Damaged

by Miley Maine

  There was a blush on my cheeks still and I felt a bit like a giddy schoolgirl. I hadn’t felt like this about anyone in a while. Not since my last relationship, which had ended in disaster.

  Even if I kept telling myself that it was wrong, there was nothing that I could do to change the way that I was feeling.

  So instead I made myself a hot cup of tea and grabbed my favorite book, settling into my chair and hoping that a story would help to take my mind off of things.

  It didn’t.

  It very much didn’t.

  Instead, every time the main love interest came up, I just pictured Vincent instead. When the characters kissed, I pictured the two of us doing it. Oh, how his lips would brush against mine, making me shiver from my head to my toes. He would settle a hand against the curve of my hip and pull me close to him. Then he would whisper in my ear how much he had wanted to do this.

  The fantasy and the tea warmed me inside, but I knew that there was no way these things would ever come to pass. I wouldn’t want to put Vincent in that kind of position or be so selfish as to think that he might be attracted to me.

  So I pushed those thoughts from my mind again and sipped at my tea until I fell asleep in my armchair, and dreamed of Vincent whisking me away like he was a prince and I was his princess.

  Chapter Six

  Vincent

  It didn’t take me long to decide that I wanted to donate to the school.

  Maybe the thought started the moment I began to talk to Emma. Perhaps it was when I saw how much the children enjoyed the trip, or maybe when I saw the way Emma interacted with them.

  All that I knew was that I wanted to support the work she did and enable her to do even more with it. If I could sponsor her directly, I would, but I understood that that would be unprofessional and probably put her in a compromising situation.

  So I would donate to the school and make sure that they put a good portion of it towards the art program.

  I had my assistant email the principal to tell her that I wanted to start a monthly donation to the school. The principal, Dr. Hurley, emailed back almost immediately, asking my assistant if I would like to schedule a tour.

  I, of course, said yes.

  I wanted to see Emma’s class in action, as well as understand what kind of school had such a good and extensive program for kids in the foster care system.

  They scheduled the tour for that Monday, eager to get me in apparently.

  Well, I could understand why.

  I had already donated to the school in one way, so they knew that I was good on my word and that I had a lot of money to spend. So they probably wanted to make sure that they were securing my promise of a monthly donation as quickly as possible.

  As the weekend passed, I found myself wandering the house to look at Maya’s paintings. The program was definitely something that she would have loved. She had always spoken to the healing power of art and had even gotten me to take up a paintbrush once or twice. I had no doubt that, if she was alive now, she would want to start something similar to what Emma was doing.

  Maybe I would try to take up the paintbrush once more, in her memory. It could be a good way to work through my grief, as Emma had said. Maybe art therapy was something that I should look into.

  No, I didn’t know if I would do that just yet. I might be opening up slowly, but there was only so much that I was comfortable doing. After a certain point, things felt invasive again.

  On Monday I drove to the school and parked in a spot that they had designated for me. It was a temporary sign, but it still felt very official and I had the sense that the school would work fast to make sure that I felt their appreciation if I did end up doing a monthly donation.

  I was going to, of course. I wanted to keep honoring Maya and Gavin, and this seemed like one of the best ways to do it.

  The principal was there to greet me. She was an older woman with a kind smile and a firm handshake. I got the sense that the whole reason this school had such good programs was because of her.

  “Welcome Mr. Eldrige,” she said. “We’re so glad to have you visiting us today. Would you like to start the tour?”

  “Yes please,” I said with a smile.

  “Follow me then.”

  Dr. Hurley led me through the halls of the school, pointing to various classrooms and showing me one where Ms. Adelberg was teaching a lab science lesson. The fourth-grade students were following her through a chemistry procedure and they all looked very engaged with the lesson.

  “We find hands-on learning is the best approach for elementary school, so we try to hire specialist teachers and keep the kids engaged in all sorts of ways. We currently run a music and an art program outside of the academic instruction and we encourage lots of reading and outside activity.”

  “That sounds lovely,” I said and I really meant it. It seemed like that was what kids really needed—to be engaged on all levels so that they learned to enjoy learning and keep their little minds sharp. This was the kind of school I might have liked to send Gavin to.

  “Would you like to see the art program now? Ms. Richards is currently doing a lesson with her class and I’m sure she wouldn't mind if you sat in.”

  “That would be great.”

  It was more than I had hoped for. I knew that I was going to get to see Emma teaching her class—they wouldn’t neglect the opportunity to show off their specialized program—but I hadn’t thought that I would get to sit in on the lesson.

  Hopefully, I would be able to express to her then my desire to remain friends with her. I’d had such a fun time hanging out with her during the trip and I had realized recently that I had no one close to me. I wanted to start cultivating those relationships again and she seemed like a safe space to start.

  “Let’s go then,” Dr. Hurley said, leading me to the classroom where Emma was teaching.

  She knocked lightly and then opened the door.

  “Ms. Richards, you have a visitor,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  She opened the door further and let me inside.

  “Do you mind if I join in?” I asked sheepishly, looking around to see all the students looking up at me with large smiles on their faces and canvases with paintings that were just started in front of them.

  “Of course not,” Emma said with a wide smile, looking around as if she was searching for somewhere for me to sit. “Here, why don’t you take a seat in the front.” She pulled out a chair for me near the front of the classroom and gestured for me to sit.

  I complied, watching as she searched around and grabbed me a small canvas, some paint, a glass of water, and some brushes.

  “We just started doing clouds, if you want to try to follow along,” she said with a smile. I couldn’t resist her when she was making that face.

  “I’d love to,” I said, looking up to where she had started a painting on a large canvas at the front of the classroom.

  For the rest of the hour of the art class, I followed along, doing my best to paint as Emma was directing.

  I had never been good at painting and I was sorely out of practice, but Emma made things easy to understand, and, beyond that, fun. Once the students had left, I walked over to where Emma was busy cleaning things up.

  “Thank you,” I said and she looked up at me.

  “Of course. I was happy you could join us.”

  “It was a lot of fun. You’re quite good at these things.”

  She laughed, a beautiful, bell-like sound. “I mean, I’ve been painting myself for a while, and I’ve had quite a few years to perfect how I teach it to the children.”

  “Still, it was quite impressive.”

  “Thank you.” Shyly, she studied the ground.

  “There was something I wanted to tell you,” I said.

  “Yes?” she looked up, expectant.

  “I’ve decided to start donating to the school and to the program that you’re doing. I think you’re doing incredible work and I want to keep supporting art
in the public school system. I would love for you to have the ability to buy whatever supplies you would like for classes.”

  “That would be amazing!” Her whole face lit up. “I’ve been wanting to buy my students nicer home kits and some basic kits for the rest of the kids. A lot of them really love art, and I’d love for them to be able to do it more at home.”

  “Well, tell me how much you need for that and I’ll make sure you get it,” I said.

  “Really?” her eyes went wide.

  “Really. I believe in what you’re doing here. It’s important work. And it’s obvious that the kids adore you.”

  She smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Thank you. You don’t know how much it means to hear you say that. I really respect your opinion.”

  “I’m glad. Just tell Dr. Hurley what you need and I’ll make sure that you get it.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  I was about to turn to leave when she reached out and said, “Wait!”

  “What is it?” I asked, turning back towards her.

  “I actually wanted to ask you something,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I want to thank you for all you’ve done. Would you let me take you out for dinner sometime?”

  The thought almost made me want to laugh. Her taking me out for dinner, especially since I clearly had a lot more money than she did. But I knew that the sentiment was there, and that was what I really appreciated.

  “I would actually love that,” I said. “It would give us a chance to talk more about what you do. I’d love to hear more about your artistic journey too.”

  She gave me a beaming smile. “Alright, shall I text you then?”

  “Sure, here, give me your phone and I’ll put my number in.”

  I extended my hand and she quickly searched her bag for her phone, unlocked it, and then handed it to me. I opened her contacts and added my number along with my contact name: Vincent Eldrige. I considered adding something a little more flirty but realized that that was not the foot I wanted to put forward right now.

  While I was attracted to her, I didn’t necessarily want to pursue anything romantic just yet, so I didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. Instead, I just wanted to be friends with her for the moment. She was an interesting person, and I looked forward to learning a lot from her.

  “Thank you,” she said when I handed her phone back to her. “I’ll text you soon.”

  “Good, I’ll talk to you then,” I said, turning to leave with Dr. Hurley for the rest of the tour.

  The rest of the tour was concluded within about fifteen minutes. I told Dr. Hurley that she could send my assistant some proposed budgets for improving the art and music side of the school’s education, as well as anything that Emma might need.

  She nodded, seeming too lost for words at the fact that I would be so generous and I headed back to my car so I could drive into work.

  I had taken the morning off in order to go on the school tour, but there was still paperwork I needed to fill out. And on top of that, we had a few new cases coming in. I needed to decide if I wanted to take any of them on and who I should assign them to.

  I had learned that it was an important job, pairing up the case with the lawyer. Some of the lawyers in my firm worked particularly well with certain subject matter or had developed a way of speaking about things that were best suited to specific types of cases. If I paired them correctly, then my lawyers produced outstanding results and the reviews from our customers were always exceptional.

  If I didn’t, things didn’t always go just how I wanted them to I couldn’t stand for that. I needed control and perfection in the work environment. After tragedy had struck, it felt like the one thing I could control. So I clung to that, desperately.

  Chapter Seven

  Emma

  I was too excited for this dinner.

  I knew it because the moment that Vincent accepted, I was already thinking about what outfit I should wear.

  Yes, I wanted to become close to him, but I also had to keep reminding myself that this was not romantic in any way. He was handsome, kind, and generous, but I couldn’t think of him in that way. Especially not when he was now donating to the school.

  If I did end up in some type of relationship with him, rumors would spread quickly about it.

  And besides that, he was emotionally vulnerable. I would just be taking advantage of him. I hadn’t gained his trust to do that.

  So I made myself dress down, wore minimal makeup, and did not listen to any romantic songs while I was getting ready. I tried not to daydream, but they kept coming. I couldn’t help but think of Vincent as one of the characters in my books and me as the heroine. No matter what book I read, it always ended up the same. I pictured the two of us together in the place of the main characters.

  Once I was completely ready, I double-checked the address that I had sent Vincent and got into my car.

  I had made reservations at a small, family-owned restaurant. It wasn’t expensive, so I could afford to pay for the meal, but the food was absolutely delicious. I had eaten there ever since I first moved to this area, having stumbled upon it almost on accident. Since then, I had made friends with the family who owned it and tried to eat there at least once a month.

  If I could eat there every night, I would, but my wallet would not be able to handle that on top of art supplies and books.

  I smiled at the current host when I got there and informed him of my reservations. I didn’t know him, so he must have been new. I knew just about all of the staff at this place by this point.

  He took me to my table and left me with two menus and one drink list. I perused the wines as I waited, wondering if I should wait for Vincent to tell me what he liked or might prefer, or if I should try to order something based off of my own tastes.

  I wasn’t a big alcohol person, never had been, so I decided it would be better to wait for Vincent and see what he might want.

  I then turned to the menu as I waited anxiously for Vincent to arrive. I checked my phone, but there were no new messages, and it was only a few minutes past the reservation time.

  I didn’t have to wait much longer, for then Vincent strolled in, looking like a prince—a little out of place in such a homely establishment—and caught my eye. He smiled and waved, then walked over to take the seat across from mine.

  “I hope you didn’t have to wait too long,” he said.

  “Not long at all.”

  “Good. It was just a bit difficult to find this place.” He let out a short laugh. “But I suppose those are the places that usually have the best food, aren’t they.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I actually stumbled here on accident. I had their pasta primavera and I’ve been coming back ever since. I swear, their recipes must include some type of magic.”

  “Good to know, I’ll take your word for it. Though I don’t suppose I’ll have to for long.” He winked at me. “Anything you would recommend?”

  “Well, all their pastas are handmade and fresh, so those are honestly my favorite, but all their dishes are so good so I would just order whatever looks best to you on the menu.”

  “Got it,” he said, picking up his menu and beginning to thumb through it.

  “Oh, also, was there any wine you wanted? I looked, but honestly, that stuff is a bit overwhelming for me,” I said, gesturing to the wines list.

  “That’ll depend on what I decide to order,” he said. “Do you not like wine?”

  “I really couldn’t care less about it,” I admitted. “I don’t know, none of it seems as interesting as people make it out to be.”

  “Clearly you are trying the wrong wines then. Wine can be very delicious if you know what to pick. Tell you what, I’ll pick a couple for us to try together. My treat.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t need to do that—”

  “Ms. Emma Richards, you should know me well enough by now to know that money does not concern me when someone�
�s satisfaction is involved. Let me do this.”

  “Thank you,” I said, bowing my head to hide my blush. Despite trying to tell myself otherwise, this was starting to feel more and more like a date. To me, it seemed like Vincent knew this, and he was only aggravating the situation. Did he want to torment me? Or was he really interested in me? Or was I just overanalyzing everything and seeing things that weren’t there?

  When the waiter came back, Vincent informed him of his wine choices. The waiter nodded, clearly pleased with the selection, and hurried off before we could order anything else.

  He came back several minutes later with the first bottle. He poured it for both of us and then waited expectantly. I looked to Vincent for a cue, as I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to do in this situation.

  Vincent gestured to my glass. I lifted it to my lips and hesitantly took a sip.

  At first, I was a little unsure, but then I realized that I was actually enjoying the symphony of flavors in the drink.

  “That’s good,” I said, my voice a little higher due to surprise.

  Vincent grinned as if to say I told you so and the waiter cleared his throat.

  “Is there anything I can get started for the two of you for dinner?”

  I ordered my regular—a pasta primavera—while Vincent ordered a pasta dish with lamb.

  The waiter repeated our order back to us and then left once he had our confirmation that he had gotten it right.

  “This place is really rather quaint,” Vincent said, leaning back in his chair and looking around. “I like their taste.”

  “Me too.” The restaurant was decorated with an eclectic sense of style. The longer you looked, the more you realized that every item had a story. The whole effect of it was cozy and inviting, and very entertaining if you were ever bored or alone.

  “You would probably really like my apartment if you like this place,” I said, thinking of my own decoration sense.