Accept Me by J. L. Mac Page B

strands of hair that have gone astray, but he catches my wrist in midair.
    He stands abruptly and covers my mouth with his in a passionate kiss that steals my breath. My tongue slides against his, battling for territory, but it’s impossible to keep up with Damon. It always has been. Just as quickly as the kiss began, it ends. He breaks away from me and I see that his eyes have gone icy, stilling the heart in my chest. No.
    “Go,” he orders with such finality that I wince.
    “Wh—”
    “Leave.”
    There isn’t a shred of tenderness left in him and I feel my naked body shrinking before him. For the first time, I feel vulnerable and exposed to him. I scramble to pull my discarded robe back on.
    “I don’t know what—”
    “It’s simple, Josephine. Get your things and go. I’ll make arrangements for you. You’ll have what you need. Brian will call you tomorrow to sort out the details.”
    I’m completely caught off guard. I was about to make love to my fiancé and now I’m being shoved away, tossed out—fucking abandoned! I’m sure that the confusion I feel is written all over my face. “Are you…” I begin hesitantly, scared to say the words.
    “Breaking it off? Yes.”
    Just like that, cold, indifferent Zombie Damon is back and I hate him for it. I shake my head fervently.
    “No. You can’t do this to me,” I plead. “I’m sorry. Please don’t do this to us.” Tears break through and spill onto my cheeks.
    “I just did.” He pushes away from me and strides coolly from his office, leaving me. Maybe forever.

 
     
     
    I didn’t say goodbye to Grams and when I went to find Damon, he was gone. I slipped the diamond ring off my finger and left it sitting on Damon’s side of the bed. I packed a few of my things in a daze and drove myself back to the penthouse in silence. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t think. All I could do was replay his words in my head. Damon left the house before I did and is likely forgetting me over a bottle of booze right now. Maybe even a woman or two.
    Thoughts of Creamsicle Carrie, that slut of an interior decorator, and various other plastic women falling over themselves to get ahold of the newly single Damon Cole bombards my shattered heart with mental images I’m far too fragile to entertain at the moment. I wish I had the stomach to drink. I could go for a glass of wine or two. Or ten. Instead, I rummage through the fridge in the kitchen and manage to dig out a freezer burned pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream to drown my sorrows in.
    “Jo? Baby?” Brian calls.
    “I’m in here,” I say around a mouthful of cookie dough.
    Brian steps into the bathroom reeking of condolences and sympathy. Fan-fucking-tastic. “Oh, honey,” he coos with his bottom lip rolled out mocking a look of dismay.
    “Don’t. I can’t—I… Fuck! ” It’s next to impossible to keep the emotion out of my voice. Rather than face him, I slip down under the bubbles of the full tub I’m soaking in and let the water wet my hair completely. I resurface to see Brian sitting on the toilet across from me.
    “Why are you in here?” he asks, looking around at the guest bathroom.
    “Because it doesn’t make me want to die.” My answer is simple and couldn’t be more true. The master suite here at the penthouse is full of memories that I can’t bear to revisit right now, especially with the prospect that those memories may be all I have left of Damon.
    “Oh,” he says knowingly, focusing on his neatly folded hands.
    I flip the toggle on the spigot back and forth with my toes, staring straight ahead.
    “Come on. You can’t sit in there forever.” Brian pulls me to standing and hands me two folded towels. “There’s a robe right over there, sweetie. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
    After drying off and wrapping myself up in the robe that Brian left me, I venture out into the living room to find him on the phone with his back to me.
    “She’s a mess, Boss, but