Chapter 8
EIGHT
Jess
“You’re still up?” I find Damian sprawled out on the sectional, flipping through channels in the darkened great room when I come down the stairs from Britain’s bedroom. I planned to wait till Brit was asleep to sneak out, but after a deep chat and cry session about Liam, she told me to go. Probably because I was the one falling asleep.
He gives me a somber smile and says, “Yeah. Wanna watch something?” Then pats the seat beside him expectantly. Yes.
“Little bit. I’m tired,” I say, then yawn as I walk around to sit beside him, setting the baby monitor on the coffee table first.
With Britain in bed for the night and the girls sleeping over at Sandy’s, I don’t give him the two seat buffer I normally would. This time, I take the seat right next to him. And when he looks at me, he smiles with a lot less sadness .
“You’re taking this really well…” I note, tilting my head to examine him. He almost seems unbothered(?). I don’t know if I’d take it that far, but maybe he’s finally getting over Britain.
“Yeah. I guess it just feels like things are changing, but not necessarily for the worse. Can’t really explain it right now.” I just nod at his response. I can’t say I agree with that sentiment. Things are definitely changing, but in my case, all things are trending worse .
I’m happy for him, though, for his engagement. For turning over a new leaf with Brit. Congrats on turning the corner, Damian. I don’t say anything, though. I just turn to face the tv screen.
Without even consciously thinking about it, my head drops to his shoulder while he keeps scrolling. When he spots Casino playing, he doesn’t even have to ask, he chooses it and we both settle in. My head rests heavily on his shoulder, while his hand is splayed across my leg. It’s neither intimate or romantic, just comfortable. In every way. (Or maybe that’s just the exhaustion talking.)
He squeezes my leg to get my attention and says, “Come, sit here,” patting the floor in front of him.
“It’s been a long day, I know,” he says when I just look at him confused. But I don’t really question, I just stand, zombie-like, then take a seat cross-legged on the floor in front of him.
With his legs on either side of me, he scoots forward and moves his hands to my neck. Oh, fuck me. His thumbs dig deep into my tense muscles as he pushes, then drags them down my spine, willing me to close my eyes and let go.
When he runs his hands into my hair, pushing his thumbs against my skull behind my ears, I think I moan involuntarily. Fuck , I should be embarrassed, but with Damian, I don’t care.
He stops abruptly, and I whine, “ Whhhyyy are you stopp ing ?”
“You should go to sleep, it’s late,” he says a bit brusquely. But he’s right.
Lazily, I crawl to a standing position and stretch my hands over my head, bringing my t-shirt up to my rib cage. As I do, Damian makes a choking sound.
“Are you okay?” I turn back to look at him where he has a water bottle halfway to his lips.
“Went down wrong.” I just nod, but I don’t move to go to my room just yet.
There’s something weird happening. I know I should go to bed, but my legs feel like they’re stuck in concrete. And I don’t want to go. And lay in bed alone. And maybe have to think about my life. I’d rather stay here…with him. Where it’s safe.
And the fact that neither one of us is moving now is only heightening the awkwardness.
Finally Damian breaks. “What’s wrong?”
A single tear slips out before I can respond and Damian’s on his feet in a heartbeat, warm arms surrounding me. He’s a great hugger.
There’s tears, but I’m not exactly crying. I’m also not exactly sad about Tommy as much as I’m just sad about my life. About my daughter’s life. About Eden’s family. I always dreamt of having that big family. With lots of kids running around and aunts and uncles. I always dreamt of getting the family I never had. And now, I know I’ll never have it. At least not how I pl anned. Not with Tommy. And not anytime soon. And that’s what's making me sad.
After a couple minutes of Damian just being present (he doesn’t push me to talk, doesn’t even move), he says, “Bed time. It’s hard right this second, but not for long, okay?”
I nod against his chest and then he turns to lead me to my room, snagging the baby monitor off the coffee table as he does.
“You’re a good friend, Damian.” Maybe even the best. He’s the only person I can be totally honest with right now.
Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever lied to Damian before…
“I know,” he says sort of smugly, making me laugh. Cocky son of a bitch, and I elbow him right in his abdominals.
“Oof!” He fakes a laugh and injury.
When we get to the door to my room, I turn towards him to say goodnight. But again, the words don’t come. I push down the reason I’m speechless. I push that shit as far away from my mind as possible lest the words slip out against my will. I physically swallow them down, because this , what’s happening right now, well it’s not supposed to.
He’s my best friend’s ex-husband. He’s my husband’s best friend. He’s engaged for fuck’s sake. But all of that…and still there’s a magnetism to him.
Probably because he’s somehow become my closest friend with Brit in California. Probably because I know I can tell him the truth without judgment. And probably because I’m just a lonely fuck. That’s it. That’s the real reason.
So instead of saying something I’ll regret, I tell him the partial truth. “I just don’t want to be alone…at least not right now, not yet.” When our eyes meet, he knows. He sees it all .
He leans forward, and with a hand cradling the back of my head, he gives me a gentle forehead kiss. Somehow it amplifies this broken-hearted feeling instead of comforting it, but I don’t say anything.
“I can’t, Jess,” he says quietly. Oh god. No, of course he can’t.
“I-I didn’t mean it like that, Damian. I was just…” It’s pointless to explain when even I don’t know what the fuck I’m thinking. “Nevermind. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And without waiting for his reply, I slip into the room, being careful to shut the door slowly and quietly to let Eden keep sleeping.
Damian’s large hand reaches out before the door can click shut, though, slipping into the room with me and causing my breath to catch.
“I’ll stay for a little bit,” he whispers and relief floods me.
Without another word, we both settle onto the bed, already in sweats and pjs. We lay back in tandem and then his hand reaches out for mine. I slip my hand against his, and he holds it, simultaneously holding me together without even knowing it.
I take one long blink. Then another.
His hand squeezes mine and the simple gesture reassures me, soothes me. It’s my permission slip to step away from the living world.
On the next long blink, I fall hard into a dream that’s equal parts fantasy and nightmare.
It’s still dark out when I wake up to the sounds of gentle, rhythmic breathing. It takes me a second for my mind to wade through the sleepy haze and realize it’s not the sound of Tommy’s erratic snoring, but Damian’s deep inhales and relaxed exhales.
The panic doesn’t come for me. The wrongness doesn’t yell at me to get up and run. It’s just comfort. He stayed. Because he knew I needed it. I needed him. Brit would have done the same if roles were reversed. But it’s not Brit, because I can’t tell her just yet. She has enough to deal with as it is.
When I open my eyes, I realize just how close we are. We aren’t cuddling, but our hands are still clasped and we’re lying, facing each other. Like a sixth sense, Damian’s breathing falters and his eyes flutter open.
“I’m sorry,” I say after it’s been a couple seconds of us staring at each other. Both of us are trying to make sense of this . “I know you didn’t want to stay…”
“Shh…” He pulls me in closer, into a hug that melts away any residual discomfort. “Let’s go make coffee before Eden and Brit wake up, yeah?” I nod against him and we both roll away from each other to head towards the kitchen.
In the light of (almost) day, this feels different than I expected. It doesn’t feel like I just spent the night in bed with someone I shouldn’t have. It feels exceedingly normal.
Damian moves around the kitchen, pulling out coffee mugs and turning on the Nespresso machine while I pull out a stool at the kitchen island to wait. We occasionally make eye contact and every time results in a little half smile from me or a one-dimpled grin from him.
He makes my coffee first, then his, then takes a seat at the stool beside me .
“So…” he starts, but I don’t want (read: can’t want) to see where this leads.
Clearing my throat abruptly, I say, “I won’t tell anyone about last night if you don’t. I know you were just helping me out. As a friend.” He stares at me blankly, then nods.
He takes a sip of his coffee. Then another. And we both sit there silently watching as the sun starts to rise over the lake.
This place is definitely an acquired taste, but watching the sun crest over the golden hills, bathing the kitchen in orange and violet light, I can see myself quickly acclimating and acquiring said taste. I didn’t even know a landscape like this existed. It’s foreign, yes, but I think there’s something beautiful about it. In the same way items, places, even people are overlooked for their normality, too.
If you dig, examine, look harder at what’s actually happening, you’ll see the beauty. The possibilities. The dependability in the normal. I sigh, and it pulls Damian’s attention away from the picture windows.
This, my friendship with him, is one of those things, too. Beautiful.
Beautiful. That word doesn’t get tossed around nearly enough- I put an abrupt stop to the memory playing in my mind. Nope, I’m not reliving that night. Not here, not now.
When Eden starts babbling on the baby monitor, I excuse myself to get her. I do a quick diaper change and when we get back to the kitchen, Damian’s outside on the phone, pacing, like his CEO switch got flipped on.
That’s okay. Because nothing more needs to be said or done about this. Period. It was just me needing comfort, and he was there to gi ve it. The end. Fin. (I don’t know if I’m convincing you or myself right now.)
When Brit finally comes down, I switch into best friend support mode.
I try to steer the conversation away from Liam seeing as last night ended in tears. Today, I’m taking a different approach: 1. Amp Brit up. 2. Hype up the new guy. 3. Don’t talk about Liam. In that order.
The door bell ringing surprises all of us, but none so more than me when Brit let’s in a fucking centerfold, panty dropper of a man. Tall-dark-and-cut traipses into her entryway with a bouquet of flowers and a bakery box.
“Stare much, Jess?” I close my hanging open mouth at Damian calling me out. I was so awestruck, I didn’t even hear him come in.
“It’s just not what I was expecting…” I pick up Eden out of her high chair to walk towards the living room where I have a better view of the scene unfolding before me. Damian follows.
I watch as the woman who couldn’t be any more broken, goes up on her tip toes and gets a thorough tongue fucking from the man, whom I’m assuming is Matthias. (Her new beau.)
It’s the burn of jealousy at the back of my throat that surprises me, too. Fuck. If this is making me feel some sort of way, this must be decimating Damian. When I look at him briefly, he’s looking at me uncomfortably.
I clear my throat to get Brit’s attention and to protect my friend who probably never needed to see this.
Brit turns back to her sheepish self when she realizes we’re in the liv ing room with a clear view of the unfolding lust fest.
She does a quick, yet awkward introduction before pulling Matthias back out the front door.
I immediately turn to Damian, “I’m sorry you had to see that. You must be feeling?—”
He puts a hand up and rears back slightly, “You have no clue what I’m feeling, Jess. No fucking clue.” So that’s a yes. He must be feeling all kinds of jealousy and hurt over what just unfolded.
And then it gets worse.
When we hear Britain moan through the front door, my stomach turns queasy for him. This is killing him. I know it.
Thankfully it ends a few minutes later when Brit floats back into the house on a high I would honestly kill for. She even has this stupid, euphoric-looking smile plastered all over her face. I mirror the smile as best I can because she deserves this, regardless of whatever is happening on this side of the living room. My jealousy, Damian’s unrequited love. None of that matters right now.
“What?” she asks when no one says anything.
I laugh to break the moment and say, “Girrlll, if you don’t want him, I do.” Damian immediately shoots me a look I can’t entirely discern, but it says something along the lines of traitor . I feel that pang of guilt in my stomach, but keep up the act of being the excited and supportive friend. For Brit.
Brit immediately gives a lackluster, non-apologetic apology to Damian, “Sorry you had to see that, Damian.” He quickly looks at me where I’m smiling, fakely.
Then turning to Brit he says, “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. Probably could’ve gone the rest of my life without seeing that.” He gives me a disappo inted look, avoiding eye contact with Brit, then stalks away, straight to the back porch.
The pang in my gut turns to a full piercing. Even when I brush Damian off and tell Brit not to worry about him, I’m still feeling like shit. And I’m not quite sure why. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s so hurt and pissed at Brit…or at me.