Chapter 8

Damian's knuckles turned white around his whiskey glass.

He didn't wait for me to speak.

He flagged down the waiter.

"We need another dozen oysters."

"Truffle fries."

"And the mango mousse."

He was guilty.

This was his way of smoothing things over.

The dessert arrived quickly.

He pushed the plate toward me.

"Eat up. Their mango mousse is amazing."

I stared at the yellow pastry.

I didn't move a muscle.

Damian frowned in confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"You love mangoes."

Chloe let out an obnoxious giggle.

"Damian, you're terrible at this!"

"I'm the one obsessed with mangoes!"

Damian rubbed his temples.

A rare flash of embarrassment crossed his face.

"Sorry, Ava. I mixed it up."

He didn't mix it up. He just never cared.

I planned every detail of our eight years together.

He never had to try.

But he didn't just forget my favorite food.

He forgot one crucial detail.

I am deathly allergic to mangoes.

I picked up the silver spoon.

I scooped up a large piece of the mousse.

I locked eyes with Damian, my fork trembling, and took the bite.

They watched me in stunned silence.

I finished the entire plate.

By midnight, I was rushed to the ER.

Anaphylactic shock.

I woke up to the harsh fluorescent lights.

Damian was gripping the edge of my hospital bed.

Panic washed over his face.

"Dammit, Ava!"

"I forgot you were allergic!"