For a minute after he put down the phone, I stood there, still, unsure what to do. Who did he miss? Who did he love?
He loved?
I had been through enough relationships or almost relationships to know all my options here, and my brain could come up with a few more. We weren’t together. I needed to remind myself of that, and yet … moments ago, it had certainly felt that way.
Opening the door, I took a step out, clutching my arms around myself in a towel, but I couldn’t do this in just a towel.
“Hey, I was just about to come in with you,” said Dom.
Reaching across him toward the wash basket, I grabbed the first thing I saw. Unfortunately, it was one of his hoodies he normally wore to run in the morning when it was still cold. When I yanked it on, the sweatshirt fell nearly to my knees. I might have looked ridiculous, but it would do.
“Who was that?”
“Who was what?” Dom asked, the crease between his eyebrows forming, as if what I had asked was completely out of the blue.
“On the phone,” I said. I made sure I was clear this time—I didn’t want to repeat this—trying to sound as if I didn’t care as my heart pulsed and shattered inside of me like glass floating into my lungs.
I took a deep breath. I knew how to do that now.
In and out.
“I’m asking who the person on the phone was that you said you loved and would be home to soon,” I resumed. “I assume it wasn’t a late-night call with a coworker you’d normally take.”
Because he did have a phone call, nearly every night. Sometimes more often, come to think of it.
I put a hand to my head, all of it running together with stomach-curling understanding. I felt like I was about to be sick.
Dom opened his mouth before he rethought whatever excuse he was going to feed me. He sputtered.
I stopped him before he could come up with something better.
“Dom, are you married?”
27
“You were acting like I was completely crazy and you’re married?” I asked the question again.
Still no response.
Married. Somehow, I was still in disbelief as I said the word.
He was married. He had always been married.
It was all starting to make sense.
“I mean, to think that I thought better of you. You’re not only an ass, but you’re also a cheating asshole, who involved me in whatever sort of affair this was last year. And then I wondered what would happen if … what? You left your wife for me?”
I pressed a hand to my head.
“Ana,” Dom finally said, “it’s not like that.”
“You’re fucking married!” I flung an arm out to the side.
“I’m not married.”
“Then, what is going on? Because none of this is making sense.”
“I planned to tell you. I planned to tell you before, but I—”
