Crossing my arms, I rest my hip against the counter. “I did. Mom firedthem.”
He blows out a huff. “Of course she did.”
Now that his arms aren’t full, he’s instantly in a much better mood.
“I’ve got the kitchen covered. Go back to doing your thing. And maybe call the twins, to get their asses over here and be useful. Or at least Marisa. Put that girl to work, she’ll be family if Ethan ever grows the balls to ask.”
“He’s going to ask her. He’s waiting for the timing to be right.”
Shane scoffs as he begins prep work, and puts his earbuds in, effectively dropping the conversation.
Shane’s insistence that Ethan needs to propose to Marisa has been an interesting development. For a man who’s allergic to monogamy and proud of it, he’s the last person I’d expect to give Ethan shit.
I smile to myself as I pad out of the kitchen, thinking Little Shane’s frontal lobe must be close to being fully formed. I still won’t hold my breath for him to settle down anytime soon, though.
Checking the clock, I see there’s still four hours left before guests start arriving. Plenty of time, but there’s still too much for me to get to and still have time to get ready.
With Ariana working and Layla at a nursing school lab, I decide to take Shane’s advice and text Marisa to come help. She replies almost instantly, saying she’ll be over in twenty-minutes.
I continue straightening the living room and fifteen minutes later, Marisa is at the front door but she’s not alone. Dominic is right beside her.
“Look who I ran into,” Marisa says, her smile way too wide, brushing past me with Dominic following.
When I don’t reply right away, because I’m afraid I’ll say something mean, she continues on. “I was at the postoffice when you texted me, and Dom was in front of me in line. I figured two hands are better than one.”
“Butyouhave two hands, Marisa,” I grit with a forced smile.
Her grin fades. “Oh…right. You know what I mean.”
She could’ve at least given me a heads up, girl code and all. Had I known Dominic was tagging along with her, I would’ve made an attempt at looking presentable. Instead, he looks effortlessly good in jeans and a green Clore County Sheriff’s Office hoodie, his forearm tattoos peeking out over the pushed-up sleeves. Meanwhile, I’m wearing a ratty tank-top, leggings with holes, and a musty flannel tied around my waist. Not to mention, the sweat soaking my scalp, makes my hair look greasy, without a lick of makeup on. No one should see me like this, least of all my ex.
Unable to control myself, my gaze moves to his, meeting his dark brown eyes, laser-focused on me.
I try to break the connection, but I’m held captive, unable to do anything but stare right back.
He shrugs, giving me a boyish smile that makes my stomach dip. “I’m at your service, Ellie girl.”
“See,” Marisa exclaims excitedly, nudging my shoulder. “He wants to help.”
Her lack of subtly is enough to jolt my focus and I cast her a strained glance, clearly communicating I’m less than pleased with her meddling.
With widened eyes, she inches away. “I’m just going to go set down my stuff.” She fiddles with the strap of her purse, flashing a wink at me before rounding the hallway, out of sight.
The moment me and Dominic are alone, the foyer shrinks, the air between us inflating.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” There’s an unease in his voice, his usual air of confidenceslipping.
Something about his hesitancy has a tightness forming in my chest. We’ve moved past my hostility, but we still don’t quite know how to act around each other. When I ran into him at The Jackalope, he made it pretty clear that he’s interested in trying again.
I don’t know if I am. Because trying again, means talking. It means explaining myself. And I think I’m too much of a coward to do it.
And what would be the point? He thinks I’m still the Ellie he’s always known. He thinks I’m a good person. But I’m almost certain the moment I let him in, he’d see all the ugliness inside of me. And then he won’t want me anymore. I’m not sure I’d survive that kind of pain.
I’d like to hope we can be friends, but I don’t think it’s possible.
Before we started dating, our friendship was laced with an undeniable current, an awareness that feelings were coming to the surface. We’ve never been just friends, even as kids, before either of us could comprehend it, Dominic always felt like more. Who are we to each other when more isn’t an option?
“Yeah,” I say nodding. “It’s okay. As long as you’re useful, you can stay.”
