DAMIAN’S POV
The door clicked shut behind us as we stepped into a tastefully furnished room.
Spacious, stylish, and yeah ….very her.
I gave it one lazy sweep, my eyes dragging over the queen-sized bed with its hospital-neat sheets, the nude, minimalist aesthetic — clean lines, soft neutrals, painfully serious.
So very Cindy.
Probably thought this boring-ass color scheme screamed “class.”
To me? It screamed “emotional constipation.”
There were two doors at the far end— bathroom, closet, probably. Above the bed hung some abstract frame art that looked like it had been scribbled by a depressed toddler.
Nice try, though.
Cindy hadn’t said a word since we got in.(She’s probably still dripping wet from that kiss.)
I smirked to myself.
After all these years, I finally get to see her ag
