It started over something small.
That was always the way with the big ones.
They never announced themselves.
They arrived dressed as something ordinary and then grew into something else entirely before either person had time to prepare.
It started with a phone call.
Aurora was in the kitchen on a Wednesday morning when her phone rang and Liam Carter’s name appeared on the screen.
She had met Liam briefly at the work dinner two weeks ago.
He was charming and easy to talk to and had made her laugh three times in the space of ten minutes, which was a reasonable rate for someone she had just met.
He had asked for her number at the end of the evening and she had given it without thinking too much about it because he seemed harmless and friendly and she had not anticipated him actually using it.
He was using it now.
She answered and they talked for about fifteen minutes.
He wanted to know if she would like to visit a new rooftop restaurant that had just opened in the city.
Casual, he said.
Just good food and a good view.
She said she would think about it and he said fair enough and they ended the call pleasantly.
She set her phone down and turned around.
Damian was standing in the kitchen doorway.
She did not know how long he had been there.
Long enough, from the look on his face.
Not angry yet.
But close to something.
“Who was that,” he said.
“Liam Carter.” She kept her voice even.
“We met at your dinner.”
“I know who Liam Carter is.” His voice was controlled.
“Why is he calling you.”
“He asked if I would like to have lunch.”
Something shifted in Damian’s expression.
The careful management of it slipped slightly.
“And what did you say,” he said.
“I said I would think about it.”
He looked at her for a moment.
Then he walked to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup with the deliberate movements of a man keeping his hands occupied so the rest of him stays still.
“He is not a good idea,” he said.
Aurora leaned against the counter.
“Why.”
“He is competitive and ambitious and he pursues things he wants without much regard for what it costs other people.”
“You just described yourself,” she said.
He turned to look at her.
She held her ground.
“Damian,” she said carefully.
“You cannot tell me who I am allowed to have lunch with.”
“I am not telling you anything. I am giving you information.”
“You are doing both and you know it.”
He set his cup down.
Looked at the counter.
Looked back at her.
Flat and honest and stripped of any pretense.
“I have not said I am going.”
“But you are thinking about it.”
“I am allowed to think about things.”
The kitchen was quiet for a moment.
Just the two of them and the space between them and the thing that lived in that space which had a name now even if neither of them said it out loud as often as they should.
“Aurora.” His voice dropped lower.
“I am asking you not to go.”
She looked at him.
At the set of his jaw and the controlled tension in his shoulders and the gray eyes that were doing the thing they did when he was feeling more than he was saying.
“And I am asking you,” she said quietly, “to tell me why. Not because you do not trust him. Not because he is competitive or ambitious. The real reason.”
He was silent.
“Say it,” she said.
“You know why.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
The kitchen felt smaller than usual.
The morning light was coming in at a low angle through the window and it caught the edge of his face and he looked tired and real and completely unguarded in a way that still surprised her every time.
“Because he will want you,” Damian said quietly.
“And I cannot stand the thought of someone else wanting you.”
The words settled in the room.
Aurora felt them land somewhere deep and permanent.
“Then stop making me feel like I have to go looking for someone who will say that out loud,” she said.
His jaw tightened.
“That is not fair,” he said.
“It is completely fair.” Her voice was steady but there was something underneath it now, something that had been building quietly for days.
“You hold me at a certain distance and then you lose your mind when someone else comes close. You bring me to dinners and hold my hand in the car and look at me the way you look at me and then you sit in your armchair on the other side of the room and manage yourself.” She stopped.
Took a breath.
“I am not a problem to be managed Damian.”
“I know that.”
“Then stop treating me like one.”
He pushed off from the counter and crossed the kitchen in three steps and stopped directly in front of her.
Close.
Closer than the conversation required.
She had to tilt her head slightly to hold his gaze and she did it without stepping back.
“What do you want from me,” he said.
Low and direct.
“I want you to stop being afraid.”
“I am not afraid.”
“You are terrified,” she said.
“And I understand why. I know what this costs and I know what you stand to lose and I know your loyalty to my father is real. But you are using all of those things as reasons to stand still and they are becoming excuses.”
Something moved across his face.
“Aurora.”
“I am not finished.” She kept her voice quiet but she did not soften it.
“I have been patient. I will keep being patient because I understand you and I am not going anywhere. But patience is not the same as invisible. I need to know that what is happening between us is real to you. Not managed. Not monitored. Real.”
He looked at her for a long time.
The morning light moved slightly as a cloud passed outside.
Then he reached up and took her face in both hands the way he had in the kitchen during the storm and she felt the warmth of it go through her completely. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“It is real,” he said.
Quietly.
Firmly.
Like a man signing his name to something.
“Then act like it,” she whispered.
He pressed his forehead against hers.
She felt him exhale.
Long and slow.
The breath of a man putting something down that he had been carrying for too long.
“I am going to make mistakes,” he said against her forehead.
“I am going to be too controlled sometimes and too much other times and I do not know how to do this the way younger men do it. I have never done this.”
“Neither have I,” she said.
“Not like this.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her.
“Do not go to lunch with Liam Carter,” he said.
She almost smiled.
“That depends.”
“On what.”
“On whether you give me a better reason to stay home.”
He looked at her.
Then the corner of his mouth moved.
Barely.
The closest thing to a smile she had seen from him all morning.
He stepped back and picked up his coffee.
“I will be home by six,” he said.
“We will have dinner. Somewhere that is not this kitchen.”
“That is a start,” she said.
“Good.” He straightened his collar.
Picked up his keys.
Paused at the doorway.
“Aurora.”
“Yes.”
“Do not go to lunch with Liam Carter.”
She laughed.
Just softly.
To herself.
“Goodbye Damian,” she said.
He left.
She stood in the kitchen for a long moment after the front door closed and pressed both hands flat against the counter and smiled at the window.
Real.
He had said it was real.
She was going to hold him to every single word.
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