Chapter 8 A Trip Down Memory Lane
Damian's POV
I saw it the second Felicia walked out. Courtney tried to hide it — the way her eyes lingered on the restaurant entrance long after the door had swung shut. Not fear. Calculation. She was replaying every word. Every micro-expression. Every threat disguised as advice. I knew that look. It was the same one she wore in high school when she’d dissect a debate opponent’s argument before tearing it apart piece by piece.
But this was different.
This wasn’t a classroom. This was war. And I hated that Felicia Ardent had just invaded something that was supposed to belong to us. Dinner. A pause. A breath. Instead, she’d turned it into a battlefield. Courtney’s fingers were still loosely wrapped around her wine glass, but her gaze was distant — fixed on the door like she expected Felicia to reappear just to smirk one more time.
An idea formed instantly. I stood abruptly, stepping around the table before she could question me, and pulled her gently to her feet.
“Damian?” she asked, startled but amused.
I slid my arms around her waist and leaned down, my mouth brushing her ear.
“Let’s go to the café.”
For half a heartbeat she just stared at me. Then her entire face transformed. Joy.
Pure, unfiltered joy.
“The café?” she breathed.
I nodded. “The one,” I confirmed.
Her laughter bubbled up like sunlight breaking through clouds.
“You’re serious?”
“Very.”
We didn’t even bother finishing dinner. I tossed cash onto the table, laced my fingers through hers, and led her out of the restaurant before either of us could overthink it. Because Felicia had taken enough of tonight. She didn’t get to take our memories too.
—
The café hadn’t changed much. It sat tucked on a corner three blocks from our old high school — brick exterior, hand-painted chalkboard menus, warm yellow lights glowing through fogged windows. The same little bell chimed when we stepped inside. The smell hit me instantly. Espresso. Cinnamon. Sugar and something nostalgic I couldn’t quite name.
Courtney inhaled deeply.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “It smells exactly the same.”
“Mrs. Alvarez refuses to update anything,” I said.
Behind the counter, the woman in question looked up. Her eyes widened.
“Well, if it isn’t the McKay boys’ troublemaking friend,” she called out.
Courtney laughed, tugging me toward the counter.
“Hi, Mrs. A.”
The older woman’s expression softened.
“Courtney Bennett,” she said warmly. “You still ordering caramel lattes with extra foam?”
“Always.”
Mrs. Alvarez winked at me.
“And you still pretending you don’t like whipped cream?”
“I’ve evolved,” I replied solemnly.
Courtney grinned at me like I’d just gifted her the moon. We took our drinks to the back booth — our booth. The one tucked near the window where we’d spent countless afternoons pretending to study while actually watching life unfold around us. Where we’d watched Marcus fall hopelessly in love with Anna. Where everything had felt simpler. Courtney slid into the seat, running her fingers over the worn wooden table.
“I can’t believe we’re back here,” she said softly.
I watched her carefully. The tension from earlier was gone. Replaced by warmth. Memories.
“Remember when Marcus swore he wouldn't like anyone but Anna?” I asked.
Courtney snorted.
“He tripped over a chair trying to impress her.”
“He had this goofy look on his face for weeks.”
“And then he wrote her that ridiculous poem,” she added.
“It wasn’t ridiculous.”
“It rhymed ‘heart’ with ‘start’ three times.”
I laughed, leaning back against the booth. We sat there for a moment, just letting it settle.
High school felt like another lifetime. Back then our biggest concerns had been exams and hockey games. Now? Corporate sabotage. Federal arrests. Felicia Ardent. But sitting here, I remembered something important. We’d built foundations long before boardrooms. Before headlines. Before threats. I reached across the table and gently tugged Courtney closer until she slid beside me in the booth instead of across from me. She didn’t resist. She never did when it was like this. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against my chest.
“You know,” I murmured, brushing my lips against her temple, “I used to sit here watching Marcus and Anna and think I had it all figured out.”
“Oh?” she teased. “And what exactly did you have figured out, Mr. McKay?”
“That love looked inconvenient.”
She leaned back slightly to look at me.
“Inconvenient?”
“Distracting. Complicated. Risky.”
“And now?”
I tightened my hold on her.
“Now I think it’s the only thing that makes the risk worth it.”
Her expression softened.
“You don’t have to protect me from this,” she said quietly. “From Felicia. From Ardent. From whatever comes next.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“I just hate that she thinks she can scare you away.”
Courtney’s eyes flashed.
“She miscalculated.”
“She did.”
“She thought I’d fold.”
I smiled faintly.
“She doesn’t know you.”
“No,” Courtney agreed. “She doesn’t.”
The café buzzed softly around us — low conversations, the hiss of the espresso machine, the clink of ceramic mugs. Familiar. Safe. I took a breath.
“Court.”
She looked up at me immediately.
“Even if this escalates,” I said carefully, “even if Ardent throws everything she has at McKay Enterprises… I will never put you second.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“Damian—”
“I mean it,” I continued. “The company matters. The legacy matters. But you?”
I cupped her face gently.
“You mean the world to me.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed.
“You being by my side in this… choosing to stand there even after she tried to intimidate you… that means everything.”
Emotion shimmered in her eyes.
“You don’t have to choose between me and the company,” she whispered.
“I’m not,” I said. “I’m choosing both. But I’m choosing you first.”
Her hand slid up to rest over mine.
“I love you,” she said softly.
The words settled into my chest like something permanent.
“I love you too,” I replied.
We’d said it before. But tonight it felt different. Solidified by opposition. Strengthened by threat. Courtney leaned closer, her forehead resting against mine.
“For the record,” she murmured, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” I said.
“Felicia can threaten all she wants.”
“She will.”
“She picked the wrong couple.”
I chuckled under my breath.
“That she did.”
She tilted her chin up slightly.
“Then let’s show her.”
And she closed the distance between us. Her lips brushed mine — soft at first. Then deeper. The world narrowed to warmth and breath and the steady certainty that whatever storm was coming, we were facing it together.
A loud shout shattered the moment.
“Are you kidding me?!”
Courtney and I pulled apart instantly.
Another voice followed — furious, sharp, distinctly female.
“I am done, Peter!”
We both turned toward the café entrance. The bell above the door jangled violently as it swung open. A blonde woman stormed out first — tall, striking, eyes blazing with fury. She barely noticed us as she marched down the sidewalk. A second later— Peter burst through the door after her.
“Wait!” he called. “You’re overreacting!”
Courtney blinked. I stared. Peter McKay did not chase. He was the one who got chased. But right now? He looked… rattled.
“Are we witnessing character development?” Courtney whispered.
I couldn’t help it — I laughed. Peter reached the sidewalk, grabbing the blonde’s arm lightly before she yanked it away.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped.
Even from inside, we could feel the heat of the argument.
Courtney glanced up at me, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Should we intervene?”
I considered it. Then shook my head.
“No.”
Peter needed this. Whatever this was. We watched as the blonde gestured angrily toward the street, clearly not backing down. Peter ran a hand through his hair — frustrated. Invested. That was new.
Courtney rested her head against my shoulder again.
“Your brother’s in trouble,” she murmured.
“Looks like it.”
“Do you think she knows about Stanford?”
“Probably.”
Peter had received offers from Stanford and other elite schools — sports scholarships lining up like trophies waiting to be claimed. But this? This wasn’t about sports. This was personal. The blonde finally spun on her heel and stalked off. Peter hesitated — then followed again. Determined.
Courtney smiled softly.
“Love makes fools of all of you McKay men.”
I tightened my arm around her.
“Only for the right woman.”
She looked up at me with that same fire she’d shown Felicia earlier.
“You better remember that.”
I kissed her temple gently.
“Trust me,” I said.
“I will.”
Outside, Peter disappeared down the street after the furious blonde. Inside the café, life resumed its quiet rhythm. Courtney intertwined her fingers with mine. Corporate wars loomed. Felicia Ardent was calculating her next move against McKay Enterprises. But in this booth, in this moment— We were untouchable. And for now, that was enough.