His Secret Addiction

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Damien's POV

Sunday morning started with coffee and Alex planning his proposal.

He'd been secretive all morning, making phone calls in the other room, typing things on his laptop he minimized when I walked by.

"You're being obvious," I told him.

"I'm being prepared. There's a difference." He closed his laptop. "Be ready to leave at two."

"Where are we going?"

"That's the surprise part."

At one thirty, Trevor called.

I hadn't heard from him in months. Not since he'd called to apologize before his wedding. Seeing his name on my phone felt wrong.

"Don't answer it," Alex said, seeing my expression.

I answered anyway. "Trevor."

"Damien. I need to talk to you. In person. Today if possible."

"I'm busy today."

"It's about the book. The one I'm writing about our relationship and what happened." He paused. "My publisher wants to release it next month. I wanted you to know before it goes public."

I went completely still. "You're writing a book about us?"

Alex looked up sharply.

"About my life. Our relationship is part of it. I thought I should give you a heads up."

"You sold our private relationship to the press three years ago. That wasn't enough?"

"This is different. This is my story. My truth. What I went through." His voice got defensive. "I have a right to tell it."

"Tell whatever story you want. Just leave me out of it."

"I can't. You're a major part of what happened." He paused. "Look, I'm trying to do the right thing here. I could have published without telling you. But I wanted to give you the chance to read it first. Make sure I got things right."

"I don't want to read it. I don't want it published. Our relationship ended three years ago, Trevor. Let it stay."

"It's already done. The book is written. It's going to print." He sounded almost apologetic. "I'm offering you a chance to fact-check it before it's too late."

"When?"

"I'm in New York today. We could meet this afternoon."

I looked at Alex. He was shaking his head.

"No," I said. "Email me whatever sections mention me. I'll review them and send corrections. But I'm not meeting you."

"Damien—"

"That's the offer. Take it or publish whatever you want and deal with my lawyers afterward."

I hung up.

Alex was already standing. "He's writing a book about you?"

"About himself. I'm apparently a supporting character in his redemption narrative."

"Can you stop it?"

"Not legally. He can write whatever he wants as long as it's not provably false." I sat down heavily. "He's emailing sections for me to fact-check."

"Today. On the day I'm supposed to propose." Alex looked furious. "He's doing this on purpose."

"He doesn't know you're proposing today."

"He knows something. This timing isn't coincidence." Alex grabbed his phone. "I'm canceling the reservation."

"Don't. We're not letting Trevor ruin this."

"Damien, you need to read whatever he sends and figure out how bad this is."

"I can do that tomorrow. Today you're proposing and we're celebrating and Trevor can wait." I stood and took the phone from his hand. "Please. I don't want to give him today."

Alex looked at me for a long moment. Then nodded. "Okay. But we're dealing with this tonight."

"Deal."

At two, Alex took me to the place we'd first met in person.

The hotel where we'd both shown up after three months of anonymous conversations, where we'd discovered we'd been talking to each other the whole time.

"We're going inside?" I asked.

"We're going to the roof." He led me through the lobby to an elevator. "I reserved it for the afternoon."

The roof was set up with a small table, two chairs, a bottle of wine. The city spread out around us. It was private and perfect and completely unexpected.

"This is where everything started," Alex said. "Where we went from anonymous to real. I wanted to propose here because this is where I first understood what we could be."

He pulled out a ring box. Got down on one knee.

"Damien Cross, will you marry me? Will you keep choosing this, choosing us, even when exes write books and crises happen and life gets complicated? Because I want to be complicated with you. I want everything with you. For the rest of my life."

"Yes. I already said yes yesterday."

"This is the official one. So say it again."

"Yes. I'll marry you. Obviously."

He slid the ring onto my finger. It matched the one I'd given him perfectly. We'd somehow managed to buy identical rings without coordinating.

We sat at the table and drank wine and looked at the city below. Everything felt perfect until my phone buzzed with an email from Trevor.

I ignored it. It buzzed again. Then again.

"Read it," Alex said. "You won't be able to focus until you do."

He was right. I opened the first email.

Three chapters. All focused on our relationship. How we met, how we dated, how I'd supposedly been emotionally unavailable and cold. How my work had always come first. How he'd felt neglected and alone until he'd made the mistake of going to the press.

The way he wrote it, I was the villain. He was the victim who'd lashed out in pain.

"This is a lot of revisionist history," I said, scrolling through.

"What does it say?"

I handed him my phone. Let him read while I drank more wine than I should have.

Alex read in silence. When he finished, he set the phone down carefully.

"He's painting himself as the wronged party," Alex said.

"He is. Very effectively."

"Can you sue?"

"For what? It's his perspective. Legally he's allowed to have one." I refilled my glass. "The real problem is this goes public next month. My name is attached to a book about toxic relationships and betrayal. Just when I'm trying to move on."

"So we respond. Publicly. You tell your side."

"I don't want to tell my side. I want to forget it happened." I looked at him. "I'm sorry. This is your proposal day and I'm spiraling about my ex."

"You're allowed to spiral. This is big." He reached across the table. "But we handle it together. Like we handle everything else."

My phone buzzed again. Trevor called.

I answered. "What?"

"Did you read it?"

"I read your very creative interpretation of our relationship. I'm not approving any of it."

"I'm not asking for approval. I'm asking for fact corrections. Dates, places, specific events. I want to get that part right at least."

"Trevor, this entire narrative is wrong. You betrayed me. You sold private information to the press for money. There's no version of that story where you're the victim."

"I was lonely. You were never around. I made a mistake born from pain."

"You made a choice born from greed. Own that."

"I'm trying to move forward with my life, Damien. This book is part of that. I'd hoped you'd understand."

"I understand you're using our failed relationship to sell books. That's clear."

"If you're not going to help, then I'm publishing as is." He sounded frustrated. "I gave you the chance to shape this narrative. You're choosing not to."

"I'm choosing not to participate in your redemption arc at my expense." I hung up.

Alex was watching me. "What now?"

"Now we finish celebrating our engagement. And tomorrow we will call lawyers and figure out damage control." I stood and pulled him up. "But tonight, this is about us. Not Trevor. Not the book. Just us."

"You sure?"

"Completely sure."

We stayed on the roof until sunset. Drank the whole bottle of wine. We talked about wedding plans instead of legal strategies. Focused on the future instead of the past.

Walking home, both wearing our rings, I felt lighter than I should have given the circumstances.

"Thank you," I said.

"For what?"

"For not letting me cancel today. For making me focus on this instead of Trevor."

"We're engaged. That's more important than your ex's bad decisions." He squeezed my hand. "Though tomorrow we're absolutely dealing with the book situation."