“I want to meet ’im,” Ma announced with a bob of her head. “I want to meet this lad who fucked you over and now is your partner.”
Oh, my God.
“You won’t have a go at ’im, will you?”
“You gonna do anythin’ about it if I do?” she challenged with a raised brow.
“Hell no, I’m not stupid.”
“I’m not goin’ to grill ’im.” She grinned, amused by my answer. “I just wanna meet ’im. You’re a grown woman who can make ’er own decisions on who she has in ’er life … but, I will gut ’im if he ever hurts you. That I can’t back down on, so you’ll just have to accept that ’ere and now.”
I chuckled. “Understood.”
“Brilliant.” She reached for my hand. “I’m happy for you; a new relationship is so excitin’. The beginnin’ is a magical time.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” She winked.
I knew she was thinking of my da then, and I had to resist the urge to ball my hands into fists.
I stayed at my parents’ house for an hour, chatting with my ma before she went to bed for a nap. Along with Barbara, I drove back to my apartment. I closed all the doors once inside and let Barbara out in the sitting room. That way I wouldn’t lose her if she hid somewhere. She seemed to be content with hiding under the sofa, so I went into my bedroom, tied my hair into a bun on the top of my head, then changed into my work clothes. I grabbed my sketchpad and pencil case from the spare bedroom and returned to the sitting room.
I also grabbed my laptop from the coffee table and switched it on. I emailed Morgan and gave him the password to my website and work email so he could get a head start on organising everything for me. I checked my calendar, noting the next day work began on a project for an author who wanted me to design a post-apocalyptic young adult fiction book cover. Her email had been very detailed, so I was excited to get a start on it.
After I emailed Morgan the information, I pulled my pad onto my lap and spent an hour drawing a portrait of Barbara on eight by ten paper. Once I had the initial sketch outline drawn, I used charcoal to define it, and just as I was finished, a knock sounded at my apartment door. I frowned as I stood and walked out the hallway.
“Who is it?”
“Your boyfriend.”
I opened the door and beamed at Damien.
“How’d you get up here without me buzzin’ you in?”
“I came by just as Kane was coming home from the store with Aideen and the boys.” He shrugged, leaning against the door panel looking too hot for words. “I came up with them.”
“Did they ask why you were comin’ to see me?”
“Obviously.” He smirked. “Aideen is so excited we’re datin’ that she screamed.”
I snorted. “Alec high fived me when I saw ’im at the shelter.”
I stepped back and gestured for Damien to come into the apartment, but he was too busy roaming his eyes on me to see it.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his eyes lingering on my face.
I raised a brow. “I’m pretty sure I’ve charcoal on me nose.”
“You do. You have some on your cheeks and forehead too.” Damien nodded. “And you’re still stunningly beautiful.”
I flushed at the compliment, and it brought a smile to Damien’s face. Not a grin or a smirk, but a real smile, and it was gorgeous.
“You’ve such a pretty smile.”
He pushed away from the door panel, stepped forward, and brought his hands to my cheeks and cupped them, stroking his thumb over my skin.
“I’m sure I’m supposed to be the one sweet talkin’ you.”
“Does the Man Bible say that?”
Damien smiled wider. “It does.”
“I’ll shut up and let you sweet talk me then,” I said, placing my hands on his waist. “Wouldn’t want to feel the wrath of Nico and his trusted Man Bible.”
“A wise decision,” Damien murmured.
He lost his smile, and his eyes were now locked on my lips. I closed my eyes the second his lips touched mine, and before a real kiss could even begin, I thought of Barbara, pulled back, and gasped, “Close the door. Barbara is out of ’er crate!”
Damien spun and quickly closed the door as I rushed into the sitting room, dropped to my hands and knees next to my settee, and looked under it. I almost shook with relief as I sat back on my heels and said, “She’s still ’ere.”
Damien was standing behind me, and he looked relived but when he glanced at my sketchpad on the settee, he smiled.
“You drew Babs?”
“Babs?” I repeated.
“Everyone has a nickname, and Barbara’s is Babs. Deal with it.”
I snickered. “Yeah, I drew Babs.”
“You’re crazy talented, baby.”