Chapter 86 Welcome back
She reached for my hand, her touch warm and steady. “I know Damien will come back with good news about Raymond. I never want to see his face again—especially not around you.”
My breath caught.
I hadn’t even realized Darcy knew the real reason Damien had left. I had assumed he had told her some harmless version of the truth.
I looked at her, startled. “You… know?”
She nodded gently.
“He told me what happened with Raymond running. I was furious, no one has the right to frighten you like that.” Something inside me loosened.
“I wish so too,” I whispered. “That chapter needs to be buried for good.”
Darcy squeezed my hand. “It will be, my dear. You’ll see.” She studied me for a moment, then asked softly, “Do you know when Damien will be returning?”
“No,” I admitted. “He said soon. At most five days.”
She smiled faintly.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure your relationship will be smoother from now on.”
I wished I could believe that but I smiled anyway.
“And do not forget,” Darcy added, “you can come to me whenever you have anything heavy on your heart.”
My throat tightened.
I looked at her properly then—really looked at her. Darcy. Damien’s mother. The closest thing I had to a mother in this world. Her eyes were kind, her presence comforting, her arms always open.
I would miss her.
So much.
I would miss Richelle too. Miss the house. Miss the strange family I had somehow found inside a contract written on paper. This arrangement had started as something for my protection and formal. But it had become so much more.
I set my plate aside and leaned into Darcy’s arms.
“Thank you, Darcy,” I whispered.
She wrapped me in a hug, stroking my hair gently.
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
I held onto her longer than usual, memorizing what it felt like to be held without fear. Without conditions.
When I finally left her place, I felt lighter—but not free. The elevator ride back up felt too quiet. I leaned against the mirrored wall, my reflection staring back at me like a stranger. I pulled out my phone and tried to call Damien again.
Straight to voicemail, I sighed, trying again. The metal doors slid open. I stepped into the living room.
It was dark, too dark.
Only the faint glow of city lights leaked through the curtains. I heard a ringtone, it was not mine.
Someone else’s phone was ringing.
My steps slowed. “Richelle?” I called softly.
No answer.
I checked the time. 9 p.m. Had she gone to sleep already? The ringtone sounded again, echoing faintly through the apartment. My heart began to beat faster, an unfamiliar dread crawling up my spine.
I walked farther inside, confusion prickling at my skin. Why were the lights off?
I reached along the wall until my fingers brushed the familiar switch but for a moment, I hesitated.
Then I pressed it and what I saw made me gasp.
~
The lights came on all at once.
And my world stopped breathing.
For a split second, I couldn’t process what my eyes were seeing. My mind refused to believe it, like if I blinked, the image would vanish and the room would be empty again.
But he was there.
Damien sat on the couch, right in the middle of the living room, as if he had always belonged there. A large bouquet of pink hibiscus flowers rested in one arm, their petals soft and full, my favorite shade of fragile beauty. In his other hand was a gift bag, dark and elegant, hanging loosely from his fingers.
The shadows of the room framed him like a painting. My heart slammed into my ribs “Damien…” I breathed.
I didn’t even register what he was wearing. I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.
I ran.
He stood just in time, laughing in surprise as I threw myself into him. My arms wrapped around his neck, my legs locked around his torso, and he caught me easily with one arm, the bouquet still clutched in his free hand like it was part of the moment.
I buried my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling him like air after drowning, his scent, his warmth, his solid, living presence. I held him like he might disappear. “You’re real,” I whispered against his skin. “You’re really here.”
He tightened his arm around my waist.
“I’m here, tesoro.”
I pulled back just enough to look at him. His mouth curved into a wide grin, but his eyes were softer—darker with longing, like he had been starving for this too.
“Hello, love,” he said quietly, his gaze roaming over my face like he was trying to memorize me all over again.
My hands went to his cheeks without permission, pressing kisses everywhere—his jaw, his forehead, his lips, his nose.
“You’re back,” I breathed. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, tesoro.”
The way he said it made my chest ache.
“How are you back so early?” I asked, still clinging to him. “You said five days.”
He chuckled. “I finished early. I wanted to surprise you.” It hit me then—how tired he must be. How long he must have traveled. How he had probably come straight here without resting.
I slid down from his arms, my feet touching the floor again.
“You just got back and I’m already attacking you,” I scolded softly. “Come. You need to shower and eat something. You’ll tell me everything after.”
His smile widened. “Of course, love. But first…”
He handed me the bouquet.
I gasped. “These are beautiful, Damien.”
“They reminded me of you.”
I lifted them to my face, inhaling deeply.
“Did you really miss me this much?”
He leaned down until his face was inches from mine. “I missed you more than that. I missed your skin, your lips...”
His thumb traced my bottom lip slowly. My cheeks burned. “You’re not allowed to make me blush this fast.”
“I love when your face turns red.”
I swatted his chest lightly. “Go shower, lover boy.”
“I brought pastries too.”
My heart nearly burst. “You bought me flowers and gifts and pastries?”
“Yes.”
“Marry me.”
He laughed. “Already thought of that.”
I squealed and rushed to grab the pastry bag while he headed to the bathroom.