Chapter 17 – Date Night Detour
Chapter 17 – Date Night Detour
[Damon]
He hadn’t been on a date in years.
Not a real one.
Not the kind where you sat across from someone who wasn’t just another business arrangement or a distraction from the ghosts of your past.
Celeste had picked the place—a tucked-away rooftop bistro in central Florence. Candlelit tables, soft jazz floating between the clinking of wine glasses, and a skyline that looked like it had been hand-painted.
“You’re tense,” she said as the waiter poured them a deep red Chianti.
“I’m trying not to be,” Damon admitted, swirling the glass.
“Let me guess,” Celeste teased, taking a sip. “You’re more comfortable staring down stock market crashes than… feelings?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Is that a dig?”
“It’s an observation. You’re not great at being known.”
He paused, resting his forearms on the table. “What makes you think I want to be known?”
She smiled gently. “Because people who don’t want to be known don’t agree to rooftop dinners and emotional exposure.”
He let out a laugh—low, rough, unexpected. And Celeste noticed.
So did he.
“Fine,” he said. “You win.”
She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “I’m not trying to win anything, Damon. I’m just… here. And I like what I see. Even if you’re still tangled in something else.”
Damon’s jaw tightened.
Aurora.
Her name didn’t have to be spoken. It haunted every silence.
“Can I ask something?” Celeste said, her voice softer.
He nodded.
“Do you still love her?”
He didn’t blink. “I don’t know how to stop.”
Celeste nodded slowly. “That’s honest. Painful, but honest.”
He looked at her then, really looked, searching for judgment in her eyes.
But she just sat there, calm, radiant, and present.
“No pressure,” she said after a beat. “If you ever want to let go of the ghost, I’m here.”
And something inside Damon softened. Not because she was Aurora.
But because she wasn’t trying to be.
They clinked glasses again, and for a moment, Damon let the warmth of the wine and the clarity of the night wash over him.
Still, when he walked Celeste to her car and kissed her cheek goodnight, his soul felt no less conflicted.
---
[Aurora]
It was Luca’s idea to get out of the city for the evening.
“Too much pressure in the city,” he’d said, a roguish smile on his lips. “It’s time we chase stars, not ghosts.”
She raised a brow. “Is that your therapy prescription?”
“I’m multi-talented,” he shrugged. “I also make excellent pasta.”
They drove into the hills above Florence, winding roads flanked by olive groves and pine trees. At a scenic overlook, Luca spread out a thick wool blanket and lit a small lantern.
The stars blinked awake overhead.
Aurora sat cross-legged, cradling a mug of cocoa Luca had brewed in a thermos. The rich scent of spices and chocolate warmed her chest.
“This is... unexpectedly romantic,” she admitted.
“I thought about renting a violinist,” he teased, “but figured that was too much for date one.”
Her eyes flickered up. “Is that what this is? A date?”
Luca leaned back on his elbows, looking at the stars. “It could be. Or just two people healing.”
She didn’t reply. The silence between them was comfortable, but there was a taut thread beneath it.
“You don’t have to heal alone, you know,” Luca said after a while.
“I’m not alone.”
“Then why do you still look so lost?”
Aurora turned to him.
His eyes weren’t Damon’s—no wildfire or torment—but they were kind. Steady.
He leaned in slowly, giving her space to retreat.
She didn’t.
Their lips met—tentative, a question more than a statement.
Aurora kissed him back.
But halfway through, Damon’s name surged in her mind.
She pulled away, heart pounding, guilt like an avalanche.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m... not ready.”
Luca exhaled, brushing hair from her cheek.
“It’s okay,” he said gently. “I didn’t come to take anything. I came to remind you that you’re still seen. Still wanted.”
Her chest ached.
“I wish I met you first,” she murmured.
His smile was sad. “So do I.”
---
[Damon – Later That Night]
The dreams were getting worse.
Steamier.
And crueler.
He could smell her in his sleep—honeysuckle and danger. Taste her voice on his tongue. She’d come to him wrapped in moonlight, whispering things she never dared speak in daylight. That he was hers. That no matter what happened, no matter who else kissed her, this was real.
He reached for her—
And woke up.
Alone.
Hard. Frustrated. Empty.
He sat at the edge of his bed, sweat cooling on his back, fists clenched.
He couldn’t keep doing this.
Couldn’t pretend Celeste’s warmth could replace the fire Aurora had set inside him.
He needed clarity.
And that meant seeing her.
In daylight.
No pretending.
---
[Aurora – The Next Day]
She was half-asleep on her couch when his message came.
Damon: Meet me at the pier. Noon. No press. No lies.
Her heart caught.
She stared at the screen before replying:
Aurora: Fine. But no ghosts either.
---
[Later – The Pier]
The wind tugged her scarf as she stepped onto the dock. Damon stood at the edge, hands in his coat pockets, facing the sea. His shoulders were taut. His hair tousled by the breeze.
When he turned, their eyes locked.
Neither smiled.
“You look tired,” she said, stopping a few feet from him.
“So do you.”
“This feels dangerous,” she admitted.
“It is,” he agreed. “We’re both in other people’s arms now.”
“But not in other people’s hearts.”
He looked away.
Then back at her.
“I’m tired of pretending I hate you,” he said quietly.
She swallowed. “Me too.”
“I had dinner with Celeste last night,” he said flatly.
Her stomach twisted. “I kissed Luca.”
His jaw clenched.
“And it didn’t fix anything,” she added softly.
Damon stepped closer. “I want to stop wanting you.”
“But we can’t,” she whispered.
Their hands found each other before they could talk themselves out of it.
The wind whipped around them, but they stood like statues.
“Do you still dream about me?” he asked.
She met his gaze. “Every night.”
His thumb brushed her palm.
And the fire reignited.
But they didn’t kiss.
Not yet.
They stood in the silence of almost.
Of maybe.
Of still.