All of Me

He leaned down and brushed a kiss across her lips. The contact was brief, but it seared her nonetheless. “Can I take your jacket?” He took it off and handed it to her. The jacket still held his warmth and smell, and she resisted burying her nose in it. She hung it in the front closet and led him to the living room. “Do you want something to drink or eat?”

“No, thanks.”

She sat on the sofa, and he lowered himself beside her. For the longest time, he just sat with his head lowered and said nothing. “Damian, what’s going on? Did you change your mind about us?” He lifted his head and Karen held her breath, waiting for his response.

He shook his head. He seemed to struggle with words, and she asked again, “Then what is it?”

Finally, he spoke in a voice so low, she had to lean closer to hear him. “Sunday marked five years since my wife died.”

Wife? Karen had no idea what she had expected him to say, but this was not it. She sat in stunned silence for a moment, then covered his hand with hers. “I’m so sorry.” She wanted to ask him a million questions, but the agony reflected in his face made her wait until he was ready to talk.

* * *

Since reading her note, Damian had tried to come up with a gentle way to tell her, but in the end, he just said it. The look on her face had gone from guarded to shock in a blink. He brought the hand covering his to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on the back. “I’m sorry for not calling and for sending that text, but I didn’t know how to explain.” He closed his eyes briefly to gather his thoughts. “It’s not as bad or frequent as it used to be, but sometimes the grief comes out of nowhere.”

“Tell me about her.”

It was his turn to be shocked. The last woman he’d gone out with told him she didn’t want to compete with his dead wife and didn’t understand why he hadn’t gotten over it after all this time. Karen squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Her name was Joyce, and I met her when I was fifteen.” Damian told her about taking her under his wing, their growing friendship and subsequent marriage.

“How long were you married?”

“Twenty-one months. I came home from work late one afternoon and found her lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. She was just lying there...so still. She’d hit her head and sustained a severe brain injury.” He felt his emotions rising and that deep, searing gut pain as if it were happening all over again. “She woke up briefly, then slipped into a coma. I stayed there all day and night waiting for her to wake up—praying, hoping—but she never did. Two days later, she was gone,” he finished in an agonizing whisper. Damian didn’t realize he was crying until Karen reached up to wipe away his tears.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Her words and the way she held him shattered the remaining thread of control he’d held on to for five long years, and he cried in her arms. And she cried with him, whispering that she would be there for him.

Gradually, their tears stopped, but he continued to hold her in the silence. Damian couldn’t believe he had broken down like that. He had cried at Joyce’s funeral, but not like this. This time it felt as though his soul had been cleansed.

Several minutes passed before Karen asked, “Do you still love her?”

“If you’re asking whether I’m still in love with her, the answer is no. She’ll always hold a place in my heart and I will treasure those memories, but it doesn’t diminish or change what I feel for you. I’ve been ready for some time and was lucky enough to meet a classy and unique woman who I can move forward with into a beautiful new life.” He kissed her tenderly and rested his forehead against hers. “Thank you for coming into my life.” He drew her closer. Now that he had shared his past, albeit not the way he had planned, he wanted to know about hers. “What about you? Have you ever been married?”

“No, but I came close. One minute we were looking at wedding rings, the next my career choice didn’t fit with his high-society family and friends.”

Damian leaned away and stared at her disbelievingly. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope.”

A memory surfaced in his mind. When they were eating lunch in Jamaica, she had tensed and almost seemed reluctant to answer when he asked her about her job. Now he understood why. He listened as she told him about the conversation she’d overheard and about the other woman. He shook his head. “Sweetheart, that man is a fool. I know that’s what you were probably thinking at first tonight, but please believe that I would never do that to you. You’re very special to me.”