Broken, p.22
Broken, page 22
Pulling away, his lips graze each scar, one by one. He starts at my shoulder and works his way down to just above my waistline. I can’t quite describe how I feel, but it’s somewhere between embarrassed and quivery, yet it’s not a scared quiver, it’s one of desire, which surprises me a little.
Damien makes his way back up my body, one painfully slow kiss at a time, and by the time his lips meet mine, my insecurities have evaporated, replaced with a warmth and longing that overwhelms me.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells me, adding a few extra kisses to my neck. “Scars included. And when the day comes, whenever that may be, I plan on showing you just how beautiful you are.”
My stomach is doing somersaults, but Damien is already pulling away, chucking my top back at me, and I’m even more surprised at how disappointed I feel. My entire body is prickling with excitement, and my bed is suddenly looking highly inviting.
“You okay?” Damien asks.
“Uh-huh,” I answer, popping on my top, but I’m not sure I really heard the question. My mind’s a little preoccupied. “Just really hoping a drama-free day with my boyfriend is an actual possibility.” That’s my way of distracting my wandering thoughts with a daily dose of paranoia. Damien’s new-found bad luck in the form of a battering has got me a little more nervous than normal, though I’ve yet to air my concern aloud.
Damien moves close and pulls me into his arms. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve called me your boyfriend.”
“Is it?” I act dumb despite knowing he is spot on in his observation. “Well, I don’t remember you calling me your girlfriend yet.”
“I thought it was a given.”
“So did I,” I state. I totally didn’t, but Damien doesn’t need to know that.
“Liar.” Apparently, he can see right through me.
“I don’t need to put a label on how I feel about you.”
“And how do you feel about me?”
Well played once again. “That depends,” I tease. “Do you mean right his second…?”
Damien laughs. “I’m not gonna bite.”
“Wise choice.”
One shower for Damien later, and we’re heading out the door. I drive given Damien is supposed to be resting, but after listening to Damien moan about how shit my car is for the first thirty minutes, I silence him by threatening to abandon him on the motorway hard shoulder. It’s annoying enough having to rely on Damien giving me directions, his refusal to tell me where we’re going never-waning, but when he directs me onto the M55, I smirk.
“Blackpool,” I state. “Huh.”
“What do you mean ‘huh’?” Damien asks, lacking a denial.
“I didn’t peg you for a Blackpool fan.”
“Who doesn’t love Blackpool?” Damien scoffs.
“Possibly me,” I say. “I wouldn’t know, would I?” Have I been? Who knows?
“Everyone loves Blackpool,” Damien assures me.
Once off the M55, I navigate through the promenade traffic until I find a car park with a space. Despite Damien’s chivalrous protest, I get out to pay for an overpriced ticket, and hand in hand, we head to our first destination, Blackpool Pleasure Beach. I have a funny feeling I’m going to learn a lot about myself today. I don’t even know if I’ve ridden a roller coaster before, but I’m intrigued to find out if I enjoy one.
Damien and I nab ourselves a wristband, and we spend the next few hours riding every roller coaster in sight. Damien is a natural thrill-seeker, we all know that, but as it turns out, I love roller coasters. Adrenaline pumped, Damien and I head off for a spot of lunch, and Damien’s healthy eating takes a nosedive. He happily indulges in an enormous burger while I finish half of my hot dog, and I make a mental note to wind him up about the calories later in the day. Damien drags me on one last roller coaster, the biggest one, and as the ride plunges downwards, I’m regretting my decision to eat. My food is threatening to resurface, and I think I’m officially done with being spun in every direction.
Next stop is minigolf, and I’ve finally found something Damien is rubbish at. It’s a freaking miracle, and I take the opportunity to wind him up relentlessly. Damien takes it on the chin, but when he accidentally loses his ball to a golf-ball-eating bush, my laughter is uncontrollable. Damien scowls as he rummages around to retrieve it, throwing me an I’ve-had-enough glance en route back to the windmill designed putt. Luckily for him, we’ve only one hole left, and it’s the best hole yet. I bag myself a hole in one to finish, and Damien shakes his head in disbelief. I’ve well and truly kicked his arse, and his competitive side is groaning, I can tell.
Damien abandons his sulky demeanour as soon as we reach the arcades. I don’t know how long we spend wasting an absolute fortune on ten pence machines, zombie shooting, Mario Kart racing, and every other activity the arcades have to offer, but by the end, we’ve managed to snag enough tickets for Damien to buy me a plastic love heart bracelet. It probably costs a mere pound to buy, and although it makes me feel about twelve, it’s a result of hard work, and it’s sweet, so I’m wearing it with pride.
My cheeks hurting from the endless laughter, Damien and I head out on to the promenade, walking hand in hand.
“So, what next?” I ask, but Damien isn’t listening. He’s too busy looking up ahead at a band playing in the distance.
Damien leads me a little faster, and to my surprise, we join a bunch of couples, mostly of the older generation, for a dance. I can’t dance, but it’s a slow enough song, so I let Damien lead me, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other cupping my hand. I can’t help but laugh. I feel ridiculous, but I don’t even care. For once, I’m enjoying the moment, the smile on my face becoming a permanent fixture. At least until Damien, in all his wisdom, decides to spin me around, and I almost squeal in surprise. He pulls me back in and lowers my back towards the ground, flashing me that beautiful smile, and I laugh hard. He silences me by kissing me like there’s no one watching, only there’s a lot of people watching, and when he pulls me back up, the blush rushes to my cheeks.
Shaking my embarrassment aside, Damien and I head onto the beach, and I’m grateful to take a minute to sit and rest. I know Damien is active, but I’m knackered, and surely, after the attack only yesterday, even Damien’s got to be feeling the effects. I sit between Damien’s propped-up legs, my back against his chest, Damien’s arm wrapped around my waist. I place my arms over his, my hand gently caressing his hand, and as I stare out into the sunset, I smile at how perfect today has been. This, lying in my boyfriend’s arms on a beach after a day filled with laughter and fun is exactly what life should be, and I want more. I want to make the most of every second. I close my eyes for a few minutes, letting the breeze fan my face.
“What are you thinking?” Damien asks.
“I’m thinking,” I say, “that this is what I want for my future. Endless moments of bliss. No stress. No worries. Just happiness.”
Damien caresses my lips with his, and when he pulls away, those sky-blue eyes burn into me with a mesmerising intensity.
“I will spend the rest of my life making you happy,” he says, and although things between Damien and me are moving faster than I ever thought they would, his words don’t scare me. They excite me in ways I never thought possible. “I love you, Dani.” My breath hitches. “I am madly, crazily, deeply in love with you.”
I sit there, paralysed to the spot, eyes wide, jaw dropped, and absolutely floored by Damien’s use of the L-word. Love. Such a simple, yet powerful word. The kind of word that can either make a situation or break it into a thousand pieces. A word that can bring comfort and happiness yet a whole new world of pain, a songwriter’s paradise. I write songs about love all the time, and I know I loved my family, but do I understand what love really is? I stare into Damien’s eyes and smile.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I answer, “but I love you too.”
“I know,” he teases, laughing. “I’m a lovable guy.”
I roll my eyes. “Way to ruin a moment.” He apologises by kissing me, and I accept his apology wholeheartedly. “In all seriousness, I never thought I’d ever be able to feel love, or that anyone could love me –”
“That’s ’cause you’re an idiot,” he interrupts, and I slap him on the chest.
“Sorry,” I offer, clocking his wince. “Your determination to not take it easy is making me forget.”
“So, you hit me,” he declares. “And it’s my fault.”
“Yes,” I say. “But I am sorry it hurt.”
“Everything hurts,” he admits.
“And you call me an idiot.”
Damien instantly softens, running a finger down my cheek. “You’re not an idiot,” he assures, yet there’s a warmth to his voice that excites me. “You are the most amazing woman I have ever met.” Smooth. “To go through what you have, and still be the selfless, kind, beautiful woman you are is mind-blowing. And you can give me all the credit you want, but I know everything you’ve overcome has got jack shit to do with me.”
“That’s not true,” I argue. “I only pushed myself because you gave me a reason to.”
“Why is irrelevant,” he argues. “The fact is you did. You were the only one who could change things, Dani, and you overcame a shedload before I came along.”
That’s true. If Damien had shown up a couple of years ago, it wouldn’t have mattered what he did. If you think I’m broken now, the anxieties I have today are nothing compared to those I experienced in the months, a year even, after Adrian. I guess Damien showed up exactly when I needed him.
“You should be proud of how far you’ve come,” Damien adds. “I know I am.”
“Deep down, I am proud,” I admit. “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t play a part. Therapy helped me to step out of the traumatised mess I was in and gave me the basic tools to survive, but you’ve given me a reason to actually live. You’ve reminded me happiness is real, and I deserve it just as much as anyone else.”
“You deserve it more than anyone else,” Damien states.
“Well, in the words of this unbelievably amazing and gorgeous guy I know,” I tease, gaining me a smirk, “I don’t care how we got here. Just that we did.” I lift my hand to Damien’s cheek. “And I’m done looking back. All I want to do now is look to the future. A future with you.” Damien smiles that beautiful smile, and I snuggle back into his chest, staring out at the sea. “I don’t want today to end.”
“I’m so glad you said that.”
Damien doesn’t elaborate, rising to his feet and dragging me along with him. I probe him relentlessly during the forty-five-minute drive back to Damien’s home, but I’m left none the wiser. Feeling excited, confused and a little dubious about the apparent surprise Damien has in store, I’m letting Damien lead me inside. And when he opens the door, I’m rendered speechless.
I’m standing in the entrance to Damien’s home, feeling like I’ve walked into one of those romantic, chick-flicks Jess makes me watch far too regularly. The entire flat is covered in candlelight, the fake tealight kind, and Damien’s coffee table is in the centre covered with a white tablecloth, set for dinner for two. On top sits a beautiful bouquet of roses, and there’s a cushion on the floor at each end of the table – Damien’s version of table and chairs. It’s beautiful, and I can’t stop the beaming smile from creeping across my lips.
I’m about to say something when Elton John’s “Your Song” fills the room, and that’s when I spot Amy over by Damien’s music set-up, smiling like the Cheshire cat.
“I will leave you guys to it,” Amy says, giving Damien a quick hug before leaving and closing the door behind her.
I stand for a minute, taking in the smell of food coming from the kitchen, not that I’m at all hungry, wondering what I’ve done to deserve such a romantic setting. I feel Damien’s hands on my shoulders as he slides off my jacket, and I turn to face him. He chucks my jacket onto the nearest stool and smiles that beautiful smile.
“What’s all this for?” I ask.
“Do I need a reason to have a romantic meal with my girlfriend?” I guess not.
“When did you do all this?” I ask, though the answer should be obvious.
“I didn’t,” he admits. “I got Amy to do it. And Amy will be spending the night at yours tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. “If it means we get the place to ourselves.”
“If I didn’t know any better,” he mutters, lifting me, my legs wrapping around his waist, “I’d say you were flirting with me.”
“And if I didn’t know any better,” I tease, as Damien carries me and sits me down on the island, “I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”
“Do you want me to seduce you?” he asks, dropping his playful tone in favour of a soft, yet serious voice.
I bite my lip, that all-too-familiar self-conscious feeling reawakening. Surprisingly though, even though Adrian is always at the back of my mind, it’s the fear of not living up to expectation, shall we say, that’s got me feeling extra nervous. Let’s get realistic here. Damien is hot, and I have no doubt he has plenty of notches on his belt, notches that I could never measure up to. Sex equals pain, that’s all I’ve ever known, and the thought of being a disappointment fills me with a new-found dread that sickens me to my stomach. I feel like a virgin, only I’m not a virgin, I’m worse. I’m damaged goods. My concerns must be evident in my face because Damien is scowling at me.
“I didn’t do this,” he says, “or tell you I love you to get you into bed, Dani. I did it because you deserve it. You deserve to be treated right.”
“It’s not…” I hesitate. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then what?” he asks. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I sigh. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Try me.”
“I’m scared of…” How to put it. “Not living up to your previous conquests.” I’m not sure how else to word it, though saying it out loud only makes my embarrassment levels soar.
“How many women do you think I’ve had?” he asks, sounding a little offended.
“Are you kidding?” I ask. “Look at you. You’ve probably had women throwing themselves at you your entire life.”
“You’re doing wonders for my ego.” Damien laughs.
“I’m serious,” I say, sighing. “You may be one in a million, but you’re still male, and I’m not naïve enough to think you’ve been as patient and gentlemanly as you are now.”
“Not all men are dogs in heat, babe.”
I’m not convinced, and it’s written all over my face. “It’s got to be double figures, right?”
“Three,” Damien says bluntly, and I almost fall off the island in surprise. Luckily, Damien is there to keep me rooted.
“Three?” I repeat, loudly and high-pitched. “How is that possible?”
“I spent a lot of time in the Army.” Damien shrugs. “And I’m not a one-night stand kind of guy. Never have been.”
“Oh, God,” I say, the realisation hitting me like a dagger to the heart. “You’ve been in love before.”
Damien doesn’t answer, and I don’t know why but I suddenly feel sick. I force Damien backwards with my hands and jump down from the island, my insecurity increasing tenfold. I walk further into the living room, close to the makeshift dining table, and wrap my arms around myself. I know I’m overreacting, and I have no right to, but the thought of being compared to someone he used to love is making my anxiety hit the roof. How the hell am I supposed to live up to that?
“I take it that bothers you?” Damien asks.
“Yes,” I state bluntly, turning back to face him as he slowly walks towards me. “It shouldn’t, but it does.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Jealousy maybe? Insecurity definitely.”
“There’s nothing be jealous of,” he assures. “Or insecure about.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I argue. “I don’t have anyone for you to be jealous of.”
“That you know of,” he points out.
“I’ll never compare,” I blurt out.
Damien sighs, moving closer and placing his hands on the tops of my arms. “There is no comparison,” he argues. “I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you, and if you want the God’s honest truth, it scares the shit out of me.”
That’s not what I was expecting to hear, yet it’s oddly comforting, and exactly what I didn’t know I needed to hear.
“I have a past,” he adds. “But you do too, and if you take me down off the confident, self-assured pedestal you’ve got me on, you’ll see you’re not the only one who’s nervous here, Dani.”
“What do you have to be nervous about?” I ask, not in a cocky, your-feelings-don’t-matter way, but in a genuinely curious way.
“Everything,” he answers. “What Adrian did…” He hesitates. “I’m terrified if I make one wrong move or do something a little too rough…” Damien takes a heavy breath. “I’m scared it will send you right back to drowning in your pain, and the thought of being compared to him –”
“Adrian wasn’t my boyfriend, Damien,” I cut him off. “It’s not the same, and you could never do anything to make me compare you to him.”
“A part of me believes that but…” He sighs. “You’re not the only one who gets insecure sometimes. I have fears and worries just like anyone else.” Fair point. “You told me the one thing you’re scared of the most is losing me.” Never forgets a single thing. “Well, the same goes for me too, and I’m not saying any of this just to make you feel better before your crazy mind goes there. Although, I hope it does make you feel better.”
I let out a quiet laugh. Damien moves to put a hand on my cheek, those sky-blue eyes staring into mine with a blazing intensity.
“I can’t lose you, Dani,” he whispers. “I love you more than you will ever know, and no one will ever compare to you.”
“You need to tell me,” I say.
“What? That I love you?” he asks. “I just did.”
