Last Summer(17)

“Ella.” Damien edges toward her, corrals her in his arms. “You don’t need to cover up. You’ll always be beautiful to me.”

The familiar scent of him and the comfort of his arms—it’s all too much. She buries her face in his chest and falls apart. Damien, thankfully, just holds her.

After some time, Ella lifts her head. Her husband offers her a washcloth. She wipes her face. She hasn’t cried like that since . . . Well, she can’t recall since when. Damien’s dress shirt is drenched. Tears glisten on the inside corners of his eyes. He thumbs them off.

“It must be the hormones,” she excuses.

“It must be a lot of things.” Damien kisses her hair, pulls her into his chest again, and holds her even tighter. Like he’s afraid to let go, afraid to lose her.

Leaning back, he looks down at her and gently pushes damp hair away from her sticky face. “You good?”

Ella nods. “For now.”

“Join me for dinner?”

She nods again.

He kisses her softly on the lips. “Get dressed. I’ll meet you out there.”

Damien has set the dining table and dimmed the lights. Outside the wall of windows, the Golden Gate Bridge and, across the bay, Sausalito glitter against the darkness of night.

Damien uncorks a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. “Wine?”

“Small glass,” she says. She is still taking painkillers and doesn’t need to get loopy. She sits down to a plate of prime rib and blanched string beans. “Smells delicious.”

Damien joins her, dropping his napkin on his lap.

“How was work?” she asks. Such a normal question when everything is far from normal.

He looks at her and his mouth parts like he wants to say something. He hesitates.

Something’s wrong. “What is it?”

He sets down his utensils. “I have to fly to London in a couple of days.”

“Wait. What?”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Then don’t.” Why would he leave now? They lost a baby. She’s losing her mind. And they haven’t discussed either.

He loosens his tie and takes it off. Tosses it over the empty chair beside him. “We lost Royal Gateway.”

A credit card processing company. One of PDN’s larger UK clients.

“That’s your second client in a week,” Ella says, worried. Damien sure must be.

He cuts into his meat with force. “I meet with the CEO in a few days. I have to try and salvage the account.”

“You suspect something.”

“Two clients in a week after several years of perfect retention. That’s not coincidence.”

“You have to go,” she says, understanding. Business has called her away with little to no notice. An assignment comes in and Ella can find herself on a plane within several hours of Rebecca’s call. But she and Damien always came back to each other.

Damien lifts her hand and kisses the inside of her good wrist. Their eyes meet. “Will you be all right without me?”

“I’ll be fine.” She needs to be, for him. She doesn’t want to add to his worry any more than necessary.

His eyes brighten with an idea. “Come with me.”

She thinks of the flat in London. Walks along the Thames. Pies and mash. Exploring the shops at Camden Passage. It’s all so tempting. She shakes her head. “I’ll only be in the way. You’ll worry about me when you should be focused on your business.”

Damien nods, looking a little relieved. Staying home is the right choice.

“I’ll still worry about you, whether you’re with me or not.”

“I know. That’s why I’m okay with you going. We’ll wait until you get back to see the therapist.”

Damien’s withdrawal is immediate. He releases her hand and cuts into his steak, jabbing a bite into his mouth. She hears the fork scrape against his teeth.

“I can tell you don’t want to go. What’s wrong?”

His face shutters. “It’s a waste of time. Talking won’t bring Simon back.”

His words echo the thoughts she had earlier but hearing him speak them out loud hurts. She decides to hold off asking him about that night in the hospital. There’s something about his demeanor that stops her. It’ll only push him away. Years spent interviewing reluctant politicians and tight-lipped actors who relish their privacy have taught her well. Patience. Besides, Damien prefers to mull things over, take his time to process. He’ll talk, eventually. He always does.

Ella looks at her plate, appetite gone. She takes a steady breath.

“Hey.” Damien reaches for her hand again. “I tried therapy once.”

“With Anna?” she guesses.

He solemnly nods.

His first wife. A marriage straight out of college that ended in a divorce five years later.

He squeezes her hand. “I love you. But this is hard for me.”

“Losing Simon or me losing my memory of him?”

“Both, if I’m being honest. Can you be patient with me?” His voice catches on the last word.

She stands and Damien scoots back his chair. She crawls onto his lap. His arms snake around her. She cradles his jaw. “Yes, I can. But Davie said something last night that’s been bothering me.”