7. The Explanation

Claire's POV

Damien stood in the foyer for a moment as though he wasn't entirely certain he wanted to be there and the sight alone told me more than I wanted to know.

His suit jacket was gone. His white shirt was creased in places that suggested he had been wearing it far longer than intended. Dark shadows lingered beneath his eyes and his normally immaculate appearance carried the unmistakable signs of a man who hadn't slept.

For four years, I had learned to read Damien the way other people read books. I knew when he was irritated before he spoke. I knew when he was worried before he admitted it. I knew when he was exhausted before he acknowledged it himself and right now, Damien Laurent looked exhausted.

The problem was that exhaustion didn't answer any of the questions that had kept me awake all night.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The apartment seemed strangely quiet despite the sounds of Manhattan drifting through the windows behind us.

I folded my arms across my chest not because I was cold but because I needed something to do with my hands.

Damien looked at me, really looked at me, his eyes traveled briefly over my face, and something shifted in his expression. "You look tired."

The comment almost made me laugh because I had spent the entire night wondering where my husband was and apparently I looked tired. "What a remarkable observation," I replied.

A flicker of guilt crossed his face.

"Claire."

The way he said my name was careful as though he was approaching a conversation he already knew he wasn't going to enjoy.

I looked away first because if I kept staring at him, I might say something I couldn't take back. "You didn't come home." The words slipped out quietly.

Damien exhaled slowly. "No."

I nodded because the answer itself wasn't surprising I had eyes and I had spent the night staring at an empty side of the bed but what hurt was how easily he said it as though the fact barely required discussion.

"I noticed."

For a brief second something that looked suspiciously like amusement touched his mouth but it disappeared almost immediately, unfortunately, I had seen it. The fact that I had managed to be sarcastic while feeling miserable was apparently entertaining.

Typical Damien.

The silence stretched when eventually, he moved further into the apartment and loosened the top button of his shirt a small gesture and an ordinary gesture, yet watching him do it felt strangely intimate.

The realization irritated me because I was angry with him or at least I should have been. My heart clearly hadn't received the memo. "Are you hungry?" I asked. The question escaped before I could stop it.

Damien blinked. "What?"

"I asked if you're hungry."

A slight frown appeared. "Claire."

"What?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

I stared at him. "Because you've been gone all night you look exhausted and if I know you at all, you have probably survived on coffee and bad decisions."

To my annoyance, the corner of his mouth twitched again. "I've had breakfast."

"I don't believe you."

"I did."

"What did you eat?"

The hesitation lasted half a second and that was all the answer I needed.

I sighed. "You forgot."

"I was busy."

"You forgot."

"I was occupied."

"That is a very corporate way of admitting I was right."

For the first time since entering the apartment, Damien actually smiled it wasn't a big smile most people probably wouldn't have noticed it but I did I always did.

The sight hurt because it reminded me of all the reasons I loved him and this was not the morning I wanted to remember those reasons. Damien walked into the kitchen and I followed some habits were impossible to break while he sat down at the island counter I opened the refrigerator and started assembling something resembling lunch.

Neither of us spoke for several moments the quiet wasn't comfortable it wasn't uncomfortable either it felt like two people standing on opposite sides of a conversation neither knew how to begin.

Eventually, Damien broke the silence. "You saw the news." It wasn't a question.

I placed a plate in front of him. "Yes."

"You saw the photographs." Again, not a question.

"Yes."

He nodded once then picked up his fork and for a moment I wondered whether that was all he intended to say but then he surprised me. "Tiffany contacted me yesterday because she needed help."

I froze not visibly because years of professional experience prevented that. Internally, however, every thought immediately sharpened there it was the explanation or at least the beginning of one.

I leaned against the counter. "What kind of help?"

Damien looked down at his plate before answering. "She's been living overseas for several years."

I waited and when it became obvious he intended to stop there I raised an eyebrow. "That's wonderfully vague."

A sigh escaped him. "Claire."

"No, seriously. If you tell Olivia that sentence she will immediately assume Tiffany has joined an international crime syndicate."

To my surprise, he laughed, actually laughed the sound lasted only a second but it still caught me off guard. "She hasn't joined a crime syndicate."

"Good, that's reassuring."

Damien rubbed a hand across his jaw and for the first time, uncertainty entered his expression and that alone made me pay attention. Damien was many things but uncertain was not usually one of them.

"When Tiffany left," he began carefully, "everyone assumed she simply changed her mind."

I remained silent the entire world had assumed exactly that.

"It wasn't that simple." The statement settled heavily between us.

I watched him closely. "What does that mean?"

His eyes drifted toward the window and for a moment he seemed somewhere else entirely. Back four years ago to a wedding that never happened and to a woman who disappeared. "There were things happening that I didn't know about at the time," he said quietly. "Things involving her family like financial issues and problems she was trying to deal with on her own."

I frowned because that wasn't the story the media had reported not even close. "She never told you?"

"No." The answer came immediately as though that fact still bothered him.

"Then how do you know now?"

"Tiffany told me."

The words were simple yet they made my stomach tighten because despite everything, despite four years of silence, despite the humiliation and the abandonment, Damien had listened. He had gone to her, stayed all night and he had listened.

The realization stung and I hated that it did.

Damien looked directly at me. "Nothing is happening between us."

The statement arrived so suddenly that it caught me off guard and for several seconds, I simply stared at him. He held my gaze steady and certain as though he genuinely wanted me to understand.

"Claire," he continued. "I need you to believe me when I say that."

The sincerity in his voice made my chest ache because I did believe him that was the problem. I believed Damien, I believed that he wasn't secretly having an affair and I believed that he hadn't spent the night rekindling some grand romance but belief didn't erase fear because feelings were rarely logical and Tiffany's return changed things whether either of us wanted it to or not.

I looked down at my hands. "I want to believe you."

His expression softened slightly the words seemed to surprise him. "Then why does it sound like that's difficult?"

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it not a happy laugh just a tired one. "Because four years is a long time to spend hearing about the woman someone loved before you."

The moment the words left my mouth, silence filled the kitchen. I hadn't planned to say that and certainly not out loud.

Damien stared at me and for the first time all morning he looked completely caught off guard. Something moved through his expression something complicated and something I couldn't quite identify.

Before either of us could speak again, his phone buzzed the timing felt almost cruel.

Damien looked at the screen then back at me as a strange look crossed his face.

"What?" I asked.

He hesitated and suddenly I knew I wasn't going to like the answer. "Tiffany needs a job."

The words seemed to come from nowhere. I blinked. "What?"

Damien set his phone down. "Her situation is complicated."

I had officially reached my limit for the word complicated. "That's becoming my least favorite word."

His expression remained frustratingly calm but then he delivered the sentence that made my stomach drop. "I've decided she's going to work at Laurent Group temporarily."

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe because Tiffany was no longer a memory she was no longer a headline she was no longer a woman staying in a hotel across the city and she was about to become part of our daily lives ad judging by the look on Damien's face, the decision had already been made.