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This is worse than if he was rushing off to deal with Kristen and her non-sense. At least I know who she is. At least if it’s her, I know who and what I’m up against. But how do I compete with this phantom of a woman who, from what I can tell, no one has even heard of? Get a grip, Sloane. There’s no point in competing for a man you can’t keep. And only an idiot would try.
I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my nose in his chest, inhaling his scent like it’s the last time I’ll ever get the chance to experience it. “Why?”
Dom’s arms envelop me, holding me close to him as he presses a kiss to my messy curls. “There’s some time-sensitive things that need my attention. I was going to try to handle them tomorrow, but they can’t wait.”
I tense as the lie hangs in the air between us. The knife in my chest twists deeper, and I pull away from him before the tenderness of his hold sets the sob building in my chest free.
“Right. Got it. Of course, you should go take care of your business.”
His brow furrows, confusion etched into his features over the quiver in my voice. “Are you okay?”
I wave a dismissive hand at him as I walk towards the bedroom door. “I’m fine. I’m sure I have some work I need to catch up on too.”
I don’t mention that we could work on whatever things we need to get done together. That we have spent more than one evening on my couch working and watching television while I sketched and he reviewed reports from his subcontractors and checked in with vendors.
Dom trails me down the steps, and I start counting the seconds until he’s out the door and I can finally release the avalanche of emotion swirling inside of me. He breaks off, heading into my office to get his things, and I swipe angrily at a tear that slipped out without my permission. When he comes back, I busy myself with fixing a glass of water I don’t want or need while he throws his stuff into his bag and grabs his keys.
“Walk me to the door, angel.”
I sit the glass of water on the counter and follow him into the mudroom. I watch him lace his boots and wonder if it’s appropriate to use a safe word outside of the bedroom. If it’s still a valid way to indicate to your partner that something they’re doing hurts beyond belief and you need them to stop everything to comfort you. He stands and his keys jingle in his hand. The sound transports me back to the day Eric walked out on me and an overwhelming wave of shame and grief washes over me.
On Monday, Dom lulled me to sleep with promises, whispering that everything was okay and he wasn’t going anywhere. He said life owed me some good for all the pain I’ve lived through, and for a moment, for a life-changing, heartbreaking moment I thought that maybe he was right. That maybe our relationship was life finally deciding to pay up.
But as I watch him throw his bag over his shoulder, I know he was wrong.
This is what I deserve. Not happiness. Not a second chance at love in the form of my husband’s best friend. But a reminder of my selfish habit of hurting people I claim to love without even realizing it.
When I decided to get an IUD, I didn’t know how bad it would hurt Eric. I just knew I was afraid of getting pregnant. When I decided to ask Dom about the tattoo, I didn’t know it would remind him of the woman who broke his heart. I just wanted to prove to myself I could be a safe space for him the same way he is for me.
And maybe in some deeper, darker part of my mind, I was hoping I would find out that he isn’t perfect. That he’s just as broken as I am, so I could feel a little more confident in telling him how I feel. Because if he’s broken too, then maybe he won’t scoff at my love and throw it back in my face.
How fucked up is that?
All my life I’ve grown up thinking my mother was the most selfish, destructive creature I’ve ever known, but it turns out I’m just like her. So caught up in my wants and needs, I’ll completely disregard the feelings of the people around me to have them met. Happy to exploit someone else’s pain just to satisfy my insecurities.
My feet are heavy, dragging like they have cement blocks attached to them, as I make my way to the door. Dom grabs me the moment I’m within reach, bending down and grazing his lips over mine before giving me a soft kiss. Absently, I wonder how he’s doing it, how he’s managing to act like he’s still into this when I know his mind is with the woman who branded herself on his heart long before I thought to want him.
“Goodnight, beautiful.” He says softly, releasing me from his grasp.
“Goodnight.”
I offer him a weak smile, hoping my face isn’t revealing anything about the pain curling around my breastbone. I must be doing a good job of hiding it because Dom just gives me a soft smile before walking out of the back door. I don’t even wait for him to get in the car before I slam it closed and lock it.
Slowly, and with tears blurring my vision, I walk back into the kitchen and start to turn off the lights in the house. I grab my phone off of the counter and head back upstairs to climb into bed alone. I shrug off my robe, plug my phone into the charger and fall into bed with nothing on.
My bed smells like him, which only makes the tears fall faster when I bury my face in the pillows just to stifle the sobs wracking my body.
.
37
Dominic
Now
Every dog has its day.
That was one of my mother’s favorite sayings, and out of all of the words she’s ever spoken to me—all of the loving murmurs, corny jokes, and polite euphemisms—this is the one stuck in my mind as stare at Gabriel Alexander. My father. My tormentor. My big bad wolf who’s lost all of his teeth and traded his claws for cable-knit sweaters that make him look like a harmless sheep.
