Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Somehow, I convince her to travel to Italy with a friend she met in yoga. We ship her off, on our dime, of course, and she’s just gone. And the fact that that sits so right is somehow wrong.
Damion is voted in as CEO of West Enterprises, though he fears all the nightmares and crimes he will uncover and expects hell for months to follow.
Mary’s company is saved.
Even the board is saved from whatever West Senior held over their heads, and Damion seems to think they were relieved.
The studio, rating whores that they are, tried yet again to get me on camera for an interview. When that doesn’t work, they try for a wedding special. That is never going to happen. My show is real estate, not my love life.
The day of the funeral brings back memories of attending my own father’s funeral, and I wake nauseous and overall not good, but I try not to allow it to show. No matter what, Damion is saying goodbye to a parent today. I’ve just finished dressing in the same black dress I’d worn that day when Damion appears in the closet door, already dressed in a black suit.
“My mother’s not coming after all. She said she will not make the first time she sees you in years, be at that man’s funeral. She wants us to come see her. Soon.”
“I’d like that,” I say. “I’m sorry she won’t be here for you.”
“I’m fine,” he assures me. “I have you, baby, and my mother isn’t wrong about not coming. They were not friendly. She feels like it’s hypocritical.”
“I’ve thought of that,” I say, a bit of guilt grinding inside me and then churning around for good measure. I step close to him, my hands settling lightly on his arms, offering comfort with my touch, I hope. He’s been strained, torn between emotions that he can’t even fully name. Guilt over not feeling the loss seems to reign.
“I believe firmly that a parent who brought you into this world, deserves your presence as they leave it. And your spouse, or future spouse, meaning me, should be by their side.”
He folds me close, pressing our foreheads together, and holds me that way for a moment that stretches eternally, I think. We don’t move until he’s ready, and when we break apart, he seems stronger, ready to face this.
And with Walker by our sides, we endure the service and the pain of it all, because death is painful. It teaches us that nothing is forever, that everything we love can be taken from us in a blink of an eye.
It’s nearly eight at night when we board a chopper, my first ever, to the Hamptons. I’m riding adrenaline and excitement, and I’m pleased to see how that feeds Damion’s mood. He’s smiling now, happy to travel this journey with me, and not just across the miles, but to our new adventures together, safe from harm. He says as much, and I feel it, too, humming off of him even as the bird carrying us over the ocean hums with him.
My first look at the incredible mansion of a home Damion calls “ours,” which sits behind a stone-framed gate, is under the glow of starlight and lanterns lining a round driveway. The instant the front of the house, with a winding and dramatic porch, comes into view, I’m in love. This place is magical. It’s just what we need right now.
Once Damion has given me the tour of the stunning property—to include a gorgeous living area with the most incredible fireplace I’ve ever seen in my life, a media room, a wine room, a full gym, and so much more—we pull on jackets and end up on the beach, hand in hand. We walk a good long time without saying anything, until he halts and turns me to him, starlight flitting across the perfect lines of his face and the moon glowing overhead as if helping me celebrate my first night in this enchanted place.
“I love you,” he says simply. “Tell me when you’re going to marry me. Don’t make me wait. The sooner the better, but I want you to have your dream wedding.”
“My dream wedding is us, at this house. You were right. It’s perfect, and it can be intimate and the way I wanted it to be.”
“When?”
“Thanksgiving. Because we have so much to be thankful for.”
His handsome face lights like the stars kissing his face and a smile curves on his perfect mouth. “Thanksgiving it is, baby.”
The End
***