Last Summer(20)

“Everything all right?” she asks. Four clients have left PDN since January, in addition to Royal Gateway. Damien had said his trip to London last November was a waste. He wasn’t able to convince them to stay. He’s found the losses to be more than frustrating. They’re personal. Because each business has moved to CyberSeal, his father’s company.

“Not sure.” The lines between his brows deepen as he reads the memo, swearing as he closes his email and launches his music app. He drops one of his ear pods in Ella’s hand so that they can listen together. “I’ll deal with it later. Ready?”

“Yeah.” She plugs the pod in her ear and Damien brings up their Tuesday playlist, a mix of U2, Gang of Youths, and other alternative rock music that gets them fired up.

They run a seven-mile route through the city streets, making their way to the Embarcadero, where they follow the wharf. The air is damp but the sky clears as the sun breaks over the city skyline and spills its golden light.

As they run, Ella plots her day. She has to drive to Sacramento to interview the governor over lunch, and on her way back, she hopes to finally nail down the double interview with Emily Blunt and John Krasinski about their latest project. With any luck, she’ll be back in the city by dinner with Damien, maybe even surprise him at the office with Thai takeout. He’s been wound tight, working late hours and traveling almost nonstop trying to retain his clients.

They reach the final stretch on their route and head back up the hill toward home. Damien changes the playlist and Eminem blasts her ear.

“Really?” She rips out the pod, knowing it’ll immediately stop the music.

But Damien doesn’t stop. He picks up speed and Ella has to work to keep up with him. She hollers his name, but he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t slow down. The concrete between them expands and the music cuts out, her pod losing the connection with Damien’s phone. He’s a block ahead and Ella eases to a saner pace, letting him work off whatever’s steaming in his head. Besides, the last hill home is a killer.

By the time she rounds the corner to their building, Ella’s calves burn and her side cramps. Damien’s waiting outside, pacing the sidewalk to cool off.

“Lost you back there,” he says when he sees her.

“The hell, Damien?” She gasps, hands on knees, catching her breath. “What’s wrong with you?”

He has the audacity to look confused. Ella shakes her head, disappointed, and glances at her watch. It’s getting late and she needs to shower and get on the road. There isn’t time to get into it with him. There never seems to be enough time.

Ella fires him a dirty look, shoves open the building’s glass doors, and stomps through the lobby.

Damien follows her inside. She stabs the elevator button.

“Ella?” he asks, cautious.

Screw it. She’s so over him not opening up.

She turns on him. Even drenched in sweat and smelling like a gym locker, she finds him breathtakingly gorgeous. She could jump him in the lobby and not have a care in the world who walked by. Except right now she’s pissed.

“You ditched me. What’s up with you? Is this just about work or is something else going on?”

“You know there’s a lot going down.” His tone has softened. She doubts he’ll admit it, but he must realize his speed burst up the hill was a dick move.

“Then talk to me about it. Don’t shut me out. Or run off with my music. Eminem sucks, by the way.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

The elevator doors slide open and they step inside. Damien presses the button for their floor. “Can we talk about this later?” he suggests, staring at the panel of buttons.

“Let me guess. You’re not ready.”

“No. I have to get to work and you have to drive to Sacramento.”

“Do you realize it’s been four months?” His brow furrows and Ella gets into his space. The elevator isn’t small, but she makes sure he can’t look anywhere but at her.

“Four months, two weeks, and three days. That’s how long it’s been since we lost Simon. And we still haven’t talked about it. We haven’t talked about him.”

He rakes a hand through his damp hair. “No memories yet?”

“You know they haven’t come back. Not talking about it doesn’t help me. Or us,” she snaps. “I think you’ve had enough time to process. Don’t put off your grief. It only makes it worse.”

Damien grinds his jaw. She doesn’t care. She’s feeling punchy and her patience is at an end. She wants her memories back, and he’s the only one who can help her.

The elevator dings and the doors open. Ella leads the way into their apartment. She doesn’t stop until they’re in the master bathroom. She toes off her shoes and kicks them out of the way. Damien peels off his shirt. He watches her strip and turn on the shower, but he doesn’t say anything. Ella tests the water temperature, and he’s still silent. He removes his shoes and tugs down his shorts. He stands there with his cut abs and the indents on the sides of his glutes, and she wants to forget about being pissed and have hot sweaty sex with him on top of the double vanity. But a quickie won’t resolve her frustration with him. Why won’t he talk with her? What’s his deal? Why is he biting his tongue?

Biting his tongue.