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“And he knows about…” Her eyes flick to my wedding band as she clears her throat, stumbling over the words. “He knows you were married before?”
He was at the wedding.
“He does, and he’s so understanding about everything. Me wearing my ring and sleeping in Eric’s old shirt from high school. He doesn’t make me feel weird when random things remind me of Eric and make me sad. He just gets it. He gets me. When I’m with him I don’t feel like I have to erase the part of me that will always love Eric. And I didn’t think I’d ever find that with someone.”
It’s not the full truth, but it’s the closest I can get to it without crossing over the line I’ve been so carefully toeing since the first time me and Dom kissed. Mama reaches for me, grabbing my hand again and squeezing tight, so I can’t pull away.
“That’s incredible, Sloane. All I’ve wanted for you since Eric has been gone is for you to find someone worthy of all the love you have to give. Eric would want that for you too, baby girl. He’d want to see you smiling again, the way you have been for the past few weeks.” A lone tear leaks from the corner of her eye, and she swipes it away. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to live the rest of your life for everyone else. For me. For Mal. For Eric and his memory.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she shuts me down with a firm shake of her head.
“You can’t lie to me, baby, because I know the truth. That’s exactly what you’ve been doing, and I’m telling you right now to stop it. If you love this man, if he’s as special as you say he is, then you make sure you hold on to him. Grab this second chance at love by the balls and don’t let go until it stops feeling like a gift straight from God himself.”
Her face is so serious, her fingers gentle but insistent as they squeeze my hand, that I have no choice but to push back the laugh bubbling in my chest as a result of her using the word ‘balls’ and the Lord’s name in the same sentence. I squeeze her hand back.
“Okay, Mama.”
“Alright, now. You better mean it because if you lose this good man over some misguided notion that you have to be sad for the rest of your life just because we lost Eric, I’ll have to break out my belt.”
I roll my eyes and laugh at the ridiculousness of her threat to spank me. It feels good to let the seriousness and emotion of the moment melt into something else. Something easier and closer to the light and airy banter we usually have with each other. I’m glad to be back to normal and happily let Mama guide the conversation into safer territory—mostly family gossip—while we finish our meal.
While we talk, I can’t help but think about how much lighter I feel after getting it all off of my chest. Managing to do so without a huge blowup happening or one of us dissolving into tears feels amazing. Like kicking off a pair of heels after a long day of work. I feel happier, freer, and more hopeful than I’ve ever been about my future with Dom.
I’m ready to admit that I love him, and I don’t want to let him go. And if he feels the same way, then maybe we have a shot. I could go home tonight and tell him how I feel, and we could develop a plan for coming clean to Mama and Mal. I’ve already laid the foundation here tonight, easing our way for telling the truth to the people we love most, but I know it’s still going to be tough.
Mama will wonder why I lied about seeing a client and Mal…Mal will flip her shit, but I’ll have Dom by my side and he’ll help me sort it all out. I trust him to do that, to be my safe place, my shelter in the storm.
* * *
As I hug Mama goodbye at the valet station, my heart is beating a mile a minute. I’m anxious to get back home and talk to Dom. To see his face when I tell him for the first time that our relationship doesn’t have to end when the renovation does. That I want something more than a temporary fix to my skin hunger, I want to build a life with him.
I tap my foot impatiently, scrolling through my messages while I wait for the valet to pull my car around. I’ve got a few texts from Mal, James, and Sasha, but the only one I care about is from Dom.
Dominic: Please tell me you’re on your way home to me. I miss you.
Sloane: Hmmm. That depends.
Dominic: On?
Sloane: Whether or not any of the cookies I hid from you last night are left.
He likes to tease me about my sweet tooth, but I’ve quickly learned he’s not opposed to enjoying a baked good now and then. Last night I had a major chocolate craving—thanks PMS— and baked some cookies from scratch. He had his greedy fingers in the pan before they even cooled off, scarfing them down like a starved man.
I had to jump on his back just to stop him from eating them all, which resulted in some very dirty counter sex. And then, while he was in the shower cleaning flour and sugar off of his skin, I stashed some away in an old cereal box.
It was a good hiding place, but no part of me believes he’s been in the house alone for hours and hasn’t found them.
Dominic: Don’t know anything about any hidden cookies, but I’ve got something better for you.
Sloane: Your dick is not a sufficient substitute for homemade chocolate chip cookies, Dominic Alexander.
Dominic: True, but maybe this is.
I double-click on the image he’s attached to the thread and find a bag from Twisted Sistas sitting on my counter. I’d bet my last dollar he has a slice of double chocolate cheesecake in that bag. He must have stopped by after work just to get it.
My heart swells in my chest, that increasingly familiar bubble of tenderness expanding until emotion clogs my throat. This is why I love him. Not because he buys me chocolate cheesecake just days before my period is about to start—though the timing really does make it more meaningful—but because he’s always thinking of me. Always trying to find new ways to make me smile and laugh.
It’s almost like he’s addicted to seeing my eyes shine with joy and happiness that’s aimed squarely at him.
