by Susan Ward
“I thought here at your parents’ house it would be less complicated and we’d be nothing but who we are,” he explained on an intense whisper. “Nothing in the way of you getting to know me and me you. That, Khloe, is why we’re walking tonight. That’s why I followed you to California and what I want. Where we go from there, what we should make of us, I don’t know yet. But neither do you. I’m merely proposing you allow us to explore it.”
I tilted my head to squarely meet his gaze, and my breath caught. God, he was gorgeous. Beyond where he stood on the edge of the cliffs was the Pacific Coast Highway, with moving dots of car headlights, and the sounds of crashing waves. And where we were in the darkness there was only us.
I leaned back against the trunk of a sycamore tree because being too near him was dangerous. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for something more than friendship with you. More with a guy isn’t something I’ve tried.”
A bright flash shone in his amber eyes. “Then I won’t push for more until you’re ready.”
“And we keep this private between us,” I insisted. “You tell no one. Don’t expect me to go out in public with you. If we become something public, that’s a deal breaker for me. It’s something I can’t do, Damon. Not ever.”
He ran his thumb along my jawline and my insides shimmied in answer. “Private. Only ours. I want that more than you can imagine.”
“And you have to respect my privacy, Damon. No matter how close we get, you don’t rummage around in my personal junk and I don’t rummage around in yours.”
He eased into me. “Consider all relationship baggage checked at the door.”
I didn’t mean just relationship history, but correcting him then wasn’t possible. “No promises. Not ever. You don’t give them, and you don’t ask for them.”
“I can do that.”
“So how do we do whatever it is you want us to do?”
“For as long as you want to”—he planted his hands against the tree on each side of me— “we can walk, talk, and be only Khloe and Damon. No pressure, KK. You can have me any way you want. And when my holiday here is done, I’ll go unless you ask me to stay.”
And from that moment on, I knew I’d be measuring each day I was in Pacific Palisades in moments beneath the stars with Damon.
Chapter Twenty-Five
THERE ARE NIGHTS IN bed that are everything a woman could want even without a man beside her. That first night after walking with Damon was one for me. And over such a silly thing: a set time each night to walk together; no expectations, just two people talking and getting to know one another.
It’d been so long since I’d opened the door for a guy to really get to know me. It was so beautifully mundane and dangerous. Guy meets girl. Girl likes guy. Then they agree to get to know each other before doing anything else. I didn’t even think guys behaved that way any longer, but clearly Damon did otherwise he wouldn’t have proposed it.
It made me wonder about all the tabloid stories I’d read about him. His whirlwind affairs. The many scandals. They didn’t seem consistent with the man I knew. It made me wonder if he was different with me, and I liked that thought more than it was safe to.
When I slipped into my sheets, I fast fell asleep in the kind of peaceful, restive slumber I rarely had. I woke to the sound of tapping against my glass patio door. Flutters filled my stomach as the first thought in my head was it was Damon, but while I tried to convince my lazy ass to climb from the sheets my phone dinged.
Arrogant Prince: First you skip tai chi on the cliffs—my new favorite spectator sport—then breakfast. If my being here is going to interfere with your time with your family that isn’t what I want, Khloe, and I should leave.
“Oh crud,” I groaned, tossing aside my covers. I’d finally surrendered to having some kind of relationship with him and he thought he should leave. One walk with Damon and he was now part of the worry excessively about Khloe brigade. It was exactly why I wanted to keep him at a distance and exactly the kind of complication I didn’t need while at home. My existence in Pacific Palisades was complicated enough for me. Managing any manner of personal life here was impossible.
My fingers hovered over the keys as I decided how best to handle this. I was about to unlock my phone when there was a harsher bang against the patio door.
“Jeez, Louise,” I screeched, climbing from bed. “Pound on the glass again and I’m changing your contact name to OCD Stalker.”
My face burned when I realized it was my mother staring in. Grimacing, I slid open the door and in came a barrage of words. “I’m not trying to stalk you, baby girl. I texted you earlier—no answer. Knocked on the bedroom door—crickets. I thought I should check on you. Everything all right?”
Wonderful. Mom rambling with that anxious crinkle in her brow before I’d had my coffee. I held my arms wide so she could see my zebra-print jammies. “I’m perfectly fine, Mom. I was sleeping. Really sleeping and you—” I cut myself off as finishing that thought wouldn’t have worked out well for me. “Was there something you needed?”
Her expression changed into something cute and bizarre. “Nothing. I just missed you at breakfast, dear.”
“I guess my internal clock isn’t as reset as I thought it was. Can I go back to bed now, Mom? Good sleep is like a good man. You want to grab onto it while you can. You may not find it again.”
She giggled gleefully. “Aha. Khloe is hiding in here thinking about Damon. Now I understand why you skipped out on tai chi this morning. You’re like me. You’ve gotta be alone when you have stuff to think through. I had a feeling something was going on with you two. I didn’t realize it was this serious.”
Serious? “God, Mom. Dial it down. I’m too groggy for this.”
“He seems very interested in you,” she responded knowingly. “He couldn’t look at anything but you during dinner last night. Then I saw you two walking after your dad and I went to bed. You were out on the cliffs together for a very long time. What happened? Are you a thing now?”
“Not talking about this, Mom.”
I stepped back in my room and my mother followed. “Why not? You talk about your relationships with your sisters, right? Mothers and daughters talk about these things. We should talk about them, Khloe. What’s wrong with me as a sounding board if you’ve got something to think through?”
“Nothing is wrong with you, Mom.” I whirled to find her sitting on my sofa, staring at me with curious, hopeful eyes. “There’s just nothing to think through.”
She pulled up her legs until she was sitting cross-legged. “He followed you from Paris to here. There must be something going on. Krystal told me yesterday you broke up with Zane. Is it because of Damon?”
Thank you, Krystal. It was my news; she should have left it for me to tell. “Why does everyone in this family always have to take one and one and come up with five?” I slammed shut the coffee holder in my Keurig. “He didn’t follow me from Paris. Whatever Krystal told you is wrong. And I didn’t break up with Zane for anyone.”
“Well, that’s how it looks to your father and me.”
“Well, that’s not how it is.”
I chanced a peek at Mom over my shoulder and her lopsided grin became larger.
“Damon’s not here because of me,” I insisted more spiritedly. “Please let whoever you’ve got in the secret family chat about me—that doesn’t include me—know that.”
I challenged her blue gaze, which was clear and unrevealing. No comeback from Chrissie, not even after I busted her over the private chat she had with my siblings about me.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, think what you want.”
“You don’t have to be so private about everything, Khloe. We like knowing what’s going on with you kids. And we like Damon, if that’s why you’re determined to keep this from us—concern over what your dad and I’ll think about this. If you like him, we like him. It’s that simple, baby girl. Unlike Zane, who we couldn’t get over that hurdle with. We could neve
r understand what you saw in him. We’re both delighted he’s gone.”
Zane. Sorry, Chrissie, not going there either. The sound from my coffee machine stopped and I grabbed my cup. “Would you like some coffee, Mom?”
“Yes, but I can’t. I’ve already had my limit.”
I pouted as I settled beside her on the couch. “There shouldn’t be limits on the wonderful things. Wouldn’t it be great if we could have as much as we wanted of the wonderful things?”
She made a half-hearted nod as her gaze clouded over. Oh crud. Another great move by Khloe. “What’s on the agenda today?”
Chrissie perked up. “You mean you don’t have plans? I assumed after last night you’d be spending the day with Damon.”
I took a beat by partaking of a sip of my coffee. “I was kinda hoping we could spend the day together, Mom.”
Her eyes turned into two giant saucers of surprise. “Really? I’d like that. What should we do? It’s been so long since I’ve had a girls’ day out, I’m not even sure what kind of things girls do to have fun anymore.”
My phone dinged again. Chrissie was suddenly hyperfocused to figure out the day and I was in a rush to get her from my bedroom.
“You decide, Mom. Just give me a half hour to shower, dress, and eat. Then we’ll go wherever you want.”
My mom sprang to her feet. “See you in the kitchen. Breakfast is put away, but I can make you something fresh if you want me to.”
“Kitchen, thirty minutes, Mom.” I was moving with her to the door, hoping she’d leave. Once outside, she smiled back at me and I waited until she starting walking toward the main patio to close it.
I retrieved my phone from my night table. Arrogant Prince would like to FaceTime. Oh my. I swiped open the screen as my phone began to vibrate. With too many things happening at once I accidently tapped the accept button and there Damon was in what I recognized as one of our guest bedrooms.
“You’re right. I think you should leave,” I announced abruptly.
His eyes scoured me, making my pulse race. “Wait. What? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. Can we start with something easier, like good morning?”
He looked adorably confused and apprehensive.
I plopped down on the edge of my bed. “Your earlier text. I’m confirming you’re right. You are interfering with my time with my family. Your leaving would be better all around.”
“Sorry, beautiful.” He pouted and my heart started dancing. “Do you want to come to my place or should I come to yours? We really should talk about this before doing anything rash.”
“Presumptuous, aren’t you? Neither. I got junk to do.” I ran my hand through my hair, tucking my hand inside at my nape and using my forearm to curl the strands around so they fell over one shoulder as I lay back on my bed.
“Now I’m staying longer than a fortnight. I’m staying half a year. Do you always look this sexy first thing in the morning?”
The glow in his eyes as he stared at me lit up my bedroom. “I don’t know. Do I?”
“You were the morning after I fell asleep in your room. But today...”
“Today?” I asked when he didn’t finish.
“You take my breath away. Keep this up and I’ll have no choice but to come to your room.”
I sighed, stretching out on my bed in answer to his words. “I’ve got a busy day, Damon. Is there something you wanted?”
The change in his expression made my insides jump, but all he said was, “What kind of busy day?”
“Junk with my mom.”
He perked up. “Good.”
I frowned. “Why is that good?”
“It means there’s no competition at present.”
After that, I wanted to reach through the screen and touch him, but all I could do was watch as his fingers ran through his unruly chestnut locks. He was wearing running gear. He’d gone running somewhere.
I wanted to ask him where he’d run, what his plans for the day were—a thousand ordinary questions, which suddenly seemed the most important things there were.
“I need to go, Damon. My mom’s waiting and I still have to shower.”
“I’ll let you get on with it, then.”
“I’ll text you when I get home.”
“Text me while you’re out. I want to know what you’re doing.”
I wanted to know everything about Damon, and that confirmed he felt the same way. “See you tonight.”
He smiled. “Counting the minutes until walking with you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
AN OCEAN BREEZE SWEPT up from the Pacific across the Santa Monica pier as I made my way toward the café with my mother. Elsewhere the air was cold, autumn leaves were falling, but in Southern California it could have been spring. The beginning of the rebirth of life and not the season before death.
The hardest days of my life came with my return to Pacific Palisades, but here there were no seasons, no beginnings or endings. Winter would not be denied in most parts of the world, but here it did not exist. There might be the rare cold day, but never a harsh bite or snow and always on its heels came more sunshine. It was why I ran home at the beginning of October for my annual exam and treatments, to be reminded that there were places with no season of death.
“This was a great idea for our last stop,” my mom announced, pulling back the heavy wood and glass entry door. “We haven’t been here since you were little. The perfect end to a perfect day before we go back to the house.”
Over the past six hours we’d had the kind of mother/daughter day Chrissie and I rarely indulged as our alone time usually entailed more serious tasks: doctors, treatments, and all the crazy regimens she threw in out of her need to find me a miracle her way.
It’d been so long since we’d just had fun together I’d forgotten it could be this way with my mother. She was adorably spunky when she let herself be. It made me glad I’d indulged a full day with her which included shopping, a trip to a hole-in-the-wall nail bar—Mom’s idea, not mine—and linner at The Kettle in Manhattan Beach, her term for eating at three which made it not quite lunch and too early for dinner. After an hour roaming the amusements on the pier, we decided to have wine at sunset before going home.
Even as tired as I was, excitement hummed inside my limbs from the thought that at home there’d be Damon. I hadn’t seen him yet today except briefly on FaceTime, but he’d been with me every step on my adventure with Mom, texting me updates of his day with my dad while I replied with silly comments about what I was doing. I wouldn’t call our epically long chat string flirty or romantic, but warmth spread through me each time a notification from him appeared on my screen.
It was the strangest feeling how quickly he’d become a part of my life, something for each moment I was in and something to look forward to. As close as Zane and I were, I’d never known what I was sharing with Damon with him. It was like we had some instant deep connection that made the things we did not only necessary but our natural state of being. I wasn’t sure what the word for it was. Why a brief update from him could make me feel so alive.
My phone dinged, bringing a smile to my face as Chrissie whirled around and leaned back against the hostess station. “Five minutes, no help.”
Distracted, I shook my head. “It’s busy, Mom.” I wanted to check my text and couldn’t with my mom staring at me.
A crinkle appeared in her brow. “They shouldn’t make people wait this long for service.”
“Most people wait all the time, Mom.”
“It’s never like this in Santa Barbara.”
It wasn’t worth reminding her that in Santa Barbara no matter what she did she couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized in her hometown or that it was a lot less crowded there than in Santa Monica.
“They wouldn’t make me wait if I were dressed all fancy like those women over there,” she groused, shifting her gaze in the direction of a table crowded with the type of women that filled Southern California. Overdres
sed, label obsessed, big bling wearing, plastic surgically kept young, middle-agers trying to be MILFs instead of panthers. She crinkled her nose. “You look gorgeous, baby girl. I think we’re not getting service because of me.”
I stifled a laugh as my gaze ran what I was sure was Mom’s idea of a disguise so as not to be recognized: a black cap with giant sunglasses that covered half her face; a pink and red long-sleeved flannel shirt unbuttoned to reveal a black t-shirt with giant pink writing proclaiming I ❤ Rock ’n’ Roll; jeans; and flip-flops to finish her outfit. Her clothes, no doubt from the juniors’ rack, were a bit youthful for a woman her age, but then everything worked for Mom, and I couldn’t imagine her being different in a single way.
“No, it’s not the outfit. You look better than all those women combined.”
Her golden brows shot up on her tanned face. “Do I?”
I nodded vigorously, because it was true. Mom would always be beautiful no matter what. “The hostess is just busy, Mom. Us waiting is no diss on you.”
“I’ll give them one more minute then I’m taking matters into my own hands.”
“What are you going to do? Take off the hat so they can see who they’ve got waiting just so we can get a table?”
She crinkled her button nose. “Very funny, Khloe. I wouldn’t do that to you. And you make me sound like an elitist or something, and I’m not. But I am annoyed that I always seem to wait for everything when I’m not with your father. I think it’s a gender thing. The world isn’t as kind to older women as it is to older men, and that steams me up. As a matter of fact, I’m not waiting any longer for someone to notice me standing here. It’s not right.”
My mom ignored the wait to be seated sign, grabbed two menus, headed toward a table before a wall of glass, and dropped down on a chair.
“Mom, it says reserved.”
She grabbed the red sign and moved it to the table next to us. “Now it doesn’t. Sit down, baby girl. I want to get home before dark.”
