19
15.12
As for Damian, he paid us no mind at all. His entire world was focused on the child in his arms. It was getti ng late, and the boy was leaning against his shoulder, his eyelids fluttering with sleepiness.
Damian’s expression was cold, but the gentle way he patted his son’s back was anything but.
Only after Mr. Davies finished his lengthy introduction did Damian finally shift his gaze. For the first time, he looked directly at us. His eyes swept over Logan and me, a fleeting, dismissive glance.
Then he declined to shake our hands.
His palm was supporting his son’s back. “It’s not convenient,” he said simply.
Logan’s outstretched hand hung in the air. As he slowly retracted it, I saw the hard line of his jaw tighten.
Damian gave him a curt nod. “Mr. Sterling.”
Then his eyes fell on me.
“Mrs. Sterling,” he said.
As he spoke, I saw the plain white–gold wedding band on the ring finger of the hand supporting his son. It was an old–fashioned design–simple, inexpensive. Yet it sat securely on his finger.
I felt like I was waking from a dream.
I realized that this entire time, my mind had been adrift, my attention uncontrollably fixed on Damian and his
son.
