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It sounded fair enough to me. There was no use in worrying about things I had no control over. It was a lesson he had taught me.

“Deal.”

“I love you, Damon.”

“I love you, rainbow.”

And then the line is dead.

The penthouse buzzer goes off again before I can head to the kitchen.

When I open the door, the team of smiling female faces, all dressed in pink uniforms and with the logo ‘Genevives Spa’ is not what I expect. They have equipment bags either in their hands or on the floor.

My confused expression prompts the woman in front to speak.

“Mr. Deangelo sent us. We're here for your pamper session, which includes a massage, facial, wax, anything and everything. Once we're done, our stylists will take over to prepare for your evening out.” She hands me two tickets to a musical at The Barcelona, followed by a meal in their four-star Michelin restaurant.

Damon is replacing the memory of my ruined evening there, the one Julia tainted, with a new, better one.

“Wait. What?” Dee asks, taking the tickets from me.

“Tickets to this are like ten grand each. And a meal at The Barcelona. Oh my god, Si.”

We stand aside as the team pours into the penthouse, moving into the large sitting area to set up.

A half-hour later, Dee and I are face down on massage beds while an absolute angel kneads all the knots and tension out of my body.

“I think I’m in heaven,” Dee mumbles, her thoughts echoing mine.

By the time they are finished, my hamstrings feel so much better, and my body feels like mush, with the bones having disintegrated under the expert hands of my masseuse.

Dee is beaming as we turn over and start the next session of pampering, a facial followed by a mani and a pedi and then some landscaping.

By the time they are finished, we are perfection, from top to bottom. There is not a single hair out of place.

“This must be what celebrities feel like all the time,” Dee says,holding her hands up as she examines her nails, now painted in a stunning pastel pink.

When the buzzer sounds again, and a team of stylists enters, rolling in clothes racks filled with gorgeous dresses, shoes, and accessories, I feel like royalty.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this, Si,” Dee whispers, the smile on her relaxed face nearly splitting it in two.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love your brother and the kids, but this evening will stick with me forever.” It would stick with me, too, not just because of my photographic memory. I was having actual fun with another human being other than Damon for the first time in years, since James. And now that I was having it, it made me think I should do things like this more often.

I had been pushing people away for so long that it took a stalker turned fiancé to make me see that. It was called healing. It had been happening gradually, and even with The Reaping in between, I was slowly finding myself again. And it felt great.

“Okay, well, I’ve decided on this one,” Dee says to the lady who is giving her suggestions on what best suits her body shape, skin tone, and hair color.

It is a beautiful maroon dress. I can tell it will look gorgeous on her.

I settle on a green dress, one that compliments my eyes and hair, according to the stylist allocated to me. Once we have found the right pair of shoes and accessories to match, the entourage leaves, eyeing us skeptically when we tell them we will be fine getting dressed on our own. I think they are worried that we will ruin our hair and makeup.

Dee squeals in delight, jumping around like a child at Christmas time before she undresses and slips on the dress with a price tag that induces nausea. Both our dresses do. This whole night does. But I push those feelings aside, determined to live in the moment like Damon saidI should.

Half an hour later, we are in a limo, our driver none other than Bob who, was also in a tuxedo. Meaning he would be accompanying us tonight. Something that relieved me. While we were not exactly on full-on speaking terms, his permanent placement on Damon's team meant he was now at least greeting me. I occasionally got what he might consider a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. Baby steps.

When we arrive at The Barcelona, the porte-cochère is again packed, and Bob has to park the limo a little further than he had hoped, his under breath muttering attesting to his discomfort with that. His eyes scan the area before he opens the door.

It doesn’t even make me nervous anymore. He was always like this. Careful. Meticulous. Jordan and Kai have already scoped out the place and are probably watching us now. Damon would make sure of that.