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“No. When I stop seeing a woman, I tell her she knew it wouldn’t be long-term from the start.”
“So, you use women until you get bored and then toss them to the side and find another piece of meat to chew on for a while?”
“No.” My brows furrowed.
“You can be truthful. I won’t judge you.” A smirk danced on her lips, challenging me to be honest.
“I don’t do relationships. I usually see a woman for about a month and then move on. It’s a boredom thing.”
“Really?” Her head cocked. “You get bored that fast?”
“Yeah. I do.” I finished my hot dog.
“Then I guess it’s good that we’re getting this marriage annulled soon. I would hate for you to get bored with me. But I think I know your real problem, and I don’t think boredom is it.”
“Enlighten me.” I smiled.
“It’s not that you’re bored. It’s that you’re afraid of being known, really known. Because once someone sees you—all of you—they might decide you’re not enough. And that would confirm everything you secretly suspect about yourself.”
I opened my mouth to object, but she continued talking.
“You cultivate these brief relationships or whatever you want to call them because they’re safe. No one gets close enough to see past the charming façade you’ve perfected. Your mother died when you were very young, your father never remarried, and you hadn’t been exposed to what a real loving relationship looks like outside of your family.”
“That’s quite a psychological profile you’ve created. Did you lie and really major in psychology at NYU, or is psychoanalysis just a hobby of yours? And you’re right. My father never did remarry because he was too busy building his empire to bother with something as trivial as emotional connections.”
“You honestly think emotional connections are trivial?” she asked.
“I do. They’re nothing but a distraction—chemical reactions that are temporary and inconsequential.” I stared at two ducks, one male, one female, gliding across the water.
“They look like they’re in love.” Willa pointed to the ducks.
“They bond for practical reasons, Willa. For survival and reproduction.”
“But look how they swim together. That right there is devotion to each other.”
My brows furrowed as I stared at the ducks.
“Devotion?” I chuckled. “Did you know that when a mate dies, the surviving duck finds a replacement within days. There’s no mourning, no visits to the spot where they once nested together, nothing. They just move along and find a new mate as if the other never existed.”
“My gosh, Damien Blackwood. I had no idea you were a duck emotional expert. So, basically, you’re calling yourself a duck?”
I was done with this conversation.
“We’re done talking about relationships and ducks. How the hell did we even get on the subject of ducks? Oh, that’s right. You pointed them out because you think human and duck relationships are the same.”
“That is not true!” She smacked my arm, and I chuckled.
“Imagine a world where nobody broke up, ever, or went in different directions. You’d be out of the breakup box business.” I smirked. “Then what would you do? I suppose you could go back to school and get a degree in psychology since you like to psychoanalyze people.”
“You know what, Damien?” She stood from the bench with a bit of mustard on her chin. “You’re a jerk. I can see why you’re single.” She began to walk away.
I stood, followed her, and gripped her arm, turning her around and wiping the mustard off her chin with my thumb.
“That mustard was driving me nuts. And don’t forget, I’m not single anymore.”
“You’re only not single on paper at the moment. But every other part of you is.”
“Where is all of this coming from?” I frowned. “You know what? Fine. When I was sixteen, my father confessed to me that my mother had an affair during their marriage. He’d found the letters from her lover tucked away in a box in the closet. He hired an attorney and was filing for divorce when she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He never filed, and he never told her that he knew. He carried that secret with him all those years until he finally told me. It was enough to shatter everything I thought I knew. Was her love for him even real? I always thought my father became a different version of himself. Angry one minute and completely shut down the next. It was because of what my mother did. She betrayed and hurt him and left him feeling like their love meant nothing. So, yes, emotional connections are trivial to me. My father spent his entire life in a relationship that was fundamentally false. Every memory was tainted, and every sacrifice he made was for nothing. It was never enough. She had to seek happiness in the arms of another man.”