Chapter 27 #2
Chewing on it, I reach for a bottle of water in the refrigerator when my doorbell rings.
I turn to stone. Then I swallow quickly, move fast around the kitchen island, and sweep my phone off the countertop.
No one has called me or sent me a message to tell me they’d show up at my door.
I move quickly to the window and try to look outside. The man is too close to the door and out of my line of sight.
My heart races as I step out of the apartment, enter the foyer, and check the person through the peephole.
I recognize one of Damon’s men.
It’s the one who guarded my street for the longest. The one who likes my cupcakes.
I open the door.
“Hi,” I say, hugging myself.
He hears gloves, a short winter coat, and boots. His breath instantly becomes white steam.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, noticing the envelope in his hand.
“Everything’s fine. He wanted you to have this.”
I feel the cold twice as hard.
Wanted?
As in the past tense?
As in what the fuck is this?
“Is he all right?” I ask, my heart shaking against my ribcage.
“Yes.”
He shoves the envelope into my hand and turns around to leave.
“Wait a minute. I have cupcakes. You like cupcakes, don’t you?”
He’s down two steps when he looks up and stops.
“Yes.”
“Wait here.”
I pull back and run inside my place. Moments later, I head to the door with a gift box and two cupcakes inside.
I open the door and see no one. A gust of wind almost topples me over.
“Fuck,” I say, my teeth chattering. “Where did he go?”
A car door opens, and the man rushes up the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” he says, with a smile this time.
He takes the box from me.
“Thank you,” he adds before he gestures at my place.
“Read his note tonight.”
“I will.”
He moves away and enters his car but doesn’t pull away. He’s probably tasked to watch the street again.
Shivering, I turn around and go straight to the kitchen where I dropped the envelope on the counter.
I lift it and reach inside. Carefully, I pull out a handwritten note.
‘I’ll be a free man soon. Come pick me up on Friday at noon, only if you’re ready.’
My mouth falls open as a timid smile crawls up my lips.
“If I’m ready? Ready for what?”
LILA
Friday
The car drops me off not far from the gate.
Two of his men drove me here. One was the Cupcake Man. That’s how I like to call him. The other is Scar Man.
An old scar mars his left cheek.
They’re both waiting around the corner.
Staring at the gate, I stomp my feet against the snowy sidewalk.
It’s cold. The sky is dark blue, almost violet, and the temperature has dropped since I arrived.
Hands stuffed in my pockets, I tilt my chin down to protect it from the unforgiving cold and check the gate again. The only warm part of me, my heart, pumps in my chest furiously.
I never thought I’d live this day.
Damon is out. Out. Out. Out for good.
I can’t believe it.
I check the time on my watch.
He’s late.
Late for his own release.
I hope things are all right.
Anxious thoughts buzz in my head as tears prickle my eyes.
Man, it’s cold.
I wonder if anyone else is scheduled to walk out of that gate.
My ears perk up as I hear voices. Male voices. I’m so focused on that gate that my brow hurts.
The door finally opens, and a man dressed casually, his hair buzzed short, tilts his head, saying his goodbye to one of the guards.
He carries his belongings under his arm.
He’s dressed casually, nothing like the man I used to know. A pair of jeans, a winter jacket, boots.
He holds his head tilted down, yet walks firmly in my direction as if he knows I’m here.
It would be impossible to miss me.
There’s no one else on the entire street.
With wide strides, he closes the distance between us, and I can’t wait for his eyes to meet mine.
He eventually tilts his head up. His eyes smile first, then his lips.
My mouth glides into a grin as well.
He has a happy expression on his face.
Without a word, he closes the space between us and pulls me into his chest. His stubble rubs against my cheek.
We’re not kissing. He hugs me with such force that I lose my breath. And then he kisses me.
And I kiss him.
Laughing and crying happy tears at the same time.
He looks changed. He is charged.
He no longer carries the burden of the secret life he was leading down south and the memory of a woman who was part of his crazy life.
He is free, not only just released from jail, but also free from a life that led him to this place.
I like this new man a lot.
He has a new tattoo on his neck, and a fresh scar on his lip. Some things must’ve happened in prison as he predicted.
His teeth absorb the light between his arched lips.
“I missed you,” I say, absorbing his energy.
“I missed you, too,” he says, and then he presses his lips onto mine.
Our first kiss is cold like winter, our lips made of snow. But then we part our lips and kiss for real, and summer flows through our blood again, a hot night of July wrapping around our shoulders.
I break away from him, dizzy.
He takes my hand, and looks down.
“You look nice,” he says, after finishing looking me up and down. “I like your hair.”
It’s longer, and a shade lighter, more blonde than brown now.
He kisses me again, with the fervor of someone who can’t wait to taste his favorite meal.
“Your place or mine?” he asks.
I chuckle.
“Where is your place?”
He signals to a skyscraper in the distance.
“There’s a penthouse over there.”
I look at him, my eyes wet.
“What about my place? I have cupcakes and a Christmas tree. And a gift for you,’ I say, clenching my phone tight in my pocket.
His eyes soften.
“I know you’ve waited for me,” he says quietly as we freeze in the middle of the sidewalk, so many things wanting to happen first.
Getting used to each other again, filling the lost moments with our individual memories, catching up on all the trivia.
And then kissing each other.
Quenching the hunger in our bodies.
“ You knew I’d be waiting for you, even back then on that Halloween night. You always knew I’d be waiting for you. You just wanted to be cautious.”
“Maybe.”
“Or you wanted to test me. See whether I was convinced I wanted you or not.”
A pensive look slides over his face.
“You had your chance, Lila Skye. I thought it was only fair for you to have enough time and think about what you wanted.”
I lift my hand to his scruffy face and run my fingers along his jawline.
“You did the right thing. Although I couldn’t use that chance much since I was already yours.”
I push up onto my toes and kiss him again. He smells like fresh mint and winter.
“I need to get out of these clothes and take a shower first,” he says as if he knows what goes through my mind.
“Your men are around the corner.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and we walk down the street, his lips in my hair, telling little stories from those times when we couldn’t be together.
Later in the afternoon, we’re back at my place. We eat cupcakes in bed and drink wine, carols playing on TV.
His body is a work of art.
He’s spent all that time in jail doing pushups, I suspect. He’s muscular and has an edge to him he didn’t have before, but there’s also more softness in his heart.
Something I haven’t felt before.
“So, are you gonna show me my gift?” he asks as I lean my head against his chest.
I smile.
“Did you get me anything?” I ask with humor.
His answer arrives swiftly.
“I actually did. You want to see it?”
I push upright and look at him.
“It? What are you talking about?”
He slides to the edge of the bed and reaches for his jacket on the floor.
From inside his jacket, he extracts a jewelry box.
“Damon?”
He laughs.
“Lila? Will you marry me?” he asks, casually, opening the jewelry box and revealing a diamond ring.
I gasp.
“You are serious,” I murmur.
“What did I say in my note?”
“You weren’t very specific.”
“I did it on purpose,” he says, sliding the ring onto my finger.
It looks magnificent. I peer at it and then at him.
“We never talked about marriage.”
“Is that a yes?” he says, in a good mood.
“You’re unrelenting.”
He gives me a kiss, sliding a leg over me, locking me in.
“I’m not. I’m a man who lost two years he could’ve spent with the woman he loved because he made a mistake and married a different woman out of revenge.
I made a mistake once. I won’t do it again.
My lawyers have already drafted a prenup, so we won’t have to talk about money and properties, and who gets what if we split up.
You agree with it, sign on the dotted line, and we’re good.
And speaking about money. I’ve heard that Henrietta had a bad day in court. ”
His eyes move over my face as I broaden my smile.
“I thought I’d finish what you started.”
“You’re my kind of woman. The perfect villain. Although, I wouldn’t want a life of crime for you.”
“You might change your mind after you see this.”
I reach for the nightstand and pick up my phone. After scrolling for a few seconds, I show him the picture of that man.
“I thought you might want to see this. He was in court with Henrietta that day.”