His Secret Addiction

Chapter Thirty-One

Damien's POV

Alex got the job offer on Friday. The startup from San Francisco. VP of Marketing, significant equity, full creative control. Everything he'd worked for his entire career. He told me over coffee that morning, reading from the email on his phone.

"That's incredible," I said.

"It is." He set the phone down. "They want an answer by Monday."

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking it's everything I wanted three months ago. Before everything happened." He looked at me. "Before you."

"Don't turn it down because of me."

"I'm not. I'm turning it down because I don't want it anymore." He picked up his coffee. "I want something smaller. Something I build myself instead of stepping into someone else's vision. The startup is great but it's still their company, their mission. I'd just be executing it."

"So what do you want?"

"I've been thinking about consulting. Marketing strategy for companies that actually need help, not corporations with bloated budgets." He leaned back. "Build my own client list. Work on projects I care about. Set my own hours."

"That's risky."

"So was falling in love with my boss." He smiled. "I'm getting comfortable with risk."

I reached across the table and took his hand. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you."

"Even if I fail spectacularly?"

"Especially then. I have experience with spectacular failure now. I can coach you through it."

He laughed. Actually laughed. The sound filled the kitchen and made everything feel lighter.

We spent the weekend doing nothing productive.

Saturday we slept late. Made breakfast together, which went better than Thursday's attempt. Alex had developed a system where he supervised while I did the actual cooking, correcting me before I could ruin things.

"You're getting better at this," he said, watching me flip pancakes without breaking them.

"I have a good teacher."

"You also have basic competency, which helps." He leaned against the counter. "What do you want to do today?"

"Whatever you want."

"That's not an answer."

I thought about it. "Something we've never done together. Something that's just for us."

He considered it. "There's a modern art museum in Brooklyn I've wanted to see for years. Never had time."

"Let's go."

We took the subway because Alex insisted it was faster than a car and I'd spent too much of my life in town cars anyway. The museum was small and quiet and full of art I didn't understand but pretended to for his benefit.

Alex stopped in front of a painting that was mostly blue with random slashes of red.

"What do you think it means?" he asked.

"I think someone threw paint at a canvas and called it art."

"Damien."

"What? That's clearly what happened."

He turned to me, trying not to smile. "You're supposed to interpret it. Find deeper meaning."

"The deeper meaning is that we paid twenty dollars to look at paint slashes."

"You're impossible."

"You like that about me."

He did. I could see it in his face. The way he looked at me like I was being deliberately difficult but he found it endearing anyway.

We moved through the museum slowly. He explained pieces I didn't care about and I listened because I cared about him explaining them. Stopped in front of sculptures and installations and photographs that all blurred together after an hour but I didn't tell him that.

In front of a particularly abstract piece, he took my hand without thinking about it. Just reached over and linked our fingers while reading the placard explaining the artist's vision.

I looked at our hands instead of the art.

Six months ago I didn't hold hands with anyone. Didn't do casual affection or public displays or anything that suggested softness. And now here I was in a museum in Brooklyn holding hands with someone who made me want to be softer.

"You're staring," Alex said without looking at me.

"You're worth staring at."

He turned then. "That was almost smooth."

"Almost?"

"You're getting better at this too." He pulled me closer. "The romantic gesture thing. You're less terrible at it than when we started."

"High praise."

"It is from me." He kissed me quickly. Just a brush of lips, nothing dramatic. But an older couple walking past smiled at us and something about that felt significant.

We left the museum around three and found a coffee shop that was too crowded and too loud. Sat at a tiny table with our knees touching underneath, drinking mediocre lattes and watching people pass by outside.

"Tell me something I don't know about you," Alex said.

"Like what?"

"Anything. Something you've never told anyone."

I thought about it. "I hate running companies."

He blinked. "What?"

"I'm good at it. But I hate it. The politics, the board meetings, the constant need to prove myself to people who will never be satisfied." I wrapped my hands around my cup. "My grandmother loved it. She thrived on the challenge. But I just felt trapped."

"Why did you stay?"

"Because it was expected. Because she built it and I couldn't let it fail. Because I didn't know what else I'd do." I looked at him. "And because I didn't have a reason to leave until recently."

"I'm a reason?"

"You're the reason." I said it plainly. No hesitation. "Everything else was an obligation. You're choice."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he reached across the table and took my hand again.

"I've never been anyone's reason before," he said. "It's terrifying."

"For me too."

"Good. We can be terrified together."

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

That night we cooked dinner together. Alex found a recipe online and we attempted chicken with vegetables that required actual technique. I only burned one pan slightly.

We ate at the table this time instead of the counter. Lit a candle because Alex said it made things feel less like we were just eating food and more like we were having dinner. I didn't understand the distinction but I lit the candle anyway.

"This is nice," I said halfway through the meal.

"What part?"

"All of it. This. Us. Doing normal things that aren't crisis management." I set my fork down. "I don't think I've ever had this before."

"Dinner?"

"Peace. Or whatever this is." I gestured between us. "The ability to just exist with someone without it being complicated."

"It's definitely complicated. We just got better at handling the complications."

"Same thing."

After dinner we settled on the couch. No books this time, no laptops. Just us. Alex curled against me, my arm around him, the television on but neither of us watching it.

"I'm turning down the job," he said quietly. "The startup. I'm saying no."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I want to build something myself. Even if it takes time. Even if it's scary." He tilted his head to look at me. "Because I have someone who won't let me fail alone."

"You won't fail."

"But if I do………."

"Then we figure it out together. Same way we've figured out everything else." I kissed the top of his head. "I'm not going anywhere, Alex."

"Promise?"

"Promise."