Chapter 8

DAMIEN'S POV

Tuesday came too fast.

I'd rehearsed what to say to Maya a hundred times. Apologize. Take responsibility. Don't make excuses. Dr. Reeves had coached me through it in our session Monday afternoon.

"Elara's best friend will likely be hostile," she'd said. "That's her job. She's protecting someone she loves."

"I know."

"Don't get defensive. Don't try to win her over. Just listen and accept whatever she needs to say."

Easier said than done.

I arrived at the gallery at six forty-five, early again. Couldn't help myself. The space was small but beautiful—exposed brick walls, warm lighting, carefully curated pieces. This was Elara's. She'd built this.

A woman stood near the back, arms crossed, watching me. Early thirties, sharp eyes, protective stance. Had to be Maya.

"You're early." Her voice was cold.

"I didn't want to be late."

"How considerate. That's new for you."

I deserved that. "You're Maya."

"And you're the asshole who destroyed my best friend. We've established who everyone is." She walked closer, looking me up and down like I was something she'd found on her shoe. "Elara said you have amnesia."

"Yes."

"Convenient."

"It's really not."

"Right. Because now you don't have to remember all the times you made her cry. All the nights she called me at two AM because she felt so alone in her own marriage. All the times I had to talk her out of blaming herself for your neglect."

Each word was a knife. I made myself stand there and take it.

"You want to know the worst part?" Maya stepped closer. "She made excuses for you. 'He's busy with work. He's under stress. His mother is demanding.' She loved you so much she convinced herself your cruelty was somehow her fault."

"I know. I've been watching old videos. Reading emails. I was—"

"A monster. Say it. You were a monster to her."

"I was a monster to her."

"And now? What are you now?"

"I don't know. Someone trying to be better."

Maya laughed. "Trying. Everyone's always trying. Do you know what trying got Elara? Three years of loneliness and a divorce that nearly broke her."

"I can't change the past—"

"No, you can't. So why are you here? What do you want from her?"

The question stopped me. What did I want?

"I want to understand. I want to make sure I never become that person again."

"That's about you. Not her."

She was right. "I also want—I want her to know that I'm sorry. That if I could go back and do things differently, I would."

"But you can't."

"No."

Maya studied me for a long moment. "She's starting to hope again. I can see it. And that terrifies me because you're going to hurt her again."

"I won't—"

"You will. Maybe not intentionally. Maybe your memory will come back and you'll revert to who you were. Maybe you'll decide this is too hard and disappear. Maybe you'll meet someone else and—"

"I wouldn't do that."

"You already did. You were married to her and treated her like she didn't exist. What makes you think you won't do it again?"

I had no answer.

The gallery door opened. Elara walked in carrying a box of wine glasses, stopping when she saw us.

"You're early."

"Both of us, apparently," Maya said, not taking her eyes off me. "We were just having a chat."

"Maya—"

"It's fine." I looked at Elara. "She's right to be protective."

"Damn right I am." Maya finally turned to Elara. "I'll be in the back room setting up. Yell if you need me to throw him out."

She left. Elara set down the box and looked at me.

"That bad?"

"I've had worse. Your mother threw a drink in my face when I told her we were getting divorced."

"I remember. You didn't press charges."

"She loved you. In her way." Elara started unpacking wine glasses. "Help me with these?"

We worked in silence for a few minutes. It felt strange, doing something normal together. Domestic.

"I meant what I said on the phone," I said quietly. "About Victoria. I'm handling it."

"By firing her."

"And cutting her out of my life completely. James is taking over her board responsibilities. I've changed all my passwords and locks. She can't interfere anymore."

"You really think it's that simple?"

"No. But it's a start." I set down a glass. "I also contacted a lawyer about the letters. What she did might be considered interference with correspondence. Potentially criminal."

Elara's hands stilled. "You're going to sue your mother?"

"I'm considering it. Not for me. For you. She destroyed our marriage deliberately."

"And a lawsuit will what? Give me those years back?"

"No. But it might give you justice."

She looked at me, something complicated in her expression. "I don't want justice, Damien. I just wanted to be loved."

The words gutted me.

"I know. And I failed at that. Completely." I moved closer, careful not to invade her space. "Can I show you something?"

I pulled out my phone and opened the photos app. The letters from Victoria's safe—I'd photographed every one.

"I had these digitized. Your letters. I've been reading them." I handed her the phone. "This one. From two years in. You wrote about wanting a family someday."

Elara took the phone, her hands shaking slightly as she read her own words from years ago.

"I don't remember writing this."

"You wrote about wanting two kids. A dog. A house with a garden where you could paint." I watched her face. "You had dreams, and I was so focused on work I never asked about them."

"Stop." She handed back the phone. "I can't do this right now. There are people coming for the event in twenty minutes and I can't—"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"No, it's—" She took a breath. "It's good that you're reading them. I just need time to process all of this."

People started arriving. Artists, collectors, art lovers. Elara transformed, becoming confident and professional. I watched her work the room, explaining pieces, making connections. This was her element. She was brilliant at it.

Maya appeared beside me. "She built this from nothing. After you."

"I can see that."

"She didn't just survive the divorce. She thrived. She became who she was always meant to be." Maya's voice was sharp. "So before you go thinking you want her back, ask yourself if you're willing to support this version of her. The successful, independent version. Not the version who made herself small to fit into your life."

"I would never ask her to be small."

"You didn't ask before. You just expected it."

She walked away before I could respond.

The event wound down around nine. I helped Elara clean up, Maya watching us like a hawk the entire time.

"Thank you for coming," Elara said as we packed the last of the glasses.

"Thank you for letting me."

"Maya was hard on you."

"She should be."

Elara smiled slightly. "She's usually worse. I think she actually might not completely hate you."

"Progress."

We stood there awkwardly. I should leave. This was my cue to leave.

"Can I ask you something?" Elara said.

"When you read the letters. What did you think?"

I considered lying, saying something safe. But she deserved the truth.

"I thought about how much time we wasted. How I had someone who loved me completely and I was too blind to see it." I met her eyes. "And I thought about how if I ever got a second chance, I'd spend every day making sure you knew you were seen."

"That's a nice thought."

"It's a promise. Even if you never take me back, even if we only ever see each other at random events in Seattle, I promise to be different. To be better."

Elara was quiet for a long moment. "I have a showing in Portland next month. Small gallery, local artists."

"Okay?"

"I'm driving down Friday afternoon. It's a three-hour drive and I hate driving alone." She wasn't looking at me. "If you wanted to come. Just for the drive. You could see what my work is actually like."

My heart stopped. "You're inviting me to Portland?"

"I'm inviting you to sit in a car for three hours. Don't read too much into it."

"I won't."

"And Maya will probably kill me for this."

"Probably."

"Friday. Two PM. Don't be late."

"I won't be."

She finally looked at me. "This isn't a second chance, Damien. This is me trying to figure out if the person you are now is real."

"I understand."

"Good." She grabbed her coat. "Now go home. I need to deal with Maya's lecture about what a terrible idea this is."

I left, my chest tight with something that felt dangerously close to hope.