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“And what did he do? Ask Cami out?”
“Nah, he pined for me the entire year, asking me out over and over again.”
He rolls over, his nose touching mine. “Well, you have the same effect on me, Rosso. Hope I’m not creepy.”
A small smile spreads through my face. “A little, but I’ll allow it.”
I turn my watch over to peek at the time. “Oh, shit. I have to get Otis.”
He tries to hold onto me, but I’m too quick. “You can join me in the shower,” I offer, and he’s off the bed in a split second, pushing me toward the bathroom, as we’re both already naked.
ten
DOMINIC
We stand in front of the door, and as it’s pulled back by her neighbor, a round ball of short fur comes barreling our way. She’s kneeling, but the chunk knocks her on her back and pins her to the ground, and she’s loving it.
“Did you miss your mommy, baby boy?” Her tone changes, as mine does when I pick up one of the triplets. “Mommy missed you, and I promise, we’ll go for a walk.”
When the dog hears the word walk, he stops and begins to whine, like he knows what Sandra has said. “Was he a good boy?” she asks of her neighbor, and I extend my hand to help Sandra up as she cuddles a wiggly Otis.
“Of course, he was, but the drama king took up most of my bed, having me at the very edge. And as normal with Mr. Otis Reginald McDonald, if I’m sitting, he has to be on me.”
Sandra tips her head down further, kissing the dog on the forehead. She’sone of thosepet owners.
“Oh, sorry, where are my manners. Mrs. Winslow, this is Dominic Torano. According to him, we’re currently dating, and you’ll most likely be seeing more of him.”
Mrs. Winslow is no taller than five feet and is in a dress that is fit for dancing and not a Saturday afternoon. Her hair and makeup are flawless, and I’d guess she’s somewhere between sixty and seventy. “Oh, look at you.” Her attention is on me one moment and back on Sandra the next.
“Oh, Sandra, he’s handsome.” Her eyes turn back to me. “She’s quite special, you know. And I may look small, but I’d shank a bitch for this girl, so keep that in mind.”
I hold in my chuckle as I attempt to take this tiny woman seriously. And in an odd way, I’m happy someone else is watching out for my girl.
Sandra burrows in closer to me. “Don’t scare him off. I may keep him around.”
I clear my throat and begin to speak. “Did we keep you from your day, Mrs. Winslow?”
“Oh no, dear. I’m about to watch a marathon ofThe Walking Dead.” Otis jumps from Sandra’s arms and rubs up against Mrs. Winslow. She bends over and pets his head. “I’ll see you on Monday, my sweet boy. Be good for your mommy and her new friend.” She emphasizes friend and gives me a wink, shutting the door behind her.
“Otis, let’s go,” Sandra commands as he whines at Mrs. Winslow’s door, but he obeys. “Mrs. Winslow is a hoot. I’ve never seen her in anything but a dress, unless it’s early morning. But her hair is always perfect and her makeup pristine. She even walks Otis in a dress and her heels. When it snows, she wears snow boots. And she’s an endless flirt who thinks you are the bee’s knees of handsome.”
“What can I say? She has good taste.”
Otis hasn’t given me much attention, but he’s not seen Sandra for a while. She opens her door and the dog stops at the threshold before entering her apartment and doesn’t move. His stare stays on me.
“Otis, move, buddy. Can you please be on your best behavior?” she asks, but he gives the equivalent of an attitude-laced groan.
“Did he just huff at me?” I ask, but he finally moves.
“Yeah, he did. He has an attitude to rival a teenage girl. But sit down, and he’ll come over and let you pet him.”
I do as she suggests. Sandra’s apartment is open, with windows in the front. An odd false wall separates the door from the rest of the space. The kitchen doesn’t get a ton of light, farther away from the natural sunlight from the windows. Otis stands by the door and watches me. “Come here, boy,” I call, but he stays still.
A large bay window sits in front of an open space, with two doors on either side, one leading to her bedroom. Across the living space is a small room the size of a closet that she uses for an office. Around the corner, across from the kitchen, is the only bathroom. It’s a small space, but it’s hers, and she doesn’t have to share it with sloppy roommates. Her couch is pure white and is spotless.
There are a couple navy blue striped chairs in front of the window, and a decent-sized television hanging over her brick fireplace. Pictures of white flowers, anything from lilies to orchids to magnolias hang on her wall, and plants line any open spots from end tables to large areas on the floor. Her kitchen is bright white, with hints of burnt orange, and there’s a small round table to the side with chairs matching the same orange in the kitchen. It’s neat, and orderly, and peaceful, all things I’ve learned are simply Sandra.
Sandra walks over to the round but compact pug and picks him up. “Don’t be a brat, Otis. I’ve told him all about you.” Sandra sits next to me and places the obstinate dog on her lap. “Otis, this is Dom. Say hi to him.” Otis’s eyes lock in on mine and he lets out the same grumble as before.
