A few minutes later, Jade’s co-star, Craig, showed up. He was the ginger guy I’d hung out with during my last visit here—the one Damien had seen me photographed with on Facebook. Damien immediately gave me a look that signified he recognized him.
When Jade introduced them, Damien offered him a firm but reluctant handshake.
Craig looked over at me. “It’s so good to see you again, Chelsea. I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”
“I know. This was a surprise trip.” I smiled, squeezing Damien’s hand tighter.
Together, we were a lost cause.
After dinner, Damien whispered in my ear, “That guy keeps staring at you, even with me sitting right here.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Yes, he is. I’ve been watching him.”
He suddenly let go of my hand, got up, and headed toward the bathroom.
My phone buzzed.
There’s no one in the men’s room right now. Get in here.
I slowly opened the door. Damien was standing right there and immediately pulled me into the handicapped stall.
“What are you doing?”
“Marking my territory.”
“Are you gonna pee on me?” I joked.
“Only if you want me to.”
“I don’t.”
“I’ll do better than that,” he said, flipping me around and lifting my skirt. He let out a deep breath onto my neck as he pushed deeply into me. With each thrust, I became wetter for him.
Spontaneous sex with him always felt good, but this time felt better than I could ever remember. As he fucked me from behind against the bathroom stall, he had no clue that I was just as revved up by jealousy as he was.
We could hear the main bathroom door open. That didn’t stop our pace. In fact, whenever Damien and I were close to getting caught, it often made things more frantic. I opened my mouth into a silent scream as I came hard and fast. I could feel his hot cum shooting into me.
His hands were on each side of me locking me from behind against the stall. “I love when you clamp down on me like that with your pussy.”
“We’d better go before Jade and her friends figure out what we’re doing.”
“Fuck that. I hope they do.”
***
The following day, Damien had taken a walk down the street from Jade’s to pick up takeout for lunch. The three of us were going to hang out at the apartment until she had to leave for her evening show.
It was the first time Jade and I were left alone, and I had to ask, “So, last night at dinner, when I was coming out of the bathroom, what were you and Damien talking about?”
“He apologized for cornering me at the restaurant but said he needed to know my opinion. He said he knows you open up to me and that he figured I knew everything that was going on with you guys. I told him I did. Then he wanted my opinion on whether I felt that you were truly okay with the no-kids thing.”
I blew out a breath of frustration. “I’ve been through this with him.”
“I know, but he realizes that I know you better than anyone. He just wanted a second opinion to make sure that I didn’t think you were kidding yourself.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him that you are the most selfless person I know, but that I also know you wouldn’t do or say anything you don’t truly mean.”
“He said that after we figure out whether or not he’s gonna have heart surgery, he’s gonna get a vasectomy so that I don’t have to be on the pill forever.”
“God, that seems so final.”
“I know.”
“Do you have any doubts? You’d tell me, right?”
“Yes. I swear. I’m not gonna lie and say that it doesn’t make me sad, because it does, but I know how adamant he is. I can’t live without him, so I have to live with his decision.”
“Okay.”
When Jade hugged me, my eyes watered. It was the first time I’d actually cried thinking about not ever having babies with Damien; I vowed that it would be the last time I would cry over it.
The door opened, and he walked in carrying paper bags of Chinese food. I quickly rubbed my eyes, but it was too late. He’d noticed my tears.
Examining my face, he said, “Everything okay?”
“Yes. I promise. We were just talking, and I got a little emotional.”
Seeming doubtful, he looked over at Jade then at me. “Alright.”
***
Early that evening, Damien and I were walking hand in hand through SoHo when he said, “So, I’ve been keeping something from you.”
“Not again?” I teased.
“This is a good thing, my little wiseass.”
“What?”
“A friend of mine, who I met through an art forum, opened up a gallery here that’s dedicated to spray paint art. That’s why I wanted to come to this neighborhood before we left.”
“That’s so cool. Is that where we’re going now?”
“Yes, but that’s not all. I actually gave him one of my paintings.”
“It’s there?”
“Yup.”
“Which one?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
The gallery was small. Large canvases of spray paint art were mounted onto the brick interior walls. Faint jazz music played in the background.
“Let’s see if you can guess which one’s mine.”
We walked slowly through the gallery, stopping at each work of art. The images ranged from people to abstract shapes and colors.
“What is that?” I looked closer at the title of one piece in particular.
Le Nombril by Damien Hennessey.
“I guess I don’t have to guess anymore. This is it!” I tilted my head. “What is it?”
“Look closely.” He stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head. “It’s you.”
“Me? It just looks like a big swirly hole.” I suddenly felt hot. “That’s not my vagina, is it?”
His laughter vibrated against me. “Not that hole, baby, although, I could spray that all day long if you want. In fact, it would be my pleasure.” He guided me away from the canvas. “Step back.”
I finally saw it. “It’s my belly button. That’s right! You mentioned once that you’d painted it.”
“You are correct. That’s your belly button. My beautiful navel, otherwise known as Le Nombril. That’s the French term.”
“How did you manage to paint it?”
“Well, a long time ago, I did one from memory. You’d worn this half-shirt over to my apartment, and I took a mental picture. This version is the replication of an actual photo I took of you more recently while you were sleeping. I know you probably wouldn’t know the difference, but see all those grooves? They’re actually a pretty accurate depiction of yours. You’d be surprised how challenging it is to capture the details of a navel. One of the hardest paintings I’ve ever done, but it’s pretty much my favorite.”
“Is it for sale?”
“No. No way I’m giving that away to anyone. This is just for display.”
“Well, I think you’re the only person in the world who’d appreciate it.”
“I truly love every inch of you.”
I looked into his eyes and knew he’d meant that with all of his heart and soul.
***
New Year’s Eve in Times Square was just as spectacular as I’d always imagined. Swimming in a crowd of people, I cuddled with Damien who wrapped me in his shearling-lined coat as he hugged me from behind.
When the ball dropped, we kissed so hard it felt like my lips were going to fall off.
Damien flipped me around toward him and repositioned the coat over me as a blanket. “It freaks me out to think that this time last year, I was watching all of this, staring at Ryan Seacrest on the television and thinking it was just going to be another year of the same. I’d automatically assumed I’d be stuck in the same rut, screwing around with women I di
dn’t care about, painting all day. I didn’t think that was a bad life, but I really didn’t know better. I thought I was pretty happy. Turns out, I didn’t know happy from a hole in the wall.”
I smiled, appreciating the wall reference as he continued.
“I didn’t have a fucking clue. I didn’t know that true happiness would only come from a girl I hadn’t met yet. It’s hard to believe that this time last year, I didn’t even know who Chelsea Jameson was. Now, I don’t even know who I am without you.”
My heart felt like it was bursting with a mixture of love and fear. There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t seem to form the words. It was very hard for me to articulate what I was feeling, so I simply buried my head against his heart and said, “This is gonna be a good year, Damien. I just know it.”
Damien was right. The New York trip had been a much-needed change of scenery. It went by all too fast.
The next day, on our flight home, Damien held my hand as our plane slowly descended in preparation for its landing in San Francisco. The sun was shining into the aircraft, illuminating his beautiful eyes as he looked at me and said, “I think I’m gonna do it.”
My chest tightened. I knew full well what he was referring to but asked anyway.
I braced myself. “Do what?”
“The surgery. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna schedule it when we get back.”
Squeezing his hand tighter, I put on a brave face and smiled despite filling with fear. “Okay.”
I suddenly wished that we could have just stayed airborne.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
UNINTENTIONAL VOWS
Damien’s surgery was scheduled for the twenty-eighth of February, which was a little over a week away.
I’d been doing everything in my power over the last month and a half to remain strong for him. He didn’t need to see that I was scared shitless; that wouldn’t help anything. So, I quietly dealt with my anxiety on my own. I went and saw a therapist a couple of times during my lunch breaks and began taking something mild to take the edge off.
The past few weeks had consisted of lots of special appointments in preparation for the surgery. Damien had to have an echocardiogram; he met with his surgeon and anesthesiologist and also underwent a number of blood tests.
We’d decided that the upcoming weekend before his surgery was going to be low-key. We would do something relaxing and try to get our minds off of things.
Damien and I were sitting on the couch watching TV Monday night. I was pretending to be immersed in the movie. Instead, I was ruminating about the surgery.
He looked over at me at one point, and I just knew he could tell I wasn’t really paying attention to the television. When he kissed me softly on the forehead, I took it as an unspoken acknowledgement that he knew what I’d really been thinking about. It was so tiring trying to pretend that I was fine all of the time. I wanted these days to pass so that we could have the surgery behind us. At the same time, I wanted them to drag, because I was scared.
He kissed my head again then asked, “Have you thought about what you want to do this weekend?”
“I thought we were just gonna hang out here, have some private time at home.”
“We could do that, or maybe we could do something else.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Maybe we could get married.”
My heart started to race. Did he just say what I think he said?
He’d rendered me speechless. “What?”
“We could get married…you know…if you wanted.”
At first, I thought maybe he was joking, but the seriousness in his expression negated that. He was nervous. There was no way he was kidding.
“I don’t understand.”
“I know it’s out of the blue.”
“Yes. It is.”
He took both of my hands in his. “Hear me out.”
I blew out a deep breath. “Okay.”
“It’s all I’ve been able to think about ever since I made the decision to have the surgery. I truly believe I’m gonna be okay, Chelsea. Alright? But if there’s even a miniscule percent chance that I’m not…the one thing I would regret the most in this life is not having seen you walk down the aisle toward me. I’m not trying to sound morbid, because again, I really trust my doctors, but it’s still all I can think about. I want you to be my wife.”
The tears I’d been holding back could not be contained any longer. “I want that, too.”
“Are you not ready? Do you think it’s too soon?”
“Maybe I should think that, but I don’t.”
“Me neither, baby. When they put me under and tell me to count to ten or whatever it is they do, I want to think about the memory of you in that white dress. I also want to know that when I wake up, we’ll be married. But full disclosure…I also want you to have the legal right to have access to me at all times and to make decisions if needed.”
When I just nodded in silence, he continued.
“I don’t want you to think that I’m only asking you because I’m scared. I’ve known for a long time that you’re it for me. I was gonna ask you on Christmas morning. You know that was before I even decided to have the surgery. Obviously, my going to the emergency room ruined those plans. Then, I was going to ask you in New York, but by that time, I’d decided on the surgery and changed my mind, thinking it would be better to wait until after. But as we’ve gotten closer to the date, I’ve changed my mind again because I’m realizing I just can’t wait any longer. I want it now. Fuck that, I want it yesterday.”
“You were really gonna propose to me on Christmas?”
“Yeah. I have the ring and everything.” He dropped his head. “Fuck, I royally screwed up this proposal, didn’t I? I just basically asked you to marry me with no ring.”
“No. This is so you, Damien. It’s as spontaneous as anything you’ve ever done. I’ll see the ring on our wedding day. I want to be surprised.”
“Are you sure? Because I could just casually walk to the bedroom where I’m hiding it and hand it to you right now. That would make this proposal even lamer.”
“There’s nothing lame about you saying you can’t wait another day to marry me. You are the most unintentionally romantic person I have ever met.”
“That’s a good way of putting it.”
“Will we tell people?”
“I think we should keep it to ourselves. You can tell Jade. I’ll probably tell Ty. But we’ll keep it on the down low. We’ll still have the big wedding in the near future. You deserve that.”
“Who’s gonna marry us?”
“I’ll take care of those details. I was thinking Santa Cruz Beach at sunset. The forecast looks nice. It’s gonna be warmer than usual for this time of year. What do you think?”
“I think that’s perfect.”
“You just need to worry about two things. One…buy a white dress that will make me want to rip it off of you later that night. Between you and me, that just means any white dress. And two…take some time off tomorrow so we can get our marriage license in time for Saturday.”
“I feel so sneaky doing it like this, but there’s also something really exciting about the whole thing.”
“We’re good at sneaking around. It’s what we do.”
“You’re right about that, except usually it has to do with you corrupting me, not making me an honest woman.”
He flashed a devilish smile. “So, we have a date, Mrs. Hennessey?”
“We have a date.”
***
“We’re here to apply for a marriage license,” Damien said.
We’d just arrived at the county clerk’s office. The woman at the desk looked less than amused when Damien began kissing my neck as we waited for her to gather the paperwork. We looked like two horny kids. She had no idea how serious our lives had been as of late.
He took one look at the form and said, “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“I just
realized you’re about to see my middle name. They make me enter it here.”
“Were you seriously never gonna tell me?”
“Probably would’ve told you eventually, but it’s been too damn fun keeping you wondering, Chelsea Deanna.”
“You go first. Put your name down,” I said.
With bated breath, I watched every stroke of the pen as he wrote it: Damien Homer Hennessey.
“Homer?”
He nodded without taking his eyes off the paper. “Homer.”
I chuckled. “Homer…as in—”
“Simpson. Yup. Homer Simpson. The Simpsons show had just started airing around the time I was born. My father was a huge fan. So, he decided that out of all the names in the world he could’ve given me for my middle name, Homer was it.”
“Your mother went along with it?”
“You see how crazy about him she is. He could have sold her on anything.” He clicked the pen and gave it to me. “You know what, though?”
“What?”
“It could always be worse.”
“How so?”
“Tyler got Bart.”
City Hall echoed with the sounds of our laughter. An elderly couple walked by, giving us a dirty look for disturbing the peace.
Damien smiled impishly over at them and proudly proclaimed, “We’re getting hitched.”
When they continued to stare at us funny, Damien looked at me and said, “I can’t believe Daddy gave us his blessing.” He turned to them, pulling me into his side and joked, “She’s my stepsister.”
The couple walked away, looking mortified.
***
Damien was intentionally keeping me in the dark about his plans for the beach ceremony.
My one mission was to find that perfect dress on Friday afternoon. I ended up hitting one local wedding boutique that had a lot to choose from. Since there wasn’t a great deal of time to go from place to place, I vowed to make a decision there. The dress I finally chose was a very unconventional style, but it fit me better than any of them.
Neighbor Dearest Page 22
