,” Ralph hesitates before speaking again. “He has given you until tomorrow morning to be out.”
“You’re kidding!” The blood drains from my face as I look up at the clock on the wall.
After Damon brought me home late last night, I slept in. Out of the ordinary for me. I attribute it to the very unusual…sexual experience I had last night. Just thinking about it makes my ass tingle where I know a slight red mark resembling a handprint remains.
“It’s one in the afternoon now. How on earth am I going to pack up a whole house, my whole life, in a couple of hours? And I have to work tonight, Ralph. It's impossible.”
Before the tears I didn’t realize had started to well up got a chance to fall, or Ralph could utter another apology, a knock on the front door had both our gazes traveling there.
I wasn’t expecting anyone. But then I wasn’t expecting Ralph, and look how this day has turned out. Reluctantly, I get up.
Blinking my eyes a few times, I try to compose myself before getting to the door.
Opening it, however, lights a fire under the critters in my stomach, the tension from my conversation with Ralph morphing into something else. Briefly.
“Damon, what are you doing here?” I blink twice as if he were a mirage that would disappear with that action.
No such luck. Then again, blinking wouldn’t stand a chance against the invincible enigma that is Damon. I’m sure even the blind can see this man who is made of the very darkness their sight belongs to.
He remains standing there. In his suit. A different one to last night, but just as swoon-worthy.
Peering to the side, I see old Mrs. Bree next door, standing by the railing of her porch. Her eyes are glued to Damon as if he were the grim reaper himself, coming to take her away. Finally. I think she has been praying for it since her husband died.
“You left these.” He hands me my pair of work pants and my bag from my locker at the club—everything left at the scene of the crime.
I blush fiercely when thinking about why he would need to return my items in the first place.
“Um, thank you. I could have gotten them later.”
“Not really. Apparently, your phone has been ringing non-stop.” Damon's voice gives nothing away, so I can’t tell if he is irritated.
“Sorry. It was my landlord looking for me.” As if summoned, Ralph appears behind me sans a coffee cup.
“I’m really sorry, Sienna, but I need to go. Lisa needs me to take her to pick out a prom dress,” Ralph says to me while eyeing Damon suspiciously as he steps past him .
“I’m truly sorry about this situation. Call me later if you need help.” I don’t even have a chance to say goodbye, his figure retreating as if his house is on fire.
I wish it were. I instantly regret the thought and pray that karma doesn’t come for retribution.
“What’s wrong?” Damon’s question is contrasted by his tone, which sounds bored.
“Nothing,” I say quietly as I turn around to put the evidence of what happened last night on the side table by the front door.
Thoughts of how I will get the impossible done bubble to the surface, banishing the desire Damon elicits into the recesses.
Boxes. I need boxes. And tape. And paper wrapping for glassware. Bubble wrap would be better. How was I going to move the big stuff? Where was I moving everything to? I must look for somewhere immediately. What about my plants?
My eyes drift over to the colorful pot plants scattered around the living room, courtesy of my mystery man. My mystery man. What would become of him? Would he still drop notes off here? Notes someone else would read. Notes meant for me. Like the one this morning.
My little moonflower, blooming in the darkness, your poison, an addiction with no cure x
Another flower reference that I didn’t understand. I was busy looking up moonflowers when Ralph interrupted me. I was hoping the internet could shed some light on what the note meant. Shed some light! I almost laugh at the contradiction.
“If you lie to me again, your punishment will be more severe than that dished out last night. What’s wrong?” Damon has stepped forward and is now directly behind me as he asks his question again.
“I can’t come to work tonight,” I answer with this instead, turning around quickly. He is standing so close, and to create some distance, I step back, hitting my lower back on the table.
“Ow.” The wince accompanying the outcry of pain is shoved down too late, Damon's eyes zoning in and noticing everything.
“I would say I don’t bite, but that’s a lie. Get inside and tell me what's going on.” He steps past me, not waiting for an invitation, while I stand gaping at the back of him.
This day was turning into something from a movie.
Clamping my mouth shut, I close the door behind him and make my way to the kitchen, where Damon is helping himself to a cup of coffee, the percolator one of my best investments.
“So, about tonight…Can I swap out with Talia?”
“Done. Why? What's wrong?” Damon leans against my counter, casually sipping his coffee while my eyes follow every movement.
How did he manage to fit in everywhere? Even in my soon-to-be-ex quirky kitchen, against bright multicolored tiles that James hated and which are such a contrast to the man eyeing me like an eagle would its next meal.
Should I lie or tell him the truth? Lying might earn me a spanking, which sends a shiver down my spine, but it wouldn’t help me with the situation at hand. Sighing, I resort to the least sexy option, the truth.
“Ralph.” I point to the front door as if that helps explain who Ralph is. “Ralph told me I must be packed up and out by tomorrow morning, so I can’t do that if I am at work.”
Damon stares at me, and I smile, not sure exactly what else to do. We stand so long staring at each other that my cheeks start to ache from holding my smile.
All the while, Damon leans, and sips, and leans, while his dark gaze remains glued to my face.
Then, slowly, his hand disappears into his jacket pocket, reappearing with his phone. Without even looking at it, he dials a number, the phone slowly being brought up to his ear, eyes still locked with mine.
While the actions are slow and lazy, it is like watching a panther stretch out—deadly even in a restful state.
Someone answers on the other side, though I cannot hear what they say.
“Two.” Pause.
“Eight.” Pause.
“138 Terrace View.” Pause.
“Today.” End conversation.
“Now that that’s sorted, we have somewhere to be. Ready?”
The smile on my face has dropped, fallen to the floor, and shattered.
“What just happened?” I’m so confused, following behind him like a mutt while I wait for an answer.
He gets to the front door, hands me my bag, then opens my front door.
Two Ren’s moving vans pull up in front of the house as if perfectly timed.
The drivers exit the vehicles and open the back, where three men from each climb out—armed with boxes, bubble wrap, and stern expressions.
“Um, what’s going on?”
“We have somewhere we have to be while these guys pack up your stuff.” Damon grabs my hand and pulls me forward, shock making me compliant.
The men dip their heads in acknowledgment as they pass Damon, my head on a lollipop as I watch them disappear inside.
Damon leads us to his car, opening the passenger side door of his SUV before helping me in.
“Wait.” This one word stops him in his tracks, surprisingly. His hand remains poised on the door frame, ready to shut me in. His blank expression waits for me to elaborate.
“Everything is happening too fast. What's going on? Where is all my stuff going? And how did these guys get here so fast? I can’t just leave now. I have to find a place to stay. And what about my plants? They are…special to me.”
“No one will do anything to your plants. If they do, they answer to me. Okay?” I nod slowly but remember that he hasn’t answered the rest of my questions, the ‘hey’ I voice lost as he slams the car door.
I swivel in my seat to face him as he climbs in.