Page 100 of Deliah

“Will do.”

Damion hung up and placed the phone down.

I walked over and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “Thank you.”

He looked down at me, resting his hands gently on my hips. “I’m not trying to play peacekeeper. But I know she matters to you. And whether he deserves her or not... he needs to stop messing her around.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But just you calling him? That meant a lot.”

He kissed the top of my head. “She’ll be alright. She’s a tough one.”

I nodded against his chest. “Yeah. But even the toughest ones fall apart sometimes.”

And that was the truth of it. She might’ve been fire and loud opinions. But she had a heart that loved big. And right now, that heart was broken. And for all our faults, Damion and I were the kind of people who showed up—for each other and for her. It’s what real love looks like. Messy. Complicated. Fiercely loyal. And in that moment, I loved him more than ever.

Chapter 32 –

Threesome, Anyone?

Cherry was absolutely knocked out for the rest of the night—or morning. I’d checked on her once or twice just to make sure she was still breathing; she was, just snoring like a dying animal. When she finally stirred, it was gone 9 a.m. A soft knock echoed on the bedroom door. I was already half awake, curled under the duvet, while Damion was in the kitchen making coffee. Cherry walked in, her hair like a bird’s nest and mascara smudged down one cheek. She looked like a hungover raccoon and carried herself with the kind of chaotic grace only she could pull off.

“Fucking hell, babe,” she said, immediately breaking into a laugh. “Yesterday was… eventful.”

“You’re telling me.” I chuckled, patting the bed for her to sit down. She plopped herself down at the end like her bones hurt. “No shame in this house, girl. You do you.”

Just then, Damion walked in holding three coffees, shirtless and smug like he was starring in a perfume ad. He handed one to me, then one to Cherry as he settled beside me on the bed.

“Breakfast of champions,” he muttered, taking a sip.

I glanced between the two of them, then tried to cut through the tension with some humour. “Threesome?”

They both burst out laughing. Cherry nearly choked on her coffee.

“Babe, I love you, but not that much,” she said, fanning herself dramatically. “And anyway, I think I’m still drunk.”

“Well,” I continued, sipping my coffee, “today’s another day. You’ll sort it all out.”

“I don’t want to sort it out,” she snapped, quieter now. “I want to erase it from my memory.”

The laughter faded. We sat there for a while, just sipping our drinks and dissecting the mess of yesterday, the screaming, the crying, the tequila. Cherry started laughing again, nervously this time.

“I vaguely remember jumping in the pool?” she said, glancing at me with wide eyes. “But not much after that.”

“Oh, you did.” I nodded, grinning. “Fully clothed. You cannonballed in like it was the Olympics.”

She groaned and put her head in her hands. “Christ. No wonder my hair feels like seaweed.”

I didn’t mention that Damion had called Tommy last night. I probably should have, but it felt like the wrong moment. Her mood was still balancing on a knife-edge. I didn’t want to tip it. Then, of course, there was a knock at the door. Cherry froze, her coffee halfway to her lips.

“Who the fuck is that?” she asked, brows suddenly knitting.

I glanced towards the hallway. “I think… it’s Tommy.”

She didn’t say anything at first. Just blinked at me like I’d spoken a foreign language. Then her jaw tensed.

“Tell him to fuck off.”

“Cherry—”