88 Chapter 91
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Chapter 91 Sterling’s Stand: “I Can Wait”
I sank back into the plush leather seat of Damien’s car, intending to just close my eyes and pretend to sleep. It seemed like the easiest way to avoid conversation after that loaded lunch with his mother. The gentle hum of the engine, combined with the warmth of the heated seats and the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers against falling snow, had other ideas.
Before I knew it, my fake sleep became real. Deep, consuming sleep.
When I finally stirred, I was momentarily disoriented. A weight lay across my body— something heavy but soft. It took me several seconds to realize it was Damien’s coat draped over me like a blanket. Even more alarmingly, we were parked outside my company building.
“What time is it?” I mumbled, straightening up and rubbing my eyes.
“Almost 2:30,” Damien replied, his voice tinged with amusement.
I shot upright, fully awake now. “2:30? I’ve been asleep for an hour and a half?!”
He nodded, looking far too pleased with himself. “You were tired. I didn’t want to wake
you.
Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized I must have been deeply asleep–maybe even snoring–right next to him this entire time. Had my mouth fallen open? Had I made strange noises? The mortification was overwhelming.
“I have a meeting in thirty minutes,” I said, gathering my things in a rush. “I need to get inside and prepare.”
“Of course.
I reached for the door handle, desperate to escape the confines of the car and my embarrassment. “Thank you for the ride. And for… letting me sleep.”
“Hazel.”
Something in his tone made me pause, my hand still on the door.
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“I need to say something before you go.”
My stomach tightened with nervousness. “Can it wait? I really need to-
“No,” he said gently but firmly. “It can’t wait.”
I reluctantly settled back into my seat, clutching my purse on my lap like a shield. “Okay.”
Damien turned slightly in his seat to face me directly. His eyes were intense, focused solely on me in a way that made my skin tingle.
“I have feelings for you.” He said it simply, without preamble or hesitation. “Strong feelings.”
The air left my lungs in a rush. Of all the things I’d expected him to say, this direct confession wasn’t one of them.
“Damien-”
He held
up a
hand. “Please, let me finish.” When I nodded mutely, he continued. “I know your divorce isn’t even officially final yet. I know you’re still healing. I’m not asking you to jump into anything you’re not ready for.”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say.
“You don’t need to say anything right now.” His voice was steady, certain. “I just wanted you to know where I stand. I’m interested in more than friendship with you, Hazel. And I’m willing to wait–one month, one year, five years if that’s what it takes–until you’re ready.”
My heart pounded against my ribs. “I… I can’t think about relationships right now. It’s too soon after everything with Julian.”
“I understand that. His gaze never wavered from mine. “And I respect it. This isn’t me pressuring you—it’s me being honest about my intentions. I don’t want there to be any
confusion.”
I
ran a shaky hand through my hair. “This is a lot to process.”
“I know.” His lips curved into a small smile. “But I also think you’ve felt something too. Those moments between us… they’re not one–sided.”
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Heat crept up my neck at his perceptiveness. There had been moments–brushes of hands, lingering looks, that awareness that seemed to buzz between us whenever we were together.
“Even if that’s true,” I finally managed, “I’m not in a place where I can act on it. I’ve just gotten out of a six–year relationship that ended horribly, I need time.”
“Time is something I have plenty of.” His calm confidence was both reassuring and unnerving. “All I’m asking is that you don’t run away from whatever this is because you’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid, I protested automatically.
His eyebrow arched slightly. “Aren’t you?”
The question hung between us, uncomfortable in its accuracy.
“I should go, I said, reaching again for the door. “My meeting…”
This time he didn’t stop me. “Go. I’ll pick you up Friday at seven for the school anniversary event.
I paused, my heart skipping. “That’s still happening?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because of… this conversation.”
Damien’s expression softened. “Hazel, nothing has changed except that now my cards. are on the table. I’m still the same person I was an hour ago, and you’re still you. The only difference is now you know exactly where I stand.”
There was something incredibly freeing about his straightforwardness–no games, no manipulation, just honest communication. It was the opposite of everything I’d experienced with Julian toward the end.
“Okay,” I agreed, gathering my courage. “Friday at seven.”
His smile was warm enough to melt the snow outside. “I’ll be here.”
I slipped out of the car, the cold air a shock after the heated interior. As I stepped onto the sidewalk, I realized I was still clutching his coat.
“Your coat!” I turned back.
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“Keep it for now,” he said through the open door. “It looks better on you anyway.”
Before I could protest, he added, “Have a good meeting, Hazel. I’ll see you soon.”
The door closed, and I stood watching as his car pulled away from the curb, my mind. reeling from his confession. Damien Sterling had feelings for me. Strong feelings. And he was willing to wait however long it took for me to be ready.
No man had ever offered me that kind of patience before.
I hurried toward the building entrance, my cheeks burning despite the cold winter air. My fingers unconsciously tightened on the lapels of his coat, which still carried hist scent–sandalwood and something uniquely him. The weight of it felt like his presence wrapped around me, both comforting and overwhelming.
As I reached for the door, my mind was so distracted by replaying our conversation that I nearly walked straight into the building’s fire exit instead of the main entrance. At the last second, I swerved, stumbling slightly in my haste.
“Ms. Ashworth! Are you alright?” The security guard looked concerned.
“Fine!” I called back, my voice higher than normal. “Just… distracted.”
That was an understatement. As I headed toward the elevator, heart still pounding, one thought kept circling in my mind: What on earth was I going to do about Damien Sterling?
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