Neighbor Dearest (27 page)

Dr. Tuscano continued answering my questions. My feelings went up and down on the matter. Just when I would conclude that the operation was the way to go, I’d look over at Damien and shudder at the thought of him having open-heart surgery. Even though the doctor had said dying during the procedure was rare, it
has
happened. I’d read a couple of stories online that terrified me. I would never be able to forgive myself if I encouraged him to do it and God forbid, he died on the operating table.

At the same time, what if we put it off out of fear and something happened to him that could have been prevented? It was impossible to feel comfortable with either scenario. The only thing I was sure of was that it needed to be
his
decision and that I would support him no matter what.

***

The Wednesday after Christmas, Damien left me a huge surprise on the kitchen counter.

Printed out were two e-tickets for direct flights from San Francisco to JFK.

“Damien? What are these?”

“It’s my apology for fucking up our first Christmas.”

“We’re going to New York?”

“Yes…for New Year’s Eve. You can see your sister. I know you said how much you missed her, since she couldn’t be here over Christmas.”

My eyeballs moved back and forth as I examined the details. “Okay…these are first class! During the holidays? These tickets cost a fortune.”

“We can afford it.”

“Are you serious?”

“We never go away, and we fucking deserve it. We need a change of scenery to try to forget about all of this depressing shit for a few days.”

Reaching on my tippy toes to embrace him, I cried, “I could hug you!”

“I hope I get a little more than that.”

“Oh, you’ll get
a lot
more than that.”

He lifted me into a kiss as I wrapped my legs around him. When he put me down, his expression turned serious. “I can tell you’ve been worried since the appointment yesterday. I just need a little more time living in denial with you, okay?”

“I can handle that.”

He put me down. “Let’s have some fun.”

***

New York City was a welcome change of pace.

We’d just gone to see Jade’s evening performance and were out to eat at a restaurant not far from the theater district. I’d gone to the bathroom when I heard two of Jade’s friends enter. One of them had apparently just arrived.

“Oh, my God, who is that guy out there sitting next to Jade?”

“That’s her sister’s boyfriend. His name is Damien.”

“Holy hell.”

“I know. He’s fucking hot. He’s visiting from California.”

“They grow them well in California, then.”

“Seriously. Makes me want to visit the West Coast. I’m sick of the guys here.”

When I emerged from the stall, the one I’d met previously bit her tongue.

“Oh, hey, Chelsea.” She turned to her friend to introduce me. “This is Jade’s sister.”

The other girl looked horrified. “You heard us.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. Your boyfriend is gorgeous. We were just admiring him and didn’t mean any harm.”

“Thank you. I know. None taken.”

Even though I couldn’t blame them, I still felt like strangling someone. As I washed my hands, I thought about the fact that I’d never felt this possessive over my former boyfriends. My feelings for Damien were at an entirely different level. The idea of someone trying to steal him—even just someone coveting him—made me crazy. Thankfully, he only ever seemed to have eyes for me.

When I returned to my table, I noticed he had moved seats and was talking to Jade. She smiled at me when I approached, and I suspected they were talking about me.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, still flustered by the bathroom incident.

Sensing my mood, Damien placed his arm around me and gently scratched his fingertips along my back. When the two women from the bathroom returned to the table, I possessively took his hand and wrapped my fingers in his.

A few minutes later, Jade’s co-star, Craig, showed up. He was the ginger guy I’d hung out with during my last visit here—the one Damien had seen me photographed with on Facebook. Damien immediately gave me a look that signified he recognized him.

When Jade introduced them, Damien offered him a firm but reluctant handshake.

Craig looked over at me. “It’s so good to see you again, Chelsea. I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“I know. This was a surprise trip.” I smiled, squeezing Damien’s hand tighter.

Together, we were a lost cause.

After dinner, Damien whispered in my ear, “That guy keeps staring at you, even with me sitting right here.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes, he is. I’ve been watching him.”

He suddenly let go of my hand, got up, and headed toward the bathroom.

My phone buzzed.

There’s no one in the men’s room right now. Get in here.

I slowly opened the door. Damien was standing right there and immediately pulled me into the handicapped stall.

“What are you doing?”

“Marking my territory.”

“Are you gonna pee on me?” I joked.

“Only if you want me to.”

“I don’t.”

“I’ll do better than that,” he said, flipping me around and lifting my skirt. He let out a deep breath onto my neck as he pushed deeply into me. With each thrust, I became wetter for him.

Spontaneous sex with him always felt good, but this time felt better than I could ever remember. As he fucked me from behind against the bathroom stall, he had no clue that I was just as revved up by jealousy as he was.

We could hear the main bathroom door open. That didn’t stop our pace. In fact, whenever Damien and I were close to getting caught, it often made things more frantic. I opened my mouth into a silent scream as I came hard and fast. I could feel his hot cum shooting into me.

His hands were on each side of me locking me from behind against the stall. “I love when you clamp down on me like that with your pussy.”

“We’d better go before Jade and her friends figure out what we’re doing.”

“Fuck that. I hope they do.”

***

The following day, Damien had taken a walk down the street from Jade’s to pick up takeout for lunch. The three of us were going to hang out at the apartment until she had to leave for her evening show.

It was the first time Jade and I were left alone, and I had to ask, “So, last night at dinner, when I was coming out of the bathroom, what were you and Damien talking about?”

“He apologized for cornering me at the restaurant but said he needed to know my opinion. He said he knows you open up to me and that he figured I knew everything that was going on with you guys. I told him I did. Then he wanted my opinion on whether I felt that you were truly okay with the no-kids thing.”

I blew out a breath of frustration. “I’ve been through this with him.”

“I know, but he realizes that I know you better than anyone. He just wanted a second opinion to make sure that I didn’t think you were kidding yourself.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that you are the most selfless person I know, but that I also know you wouldn’t do or say anything you don’t truly mean.”

“He said that after we figure out whether or not he’s gonna have heart surgery, he’s gonna get a vasectomy so that I don’t have to be on the pill forever.”

“God, that seems so final.”

“I know.”

“Do you have any doubts? You’d tell me, right?”

“Yes. I swear. I’m not gonna lie and say that it doesn’t make me sad, because it does, but I know how adamant he is. I can’t live without him, so I have to live with his decision.”

“Okay.”

When Jade hugged me, my eyes watered. It was the first time I’d actually cried thinking about not ever having babies with Damien; I vowed that it would be the last time I would cry over it.

The door opened, and he walked in carrying paper bags of Chinese food. I quickly rubbed my eyes, but it was too late. He’d noticed my tears.

Examining my face, he said, “Everything okay?”

“Yes. I promise. We were just talking, and I got a little emotional.”

Seeming doubtful, he looked over at Jade then at me. “Alright.”

***

Early that evening, Damien and I were walking hand in hand through SoHo when he said, “So, I’ve been keeping something from you.”

“Not again?” I teased.

“This is a good thing, my little wiseass.”

“What?”

“A friend of mine, who I met through an art forum, opened up a gallery here that’s dedicated to spray paint art. That’s why I wanted to come to this neighborhood before we left.”

“That’s so cool. Is that where we’re going now?”

“Yes, but that’s not all. I actually gave him one of my paintings.”

“It’s there?”

“Yup.”

“Which one?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

The gallery was small. Large canvases of spray paint art were mounted onto the brick interior walls. Faint jazz music played in the background.

“Let’s see if you can guess which one’s mine.”

We walked slowly through the gallery, stopping at each work of art. The images ranged from people to abstract shapes and colors.

“What is that?” I looked closer at the title of one piece in particular.

Le Nombril by Damien Hennessey.

“I guess I don’t have to guess anymore. This is it!” I tilted my head. “What is it?”

“Look closely.” He stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head. “It’s you.”

“Me? It just looks like a big swirly hole.” I suddenly felt hot. “That’s not my vagina, is it?”

His laughter vibrated against me. “Not
that
hole, baby, although, I could spray that all day long if you want. In fact, it would be my pleasure.” He guided me away from the canvas. “Step back.”

I finally saw it. “It’s my belly button. That’s right! You mentioned once that you’d painted it.”

“You are correct. That’s your belly button. My beautiful navel, otherwise known as
Le Nombril
. That’s the French term.”

“How did you manage to paint it?”

“Well, a long time ago, I did one from memory. You’d worn this half-shirt over to my apartment, and I took a mental picture. This version is the replication of an actual photo I took of you more recently while you were sleeping. I know you probably wouldn’t know the difference, but see all those grooves? They’re actually a pretty accurate depiction of yours. You’d be surprised how challenging it is to capture the details of a navel. One of the hardest paintings I’ve ever done, but it’s pretty much my favorite.”

“Is it for sale?”

“No. No way I’m giving that away to anyone. This is just for display.”

“Well, I think you’re the only person in the world who’d appreciate it.”

“I truly love every inch of you.”

I looked into his eyes and knew he’d meant that with all of his heart and soul.

***

New Year’s Eve in Times Square was just as spectacular as I’d always imagined. Swimming in a crowd of people, I cuddled with Damien who wrapped me in his shearling-lined coat as he hugged me from behind.

When the ball dropped, we kissed so hard it felt like my lips were going to fall off.

Damien flipped me around toward him and repositioned the coat over me as a blanket. “It freaks me out to think that this time last year, I was watching all of this, staring at Ryan Seacrest on the television and thinking it was just going to be another year of the same. I’d automatically assumed I’d be stuck in the same rut, screwing around with women I didn’t care about, painting all day. I didn’t think that was a bad life, but I really didn’t know better. I thought I was pretty happy. Turns out, I didn’t know happy from a hole in the wall.”

I smiled, appreciating the wall reference as he continued.

“I didn’t have a fucking clue. I didn’t know that true happiness would only come from a girl I hadn’t met yet. It’s hard to believe that this time last year, I didn’t even know who Chelsea Jameson was. Now, I don’t even know who I am without you.”

My heart felt like it was bursting with a mixture of love and fear. There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t seem to form the words. It was very hard for me to articulate what I was feeling, so I simply buried my head against his heart and said, “This is gonna be a good year, Damien. I just know it.”

Damien was right. The New York trip had been a much-needed change of scenery. It went by all too fast.

The next day, on our flight home, Damien held my hand as our plane slowly descended in preparation for its landing in San Francisco. The sun was shining into the aircraft, illuminating his beautiful eyes as he looked at me and said, “I think I’m gonna do it.”

My chest tightened. I knew full well what he was referring to but asked anyway.

I braced myself. “Do what?”

“The surgery. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna schedule it when we get back.”

Squeezing his hand tighter, I put on a brave face and smiled despite filling with fear. “Okay.”

I suddenly wished that we could have just stayed airborne.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

UNINTENTIONAL VOWS

Damien’s surgery was scheduled for the twenty-eighth of February, which was a little over a week away.

I’d been doing everything in my power over the last month and a half to remain strong for him. He didn’t need to see that I was scared shitless; that wouldn’t help anything. So, I quietly dealt with my anxiety on my own. I went and saw a therapist a couple of times during my lunch breaks and began taking something mild to take the edge off.

The past few weeks had consisted of lots of special appointments in preparation for the surgery. Damien had to have an echocardiogram; he met with his surgeon and anesthesiologist and also underwent a number of blood tests.

We’d decided that the upcoming weekend before his surgery was going to be low-key. We would do something relaxing and try to get our minds off of things.