Last Summer(78)

“One water coming up.”

“Water?” Damien lifts his brows and Ella gives him a slight smile.

“There’s so much I have to tell you.” She smooths his white shirt with a shaking hand.

Damien stills her hand, holding it to his chest. “You’re nervous.”

She nods.

“Me too,” he says with a hint of a smile.

“You’re never nervous.”

“This time I am.” He lets go of her hand and drinks his water. “Why’d you have me come here? We could have met at home.”

Home. Her heart flutters with hope. “I know this will seem over the top, but I have a point. I got us a room. Will you come up with me?”

“Ella, I . . .” He turns his face away, taps a finger on the bar before looking at her again. “I would love nothing more than to take you upstairs and make love with you, but I . . .” He shakes his head, eyes sad. “I can’t.”

“Oh, no! That’s not what I meant,” she exclaims, flustered. “I want to talk, Damien, that’s all. No expectations. I brought us here because I’m hoping we can start over, for real this time. No memory manipulation involved.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding slowly.

“Great.” Ella smiles. She gathers her clutch and keycard off the bar and leads them to the bank of elevators. As they walk, Damien’s fingertips skim the curve of her lower back, sending a current through her, arousing her. But once they step inside the elevator and the doors slide closed, he pockets his hands. He even maintains a polite distance between them and Ella has to fight the impulse to move closer.

She presses the button to their floor and, once they’re there, swipes the keycard against the door latch panel.

“This is the same room,” Damien observes when they walk into the suite.

“You remembered.”

He shrugs off his jacket. Folding it lengthwise, he lays it on the king bed and looks at Ella. Their eyes catch, and he says, “I remember everything about the night we met.”

Ella’s entire body warms. “Me too,” she whispers.

“I . . . ah . . .” He glances at his watch. “My flight leaves at seven.”

“Seven?” She looks at the clock. He’s only giving them three hours. Two until he has to return to the airport. She was hoping he’d spend the night with her.

“Early morning meeting.” He looks at her apologetically.

“Oh, okay. So . . . how’s work?” she asks, hating how she feels awkward around her own husband.

He walks to the window, looks down at the Strip. “Fine.”

“The investigation?”

“Over,” he says, turning back to her. “Thank god.”

“Oh! That’s great.” She wishes she’d known. She would have wanted to be there with him to celebrate. “What did you find out? That’s okay if you can’t tell me. Corporate confidentiality and all that. I get it.” She crosses her arms.

He rubs the back of his neck, lets his arm fall to his side. “I want to tell you, but—”

“Will you tell me why your dad wants to put you out of business?” she blurts. “Will you tell me why you didn’t invite them to our wedding or call them on Christmas? Why don’t they ever call you on your birthday?”

“Ella,” he says, slightly irritated.

“I’m sorry.” She pushes out a breath. “That’s not how I wanted to start this.” She takes a deep breath and refocuses. “There are two things about me I want to share with you. One of them I should have told you when we started dating.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asks curiously when she pauses.

“After seeing the way my mom treated my dad—she was way too honest about her feelings and it destroyed them—I was scared. I thought if I was honest with you, it would tear us apart. Now I’m hoping my honesty will do the opposite. Bring us closer together.”

Damien slides his hands into his pockets. “All right. I’m listening.”

“I wasn’t truthful when you first asked if I wanted kids. You told me you didn’t, and I was afraid that if I said I did, you wouldn’t want to be with me. I had already fallen in love with you. I guess I thought I could give up my dream of having kids if it meant I could spend the rest of my life with you.”

“But you didn’t give it up. You still want kids.”

“I do, and I need to tell you why. Do you remember me telling you about my friend Grace?”

“The one who committed suicide?”

“Yes. This probably sounds silly, but we used to play house when we were little. We’d made a pact that when we grew up, we’d name our daughters after each other. I’ve never told anyone, but Grace left me a suicide note. I found it under my pillow. She asked if I remembered our pact. She then wrote, and I quote: ‘Please name your first daughter after me so that I can go knowing you’ll never forget me.’

“I could never forget Grace. But I felt so guilty about what happened, and I’ve always wanted to fulfill her wish.”

Ella inhales a shaky breath and she feels tears glide down her cheeks.

“El,” Damien says, his voice full of compassion. Coming over to her, he cups her cheek and wipes away the moisture with his thumb. She leans into his hand. It feels so good to have him touch her again. His mouth parts and she holds up a finger.