His Secret Addiction

Chapter Thirty-Four

Alex's POV

The first consulting project went better than expected.

Three weeks in and the client loved everything I'd presented. They extended the contract and referred me to two other companies. By the end of the month I had more work than I could handle alone.

Damien watched me stress about it over dinner one night.

"You need help," he said.

"I need to clone myself. There's a difference."

"Hire someone. An assistant, a junior consultant, whatever. You can't do everything yourself."

"I just started. I can't afford to hire anyone yet."

He gave me a look. "Alex, you're charging enough that you can absolutely afford help. You're just scared to expand."

He was right. I was building something and terrified of it getting too big too fast. Of it becoming the thing I'd left Ross Industries to avoid.

"What if I hire someone and it doesn't work out?" I asked.

"Then you let them go and try again. That's how businesses work."

"You make it sound simple."

"It's not simple. But it's necessary." He reached across the table. "You're good at this. Stop sabotaging yourself by trying to do everything alone."

I posted a job listing that weekend. Had twelve applications by Monday. Interviewed three people and hired a recent graduate named Casey who was smart and hungry and reminded me of myself five years ago.

"I hired someone," I told Damien that night.

"Good. How does it feel?"

"Terrifying. What if I'm a terrible boss?"

"Then you'll learn. Same way you learned everything else." He pulled me onto the couch. "Stop expecting yourself to be perfect at things you've never done before."

"That's rich coming from you."

"I know. That's how I know it doesn't work."

************************

Damien signed the papers selling his shares on a Tuesday.

I came home to find him sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of whiskey, staring at nothing.

"You okay?" I asked.

"I just sold my grandmother's company."

I sat next to him. "You sold your shares to your sister who will protect it better than Sterling ever would. That's different."

"It still feels like giving up."

"It's not giving up. It's choosing something else." I took his hand. "What did Victoria say when you signed?"

"That grandmother would understand. That she built the company so we'd have options, not obligations." He drank the whiskey. "I want to believe that."

"Then believe it."

We sat in silence for a while. Then Damien stood.

"I want to go somewhere," he said.

"Where?"

"I don't know. Somewhere we've never been. Somewhere that has nothing to do with New York or business or any of this." He looked at me. "Can you take a week off?"

"I have Casey now. She can handle things." I stood. "Where are we going?"

"Let's find out."

We left Friday morning. Drove to the airport and looked at the departure board. Found a flight to Portland leaving in two hours. Bought tickets and got on the plane without a hotel reservation or a plan.

Portland was gray and rainy and perfect. We found a small hotel near downtown. Spent the weekend walking around the city, drinking coffee in tiny shops, eating food we couldn't pronounce.

No schedule, no agenda, just wandering.

Sunday we drove to the coast. Found a beach that was rocky and cold and completely empty. Walked along the water while rain threatened but never quite came.

"I've never done this before," Damien said.

"Walked on a beach?"

"Left without a plan. Just gone somewhere to go somewhere." He picked up a rock and threw it into the ocean. "It feels irresponsible."

"Good irresponsible or bad irresponsible?"

"Good, I think." He turned to me. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For making me do things that scare me. Like leaving without planning. Like selling the company. Like all of this." He gestured between us. "I wouldn't have done any of it without you."

"You would have eventually."

"No. I would have stayed miserable and called it duty." He pulled me closer. "You made me want something different."

I kissed him. Salt air and cold wind and the sound of waves crashing. Nothing romantic about the setting but everything romantic about the moment.

We stayed on that beach for hours. Skipped stones, walked in circles, sat on driftwood and watched the ocean. Talked about nothing important and everything that mattered.

"What do you want?" I asked. "Now that you've sold the company, now that you're starting over. What do you actually want?"

He thought about it. "I want to invest in things I believe in. Help people build companies that matter instead of running one myself." He looked at me. "I want time to figure out who I am without a title. And I want to do all of it with you."

"That's a good list."

"What about you?"

"I want to build something sustainable. Not huge, just good. Something I'm proud of." I leaned against him. "And I want more of this. More unplanned trips and bad weather and beach walks. More time when we're not in crisis mode."

"We can do that."

"Promise?"

"Promise.”

***************,,

We flew back Wednesday.

The apartment felt different when we walked in. Same space, same furniture, but somehow lighter. Like we'd left something heavy in Portland and come back without it.

Damien's phone rang immediately. Victoria with questions about transition details. He answered, talked for five minutes, then hung up.

"She wants me to consult on the new CEO search," he said.

"Are you going to?"

"No. She can handle it." He set the phone down. "I'm done with that part of my life."

I believed him.

That night we cooked dinner together. Damien only burned one thing slightly. Progress. We ate at the table with the candle lit because it had become our routine now.

"Casey sent over the client reports," I said. "Everything looks good. She's better at this than I expected."

"Told you hiring help was smart."

"You're annoyingly right about things."

"I know." He reached across the table. "What's your schedule like next week?"

"Two client calls, one pitch meeting. Otherwise flexible. Why?"

"Thought we could drive upstate. Find a cabin somewhere. Spend a few days doing nothing."

"We just got back from Portland."

"I know. I liked it. Want to do it again."

I smiled. "Okay. Let's go upstate."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Later, in bed, Damien pulled me close.

"I'm happy," he said. Like it surprised him.

"Good."

"I don't think I've been actually happy since before my grandmother died. Maybe longer." He was quiet for a moment. "I forgot what it felt like."

I turned to face him. "And now?"

"Now I remember. And I don't want to forget again."

"Then don't." I kissed him. "Keep doing things that make you happy. Keep choosing this."

"I will. Every day."