“So logically you got on a plane to Colorado instead of calling?” I crossed my arms.
“I was feeling sentimental,” he said in that soft tone he reserved for apologies as his eyes did a once-over down my frame. “You look good, Georgia. Really good…softer, if that makes any sense.”
The grandfather clock chimed. “Don’t bother taking off your coat. You’ll be gone before it chimes again.”
“Fifteen minutes? Is that really all I’m worth after everything we’ve been through?” He tilted his head and flashed a playful dimple. Emotional extortion it is.
“Counting the time we dated, I’ve already given you eight years of my life. Trust me, fifteen minutes is generous.”
I’d tried to avoid the comparison the entire time I’d been with Noah, but with Damian standing in front of me, it was impossible not to note the differences. Noah was taller, stacked with lean muscle, and held himself with the constant awareness of his body that had developed from years of climbing. Damian was none of those things.
He looked washed out, and what I’d once considered rather angelic was suddenly…meh. The blue of his eyes had nothing on Noah’s dark brown ones. Had I ever really been attracted to Damian? Or was his interest in me what had lured me in?
“I like what you’ve done with it,” Damian noted, glancing around the foyer.
“Thanks.” I’d repainted, going with a white and gray theme as I’d slowly transformed the house from Gran’s to mine. The master bedroom was next—and last—on the list. “You’re using up your time.”
His eyes flashed to mine, narrowing slightly. There you are. “I was hoping to talk to you about The Things We Leave Unfinished.”
“What about it?”
“I want to make you an offer, and before you tell me no, hear me out.” He put his hands up, then took an envelope from inside his coat. “For old times’ sake.”
“Old times,” I mused. “Like when you slept with your assistant? Or that one makeup artist? Or maybe when you got Paige pregnant and didn’t have the balls to tell me about it, which led to the time I read all about my husband’s baby mama from the sixteen billion text messages in the middle of Gran’s wake?” I tilted my head. “To which of those old times are you referring?”
The veins on his neck bulged above the collar of his coat, and he had the grace to flush. “Those are all regrettable memories. But we have good ones, too. I’m here to help, not hurt, and I have a contract all ready for you to sign. I know Scarlett’s money is tied up in all that charity work, so if you need a little extra, I’ll even look at some of her other works to option. I don’t want to see you suffer.”
“How magnanimous of you,” I drawled. “But you don’t have to worry about me anymore. My gallery is doing just fine since I got back to creating the art I love—you know, when I’m not doing all that charity work.”
He scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Deadly.” I deadpanned. “I never wanted the money. That was all you. And let me guess, that little contract you’re so generously offering me not only gives you the rights to The Things We Leave Unfinished, but it also confirms your ownership in the five other options you haven’t exercised yet, since I’m no longer part owner of Ellsworth Productions?” I asked sweetly.
“You know.” His face went slack.
“I’ve always known.” My voice dropped. “Why do you think I walked away without a fight? There was nothing about you worth keeping.”
“It won’t hold up in court,” he bluffed.
“It will. My lawyers have always been better than yours. Gran saw to that when she had those same lawyers word the contract to include in so far that Georgia Constance Stanton remains co-owner of Ellsworth Productions. She didn’t trust you with her stories, Damian. She trusted me. You were just too busy counting dollar signs to read the damn thing yourself.” I heard the distinct purr of an engine coming up the drive.
His eyes flared with panic. “Gigi, let’s talk about this. You know how deeply I cared for Scarlett. Do you really think this is what she’d want? It would have killed her to know you divorced me. That you gave up on us.” His expression changed again. Ah yes, guilt.
“Gave up on you? She never liked you in the first place, and this conversation was over the minute the divorce papers were finalized. But I do have one question for you.” I shifted my weight, hating to put myself in the position of needing anything from him.
“Anything.” He swallowed. “You know I’m not married yet, right?” He stepped forward, and the familiar scent of overpowering cologne hit me like milk left too long in the refrigerator—everything good having turned rancid. “We can work this out. Go ahead, ask me whatever you want.”
No thank you.
“Did you know who I was that day we met on campus?”
He startled.
“Did you?” In that moment, I saw myself through his eyes. A nineteen-year-old freshman, desperate for love and validation. An easy mark.
“Yes,” he admitted, raking his hand over his hair. “And I know who you are now, Gigi. Yes, I’ve made some bad choices, but I’ve always loved you.”
“Right. Because sleeping with other women—a lot of other women—is definitely how you show you love your wife.” I paused, giving myself time for the pain to hit, but it didn’t come. “Oddly enough, my mother warned me.”
My front door flew open and Hazel stumbled in, her hair windblown and her eyes wild. “Oh my God, you have to come watch!” She stopped suddenly, her eyebrows hitting the ceiling at the sight of Damian. “What. The. Hell?”
“Hazel.” He gave her a wry smile and a nod.
“Asshole.” Her eyes narrowed at him as she moved to my side.
“Damian was just leaving,” I said with a quick grin as the clock chimed. “His time is up.”
“Gigi,” he begged.
“Goodbye.” I walked to the door and held it open. “Give my best to Paige and…what did you name your son?”
“Damian, Jr.”
“Of course you did.” I motioned to the open door. “Drive safely, now. The pass gets slick this time of year.” The sound of the door shutting was more satisfying now than it had been the day I’d left our New York apartment.
“Did you tell him?” Hazel asked, unzipping her coat and hanging it in the hall closet.
“About the options? I did. It was fun.” I grinned and tucked my hair behind my ears. “Now, what did you fly in here in a tizzy about?”