A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Mixed reviews on people thinking it was a mature reason to break up and some thinking Damon was being a dumbass. Haha. I agree with both sides. I think Damon needing to pursue his career that he has worked years and years to build is a mature thing to do. Even though he loves Elena he has worked incredibly hard to be where he is at. However he was incredibly immature to leave without talking about it with her first. He should've told her he was planning on moving, and not waited until the literal last second. But I think that is classic Damon IMO. He is very self-destructive in relationships. Once he "gets the girl" he is quick to screw it up. But luckily they love each other and they always find their way.
I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm sure you'll be a little surprised by the end of it...
DPOV
3 months later
"These are great," the creative director said as he flipped through the shots from the high-end women's fashion magazine I just shot yesterday. "I would've never thought to shoot from this angle, and have the model lay in the water."
"Yeah, I'm glad it turned out," I agreed. "It was a risk."
"You're incredibly talented," he went on. "I want to book you again."
"I would love that," I smiled.
"I think we should go with these six images for the spread," he pulled six images lining up next to each other.
"Sounds good," I nodded. "I'll edit them on my end and then send them over to the team by Thursday."
"Awesome," the creative director clapped his hands together. "I'll be in touch." He grabbed his jacket off his chair and headed out.
I grabbed my stuff and headed home too. I dropped my equipment off at my tiny ridiculously expensive apartment and then headed out to the bar across the street.
I was a regular at this bar, the bartenders didn't even need to ask what I wanted anymore. I just sat down, they poured me some bourbon and I sat and drank until my heart's desire… or until I passed out.
I made a new friend here. His name is Alaric, but I just call him Ric. He is also a regular at the bar. We don't say much to each other we just sit next to each other and get drunk. Every once in a while, we'll talk about the current football game or make fun of other drunk people. But I kind of enjoy the fact that I don't know about him, and he doesn't know about me. We're just two pathetically sad people getting numb together.
I sat down at my stool, next to Ric who was already there. One of the bartenders, Liv poured me a bourbon before walking away. "Ric," I nodded towards him before drinking my bourbon in a quick gulp. I usually sipped on it, but I was needing the numbness quick tonight.
"Bad day at work?" He silently judged me.
I enjoyed the burn in my throat, "Work was good, actually." And it was. The shoot went well. It was smooth, quick and there weren't any major bumps. But one of the model's voices sounded eerily similar to Elena's and it fucking destroyed me. Every time she opened her mouth, I was reminded of how much of an idiot I was.
"I was thinking," Ric slurred. "I don't really know much about you."
"I was starting to like you Ric," I eyed him. "Don't ruin it."
"This could be fun," he gestured for live to come over. "We can make it like a game."
I looked at him annoyed. My only friend in this uppity city was about to be dumped. "I can promise you this won't be fun."
Liv appeared, and Alaric asked her to pour ten shots of whiskey. She looked at him like he was nuts but did it anyway.
"Clearly you and I are miserable, so why not get it all out," he gestured to the shots. "For every shot, you reveal one miserable fact. Whoever has the worst life wins, and loser pays for the winners drinks for the next two weeks."
Not a bad idea actually. I was up for free drinks for the next couple of weeks. I was confident I would win this one, "Alright, you go first."
Ric grabbed a shot glass, "I moved to this shitty city for my wife, and I teach history to a bunch of wanna be influencers," he took the shot in one quick gulp.
"Rough," I chuckled before grabbing one of the shots. "The first serious girlfriend I had, broke up with me before college, and when I came home on Thanksgiving break, I found her fucking my brother." The shot burned as it went down.
"Fuck man," Alaric shook his head. "Did I mention my wife had a long-term affair… with a woman." He downed another.
"That's kind of hot," I shrugged. I grabbed another shot as I reluctantly revealed more of my dark past, "I didn't talk to my brother for over a decade and then he died in a car accident." Shot 2… down.
"Man… that's awful," Ric grabbed another shot. "I've been single for three years now, and I'm still living in this shit city because of that woman."
"Well…" I grabbed my third shot. "I fell in love with my dead brothers' wife, pretty much right after the funeral."
Alaric choked on absolutely nothing. "You're fucking twisted man."
I grabbed another shot, knowing I was winning anyways. "She is literally the most perfect woman on the planet, and I lost her… For this," I gestured to bar looking around. "I moved to a mind-numbing city, to shoot pictures of narcissistic models, modeling for rich billionaire companies. And I pay for a ridiculously priced apartment so I can spend nights alone after I drank myself to complete numbness so I can forget that I was a fucking idiot."
Ric let out a low whistle, "You win."
I took another shot from the lineup of drinks.
"Is she hot?" He asked.
I dug my phone from my jacket pocket. As the screen flickered to life, I could feel the alcohol starting to have an effect already. I opened up my photos and my stomach sank as a gallery of photos of that adorable smile and doe eyes looked back at me. I hadn't looked at these in a long time. I knew it would be a bad idea. I clicked on a photo and slid my phone to Ric.
"Woah!" Ric exclaimed looking at the picture. It was one of her on our trip to New York. In that tight red dress. "Damn, you are an idiot."
Ric slid my phone back to me and I couldn't help but stare at the photo. I swiped my thumb looking at more.
I felt myself swallow as I looked down at my phone and it was the topless one of her on the couch. My heart ached as I remembered promising her it was for my eyes only. Looking at the picture made me coil. I must have looked at it a million times when we were together, but I couldn't bear to look at it now.
It wasn't just the fact that she looked amazing in the picture, and she had the most glorious tits in the world. It was the way she looked at me in the picture. I remember her eyes were looking at me so trusting… like I would never hurt her.
I put my phone back in my pocket and took another shot… and then another.
"So, you broke up with her?" He asked.
"Sort of," I wiped the liquid running down my chin. "I signed a lease here before telling her I was thinking about moving here."
"Are you stupid?" He asked.
"I fucked up," I growled. "Leave me alone."
"Have you talked to her since?"
"No," I shook my head. "I don't even know what I would say."
"Probably doesn't matter anymore," Ric grabbed another shot drinking the last one. "A girl that hot is probably already taken after your dumb ass let her go."
I glared at Ric. Just the thought of another man having his hands on her made me shake with rage. "I will punch you," I warned.
"I'm just saying man," he held up his hands in defense. "Anything from her will be a down grade for you."
I couldn't argue with that. She had it all. And to think she thought she wasn't enough. The truth was, that I wasn't enough. I couldn't give her the things she wanted… the things she deserved.
"There had to be something bad about her that made you leave," he tried. "Was she crazy? Was she a nag? Bad in bed?"
"She was amazing in bed," My drunk mind thought about some pretty great memories I couldn't forget, even if I wanted to. "She was not a nag, and she wasn't crazy." I sighed, "she wanted my brother. And I wasn't him."
"What makes you say that?" He wondered.
"He was Mr. Perfect. Went to college, made a steady income, hopeless romantic, wanted the whole white picket fence golden retriever two kids and minivan life." I sucked in a breath before finishing off my glass of bourbon from earlier.
"You don't?" He asked.
I set down my empty glass, and gave Alaric a pat on the shoulder, "So did I win?"
"You could've shown me a picture of her, and you would've won," he chuckled.
I gave him another pat before standing up, "I'll see you next time," I said before stumbling out the door.
The next morning, I awoke with a pounding headache. I stumbled from my bed to the kitchen to take some Advil, before hoping in the shower. No matter how much I tried to think about other things, like the photos I had to get started editing, or how I needed to make a mental grocery list, I could never get her off my mind.
I let the boiling water run down my body as memories played in my head, some good and some bad. I often thought back to where it all went wrong. I went from totally crazy happy with her to packing up and leaving her behind. I never loved her any less, my career was just taking off. As soon as I would fly back home my phone would be ringing to have me come back and work. And the fighting was killing me. I could tell she was miserable, always waiting on me. And as time went on, I realized it was only getting harder. I wanted her to be happy. So, I left.
After I finished washing up, I dried myself off and got dressed, in a t-shirt and jeans. I poured myself some cereal and I scrolled through my phone.
It was a bad habit… almost stalker-ish of me. But I checked her social media nearly every day. I couldn't help but wonder if she had moved on. Every morning I'd breathe a sigh of relief when nothing had changed. She wasn't someone who posted a lot. Sometimes she'd post a picture with her friends or family, but she mainly just promoted her book.
Her book came out shortly after we broke up, and even though I had already read it, since she had given me a copy for my birthday, I still went out and bought one. Seeing the headshot, I took of her on the back had me both sad and happy. It reminded me of better days… Days that I would never have again. But it made me happy to know that she still used them, despite everything.
It was a good book. She was an incredible writer. Romance wasn't really my thing when it came to books, but knowing it was coming from her heart made it far more interesting.
I followed along as she was traveling around doing book signings. She promoted the cities she would be in, and she'd post pictures of all the places she was going. She seemed to have quite the buzz.
I froze as I saw her latest post. She would be in LA… today. I looked at the time on my phone, and before I could even decide if it was a good idea, I grabbed my car keys and headed out the door. The place she would be doing her book signing at was not awfully close to me, plus the LA traffic, who knew how long it would take me.
As I sat in traffic, I tapped my fingers impatiently on my steering wheel. I had no plan on what I was going to say, if she would even listen. I had no idea what to expect from her. The night we broke up she was a mix of mad, sad, and understanding. Something I didn't deserve. I wished she would've slapped me silly and told me I was making a huge mistake. I don't know if that would have changed anything, but it would make me feel a lot less guilty. She had way too much grace.
Maybe I was being selfish for even thinking this was a good idea. I knew that this wasn't going to be a grand gesture that turned into hugs and kissing and a cheering crowd. This wasn't a movie. She'd probably have 30 seconds to talk to me, and the shock of seeing me will probably eat up the first 20 seconds. But I needed to see her. Just one more time, in the flesh. At least so I could say sorry. I never got to say I was sorry.
Once I got to the book signing, I felt so out of place. Most of the people in line were women. The few men that were in line were clearly dragged here by their girlfriends or were way too in touch with their emotions. I stuck out like a sore thumb in my black t-shirt, and tattoos. There were a lot of people here, and I was anticipating waiting in line for a long time. Quite possibly half my day. I was impressed for someone so new to writing, that they would be this popular.
"Oh my gosh," I heard the women in front of me talk to her friend. "Did you finish it?"
"Yeah," she smiled excitedly to her friend. "That makes me so excited for the next one."
"Do you think the guy will be a new love interest?"
"I don't know," she looked at her phone. "I can't believe she teased the next one."
I tried peering over the girls' shoulder, but I couldn't make out anything. I pulled out my phone and went back to her social media. Sure, enough she had a link that was for the first chapter of the next book in the series. I opened it and read through it, needing to waste time anyways.
It was mainly a lot of her explaining her feelings of heart break, and the way she described it… It was like she was in my head. Her explanation of heart break was exactly what I was experiencing.
As I got to the last little part I froze.
"You look like you could use a drink?" A deep voice interrupted my self-pity.
I snapped my head up to see two ocean blue eyes looking down at me, "I'm fine," I whispered.
"Here," the disheveled black-haired bartender poured me an unwarranted shot. "Might help you get laid."
My jaw dropped at his bold and vulgar comment. "No thanks," I grimaced.
He just smirked. "Pull the stick out your ass, sweetheart."
Before I could say anything, he turned away, throwing a towel over his shoulder to serve someone else. His Raven tattoo on the back of his tricep staring back at me.
I could suddenly feel the raven tattoo on the back of my tricep like it was on fire.
I knew that she had started her second book while we were dating, but I was shocked that after everything she still wrote me in. Obviously like her first book, it wasn't an exact telling of our love story. I mean Stefan wasn't a guy named Shawn from England, and they didn't break up, he died. But as far as his personality and looks went, it was identical.
Boy were people going to be upset when the main character Elle didn't get a happily ever after… again.
"I like the idea of a bad boy," the girl spoke in front of me. "Sometimes Shawn was too much for me. He was always so broody and emotional. Don't get me wrong their love was epic, but I wish he had a little more… balls."
"I liked him," the other girl frowned. "I would be devastated if she fell in love with someone else."
"Might be a good thing," she shrugged. "Might make Shawn come back."
"True," she smiled.
It was very strange to hear two people talking about my love life. They had no idea that the raven tattoo man was standing directly behind them. And the girl they were about to meet was the main character.
"I think he's an idiot," I spoke loud enough for the girls in front of me to turn and look at me.
They seemed confused, like they weren't sure if I was talking to them or not. "I mean what kind of asshole tells a pretty girl to pull a stick out of her ass?"
The one girl giggled, and blushed. I realized I had an effect on women, and the way I smirked made women feel all flustered. "He's a bad boy. All bad boys are jerks at first."
"And then what?" I asked.
"Then they reveal their good side," the other one said.
"Don't get your hopes up sweetheart," I smirked. "The bad boys are still bad in the end."
They both looked at each other and giggled at each other before facing forward.
It felt like an eternity for the line to move forward. Slowly but surely, I was getting closer to the front, and she was almost in view. I still had no idea what I was going to say. Anything I had come up with just didn't seem like it could equate to what needed to be said. I needed more than 30 seconds.
There she was. Just six feet in front of me. Her smile was genuine and pure as she talked to strangers, signing their books. She was laughing and enjoying herself. I was lost in a trance looking at those beautiful doe eyes. In three months, she didn't look too different her hair was still long in loose curls like she always had it. Her perfect tan skin seemed like it was glowing it was so perfect. She must have been wearing a nice dress. It was a pale pink color, that hugged her nicely. I could only see her from the chest up, but she was even more beautiful than I remembered.
Before I knew it the girls in front of me walked up to her and were chatting with her. They had the line off to the side, so she wasn't paying attention to it. She had no idea I was there. And I still had no idea what I was going to say. My brain was racing but was coming up with nothing.
The security guy gestured for me to go ahead, as the two girls left. My legs felt like jelly as I made the last few strides to her. She was currently turned towards her book editor? Publicist? I wasn't sure who it was. And for some idiot reason my sarcastic side came out and I couldn't stop myself.
"I see you couldn't resist writing about me," I leaned forward my hands on her table. I could feel myself smirking and I had no idea how. Because on the inside I was a mess.
She turned her head towards me, and all happiness drained from her face. It was like she was seeing a ghost. Her eyes looked into mine and she looked like she might be sick.
"Oh no," her publicist looked at Elena. "Are you nauseous again?"
Elena looked down suddenly nervous, "You don't have a book," she barely whispered.
"I didn't come here to get a signature Elena," my sarcasm gone. "I wanted to talk."
"I don't have time," she looked at her publicist like she needed help.
Her publicist handed her water, "Should I get you something to eat?"
Elena shook her head, "no," she looked at me and she looked nervous. Her breathing was uneven, and she adjusted herself in her chair.
"Why don't you take a ten-minute break," her publicist patted the top of Elena's hand before turning to me. "Sorry," she apologized. She had no idea we knew each other, I'm sure she thought I was some weird fan. "She's just not feeling well… stupid pregnancy hormones." The woman laughed.
I stood up from the shock that just ran through my body. Elena's eyes flickered to mine and her skin paled. Was I hearing her correctly? Did she just say pregnancy hormones?
There were two possibilities and both of them made me want to vomit. Either some guy knocked her up in the time we broke up, or I did, and she kept it from me. I didn't know which one scared me more. "How far along?" I barely whispered.
Her silence had me thinking it wasn't me and I wanted to beat the shit out of whoever touched my girl. I could feel the rage building inside of me, as images of another man fucking her played in my mind. "How far along are you, Elena?" I said more sternly.
"I'm sorry sir," her publicist interrupted me. "We have to keep moving."
"Answer me," I ignored the lady. "Is it mine?"
Her publicist looked between the two of us as realization dawned on her.
"Yes," she barely whispered, her eyes cast down.
Half of me was relieved and the other half was about ready to vomit. Me? A dad? I didn't know the first thing about kids. I never thought I'd have them.
"I need a break," Elena stood up.
The evidence was clear to me now under her dress. She was a tiny person, and she had the littlest bump protruding from her stomach. She was about to escape, when I grabbed her wrist. "We need to talk about this."
"I have to go to the bathroom," she yanked her wrist back.
"We are talking about this," I demanded. "Are you staying here tonight?"
"I fly home early tomorrow," she shook her head. "I'll be too tired."
"Perfect," I smiled with no joy. "I'll come with you. "
"That's not necessary," she argued.
"You're carrying my child," the words were so foreign coming out of my mouth. "It's necessary."
She turned away, as security escorted her to the bathroom. I quickly jumped out of line, and immediately booked myself a plane ticket to get home tomorrow. I then left quickly, needing to edit those photos so I could leave tomorrow and stay back home for a while.
A/N: What'd you think? Please leave a review, and I will see you next week :)
