Chapter 15: Damian's Last Offer

The parking court was a gravel square behind the terrace, lit by two lanterns and a long line of idling cars.

Damian caught me between a valet stand and Malcolm's black car.

"Gillian, please," he said. "Two minutes."

Malcolm stopped three feet away and folded his arms.

He didn't speak.

I gathered the stained skirt in one hand and turned around.

"You have one," I said.

Damian had lost his tie somewhere.

His hair, which had never moved in a year of knowing him, had fallen over his forehead.

"My father just cut me off," he said. "In front of two hundred people."

"I heard."

"He took my cards in the car park, Gillian. He took my keys."

"Now you know how it feels," I said.

He winced, and I almost felt sorry.

Then I remembered his voice saying postpone.

"I made a mistake," he said. "I let your father talk me into all of it."

"You asked me to apologize to Lydia for a dress my brother poured wine on."

"I know. I was frightened."

"Of what?"

"Of him." He took a step closer. "Of all of them. Gillian, listen, it was never about Lydia."

I waited.

"Lydia was my parents' idea," he said. "She's loud, and she's bored, and she's cold when nobody's watching."

"You were the one I wanted."

A car door shut somewhere behind us.

I didn't turn my head.

"I'd marry you tomorrow," Damian said. "Quietly, wherever you like. You could keep every share. I'd sign anything you put in front of me."

"You've been engaged to my sister for two weeks."

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