Damon says, “They’ll be fine.”
Just as I say, “I don’t know.”
Damon drains his beer and pushes his plate out of the way, leaning forward, commanding my attention. “Listen to me. We’re here for you, and we’re not going anywhere. You can trust us, and you should’ve. Respect to your husband—and I get what he was saying—but this is us, and we’ve been around long before he fucking got here. So, from now on, we’re all going to do better, no matter how busy our lives get,” Damon turns pointedly to me. “Or who we decide to fucking marry in secret, which warrants a phone call at the very least.” He pulls the sleeve from the cuff of his jacket. “We’re all going to be better.”
I nod, and so does Holly.
“Good, that’s settled,” he pulls his wallet from his back pocket.
“Tonight’s on me.”
He rolls his eyes. “You don’t know if you even have a job.”
“And we both know you’re not taking a dime from your husband,” Holly fact checks right after. Which is the absolute truth.
My heart lights with hope as I look between them. “So, do you forgive me?”
“For lying to us for four months and eloping with the world’s hottest rock star?” Holly condemns before she and Damon look at each other, their stare off resulting in a shared grin. Ironically, while I’m being lectured on transparency, these two idiots are clearly in love and doing a shit job of hiding it. Pushing away my margarita, I deny myself another sip to keep from blurting it out as Damon turns back to me.
“We do, but if you ever fucking ice us out again when shit such as this is going down,” he warns as he tilts his head toward Holly. “I’m going to let her kick your ass.”
“I’ve been working out, too,” Holly adds as Damon grins over at her in adoration.
“I’m sorry,” I swallow over the lump in my throat, “I love you guys.”
“We love you,” Damon softly reassures.
“You too,” Holly reciprocates. “Now, tell me about Dallas again.”
“Holly,” Damon cuts through. “Once was plenty.”
“Not for me,” she props her hand under her chin, looking glorious in a black sheath dress, makeup flawless, and sporting a sleek, high ponytail. “I love it when a man has enough balls to lay himself on the line for a woman.”
Damon lifts his beer to our waitress as Holly steals a glance at him.
It’s clear by her expression she thinks he’s playing immune. My guess is he’s heard every word.
Three days later, my mother rides alongside me on her temperamental Haflinger, Daisy Buchanan. She named her after the heroine in The Great Gatsby, one of her favorite books, despite my father poking fun at her for her depressing preference for romance classics. Unsurprisingly, Wuthering Heights takes the number one spot. She trots next to me along the fence after having greeted me at the front door to ease my concern with a quick, “I sent your father for beers with Marcus. It’s just you and me tonight.”
She’d texted me to come home for a ride after another day at my new but temporary office. Despite wanting to avoid my father—something I never thought I’d do—I immediately accepted the invitation, hope lighting my chest. I’d even gone so far as to call Easton to hear Stella had called him once too. Though their conversation was short, it is a start we both celebrated with quiet smiles.
“Mom,” I speak up, “I’m so sorry I hurt you this way. My actions were selfish, but I wasn’t thinking…and I know I owe Dad his own apology, as well—if he’ll ever be receptive to it. But I want you to know, I do respect you immensely. I respect your marriage to Dad and what you’ve built together, now more than ever.”
She rides for a few seconds before turning to me. “I’m still ridiculously angry and disappointed with how you handled it all, and I will have to work hard to forgive you, but I’ll get there. Your father will come around eventually…but Natalie,” she shakes her head.
“I know, Mom. Trust me, I know.”
“He finally told me everything that happened in Sedona.”
“Is that why you texted?”
“Again, I’m still pissed at you to the point I might get hostile.” She gives me a stern side-eye, her curly dark hair whipping around her face. “But I love you too much to let you sit at home alone a day longer thinking the things you were.”