The Husband Beside Me(63)

“Of course, Mrs. Evans.”

“So I hear your mother died,” I said, knowing he needed to be pushed. Daimon always wanted to butt heads and vent his anger.

“Yeah, my drunk mommy died,” he grunted as he sat hunched over. I walked inside and knelt before him. I watched as he picked up a glass filled with whisky. He gulped it down, not hesitating once.

“So this is what you want? I mean you want to become a drunk like your mother?” I pushed harder.

“Yeah, Addie, I want to be a fucking drunk, just like her,” he snarled.

“Good. At least you’re on the right path,” I said coldly.

“You’re a bitch, you know that,” he said spitefully.

“And you’re an asshole,” I remarked. “So we’re even.”

It hurt like hell doing this to him. But Daimon wouldn’t want me to comfort him; he would want me to press on, go harder at him. He laughed and then picked up the bottle that was next to him; he looked at it for a mere second. He held onto it, his grip tightening before he threw it hard against the wall behind me. I closed my eyes, my heart skipping a beat. I swallowed my nervousness, knowing Daimon needed me.

“I fucked Vanessa, you know.” He grinned, the blue in his eyes lost in his drunken haze.

“No, you didn’t,” I said calmly, knowing he was trying to get a rise out of me.

“Yes I did. I fucked her hard. She’s not like you, Addie. She has a perfect body,” he said heartlessly as he kept grinning.

“I know you didn’t fuck her,” I said again.

“Oh, look who’s calling my bullshit? How the hell do you know I didn’t fuck her? I’m fucking Daimon Evans! I fuck what I want, when I want,” he said furiously.

“Your mother died and this is what you a want to fight about? You want to fight about how big your cock is and how many women you fucked. Good for you, Daimon,” I bit out.

“I hate how you know me. I hate that I can’t ever hide from you,” he said angrily; his eyes narrowing as he looked at me menacingly.

He grabbed onto my arm and pulled me close; his breath reeked of alcohol. He glared at me and then threw me onto the ground, pinning me underneath him.

“So now what, Addie? If I can’t fuck anyone but you, how do you think this is going to end?” he threatened.

My heart ached watching him do this. I knew Daimon would never hurt me. He was doing this to hurt himself.

“Go ahead, Daimon,” I said calmly, giving him permission, looking up at his sorrowful face. “Do what you want. Ruin everything if you have to,” I said to him. Whether I liked it or not, Daimon and I had built a relationship and he was in the midst of taking it all away.

“Ruin what, Addie?” he said in pain, his eyes filled with tears.

“Us,” I breathed.

Daimon closed his eyes, his tears falling onto my cheeks, my wrists protesting as he still held onto them. He finally let go and fell on top of me. I felt the heaviness of his body as he melted into my embrace. I wrapped my arms around him and held him as he cried silently for his mother.





The Funeral


Deidra’s funeral was small, very small. Not many knew her and those who did were associated with Daimon’s father. I sat by Daimon in the small funeral home, filled with various white flowers, her favorites; lilies, tulips and roses. He stared at her dark brown casket. His eyes were red; the death of his mother hitting him hard. I understood his pain. I knew he would feel a void, but I would be there for him, in every sense of the word.

My father sat quietly behind us, only offering me a faint smile. Sofia had called Daimon, who was barely responsive to her, but thanked her for her kind words. Rafe had shown up and I finally felt like I could leave his side for a moment. I stepped outside to take some fresh air. The day was sunny and by all accounts would have been glorious.

“Addie?” I heard faintly. Darren had shown up, wearing his black suit. He quietly smiled as he walked over to me. “How are you?” he asked as he leaned in and kissed both my cheeks.

“I’m good. You?” I said sadly.

“I’ve been better. How’s Daimon?” he asked.

“Not the best,” I admitted.

“I miss you,” he said softly.

“Darren,” I warned.

“As a friend, Addie. I miss you as a friend,” he corrected.

“So I turn my back for just one second and this is what I see?” Daimon said angrily as he stepped down the stairs of the funeral home.

“Daimon, Darren came to see you, not me,” I stated.

Daimon only nodded as he came beside me, taking my hand, and entwining our fingers. He squeezed tightly. I sensed his unbridled fury that was just beneath the surface.