Chapter 284: So Much for Moving On...

"It is bad!" I whisper-yelled.

Joey opened his mouth to respond, but I pointed at him. "Don’t."

For once, he listened. I was about to say something else when I felt a change behind me...no sound, no warning, but I knew.

My shoulders stiffened, and Maya’s eyes widened, Joey’s face fell.

I didn’t turn around; I didn’t have to...the air felt charged, like the calm before a storm.

Joey cast a small, apologetic glance my way, mouthing, "I’m sorry," before grabbing Maya’s hand and they disappeared, leaving me alone.

Shitty cowards, both of them...Joey got married just hours ago and already fleeing at the first sign of discomfort.

Good survival instinct, or the start of a long pattern? I stood there, pondering if I could pretend not to notice.

Maybe if I just stood still, Damien would get bored and leave. Wishful thinking. I could feel him behind me, so I slowly turned.

He was just a few feet away now, close enough to see the subtle changes time had carved into him.

His jaw was sharper; his shoulders broader. His hair was longer and styled even more neatly now, unlike the messy strands bed head after sex I remembered.

His eyes, though, were exactly the same...cold blue and unreadable.

But I knew those eyes all too well; I had spent months learning them.

His gaze swept over my face before settling on my eyes, and then he let that familiar, controlled smirk form on his lips.

"Hello, Sunshine."

His voice hit me like a punch, deeper, smoother, but fundamentally the same.

I stared at him, finding my voice. "Don’t call me that."

His smirk widened, the familiar look he’d wear when deciding whether to enjoy my annoyance. "It’s been four years."

"Yeah, I can count."

"Almost four years and you still haven’t grown an inch."

I gasped. How dare he???

Was he drunk? Four years he pretty much forgot about me! About our promise!

And now he returns, and he comments on my height?!

I looked him up and down like I was conducting an audit. "You’ve gotten more annoying, fucking asshole."

A flicker of amusement passed through his eyes, maybe even relief.b"I missed that."

I hardened my expression. "That’s unfortunate."

The amusement dimmed just a bit, but he held my gaze for another second, like he was trying to catalog every difference and every stubborn similarity.

"How have you been?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Very fine."

"That’s good."

"Wonderful."

We stared each other down, and the tension thickened. This felt absurd. After four years, this was how we were speaking?

Fine. Good. Wonderful. It might as well have been two strangers discussing the weather.

Except strangers didn’t know each other’s favorite coffee orders. Strangers didn’t know what side of the bed the other preferred. Strangers didn’t spend years remembering the sound of someone’s laughter.

I looked away, feeling like locking eyes was an invitation for emotional harm. "So, you’re here."

"I am."

"I can see that."

His mouth twitched. "You haven’t changed much either."

"I’ve changed plenty."

"You’re still sarcastic."

"That isn’t a flaw."

"I didn’t say it was."

I looked back at him. For a split second, we were silent. I could smell his cologne; it was different, more expensive, cleaner, but still familiar in a way that irritated me.

"You look well," he said finally.

I shrugged, aiming for indifference but landing somewhere near hostility. "So do you."

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

His eyes drifted briefly toward Connor, then returned to me.

"Your friend?" he said.

"Connor?"

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Yes...whatever his name is."

"He’s Maya’s coworker."

"I see."

"He asked me to dance."

Damien’s eyes stayed locked on mine. "I saw."

I swallowed. "Okay."

Another silence settled, heavier this time. I didn’t know why he was bringing up Connor and why I even responding. Maybe I wanted him to know I wasn’t waiting for him.

Maybe I wanted to prove something. Or maybe I was just hoping it would get under his skin. The last idea made me uncomfortable, which only made me more determined to keep talking.

Damien glanced toward Connor again. "He seems... nice."

"He is."

"Good."

I nodded. "Yes."

His fingers twitched slightly at his side. For a brief moment, I thought he might reach for me, but he didn’t. Instead, his hand relaxed again.

I glanced at it, then quickly looked away because staring at someone’s hand for too long can feel like a confession.

"So," I said, trying to sound casual and mostly failing, "CEO life treating you well?"

"It keeps me busy."

"I’ve seen."

"You’ve seen me?"

The question threw me off for a second, but I recovered quickly because revealing too much felt risky. "You’re... on the news a lot."

"Occasionally."

"You’re difficult to miss, so irritating. Almost bashed my tv with a hockey stick everytime your dumb face started showing."

He looked at me, and the intensity of his gaze made my chest tighten. "So you’ve been watching me "

"No." I answered too quickly, and his eyebrow raised just like it always had when he caught me lying.

"I mean, not intentionally. Like I said, I wanted to destroy the tv."

Another faint smile. "I understand."

"You don’t have to look so pleased with yourself."

"I’m not."

He chuckled, and the sound hit me harder than it should have. I hadn’t heard it in almost four years, and my body reacted before my mind could kick in.

For a brief moment, I was back in Preston Hall, back in Room 25, back when Damien would sit at the table with his books while I filled the air with nonsense, pretending I wasn’t noticing how his lips would lift whenever I managed to annoy him.

Then that memory vanished, leaving me in the present with the man who owned too much of it.

I straightened.

"So, congratulations," I said.

"For what?"

"The company, the donations. Everything you’ve achieved and shit."

His expression softened, and he said quietly, "I’m glad you think so."

I locked eyes with him, sensing a change in his tone. Not enough for anyone else to catch, but I noticed; I always did.

I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I did what I was best at...shutting it down.

"Well, I should probably get back to the reception." I said.

Damien’s gaze held mine. "Of course."

I turned slightly, ready to walk away. "Enjoy the wedding."

"Oliver."

I paused, glancing back at him. His expression had returned to calm, controlled, almost unreadable.

Yet there was something lurking beneath the surface, something I couldn’t exactly label.

"It’s good to see you."

My throat tightened. I forced a small smile that felt like damage control instead of genuine warmth.

"You too."

It was a lie.

Partly. Because seeing him in real life was good. Therein lay the problem; it was also painful, confusing, everything I had spent four years trying to ignore.

I stepped away, then another. But the noise of the ballroom suddenly felt overwhelming. People were watching us, whispers traveling through the crowd.

Connor lingered nearby, Maya pretending not to observe, and Joey doing a terrible job of looking innocent of all this.

I needed air and I glanced at the doors leading outside. "I need a minute."

Damien nodded. "All right."

I started walking, but then I heard him call out.

"Oliver."

I stopped again, not turning around.

"Can we talk?" He asked.

My eyes closed for a brief moment. Of course...four years without a word, and now he wanted to talk.

I glanced at the ballroom doors, then back at the man behind me.

The wedding buzzed around us, bright and lively, completely oblivious to how badly my carefully organized life had just been upheaved.

I’d spent four years learning to live without Damien Lockwood. And now, after all this time, he was seeking a conversation as if four years were just an insignificant pause.

Finally, I turned to face him. He looked at me like time hadn’t passed at all.

I looked at him like every single day I had spent missing him still hurt