Chapter Twenty-One
Ordinary people are a puzzle, but Damon is the only one who’s ever interested me. The only one I wish I could solve. And never more than right now, as the darkness sets in.
It takes me a few days to realize that he’s serious about not going. I think I actually go through the first two stages of grief—denial, when I’m sure he’s secretly packing his bags and heading to the airport. Anger, when I consider dumping the eggs benedict that appears outside my door on his sleepy, beautiful body where it reclines in bed.
Then I get to bargaining, and it feels like more than a stage. It feels like the answer.
This is what Damon understands in his bones, the way other children know about love or security. He understands the value of the gamble. The value of pushing your chips in
