The second Lucia and Romeo leave the room to tend to their son, I lean towards Dominic and whisper, “I can’t afford new furniture.”
My confession makes my face heat. I’m ashamed of the situation I now find myself in, for more reasons than one.
I can’t afford much of anything until I get paid next week. We were behind on rent, something Mick was supposed to handle, and it ended up being on me to try to catch up. The alternative was eviction, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.
When I first moved back here with him, he didn’t want me to pay my way, but I insisted. I thought contributing meant we were building something together, that we were equals.
We eventually agreed that I’d buy the groceries and help with the utilities, but somewhere along the way, I ended up covering just about everything. Whenever I questioned it, he’d twist it around and make me feel like there was something wrong with me, like it was my fault.
He could’ve gone out and got a real job instead ofrelying on his criminal activities. He also could’ve cleaned up his act and stopped using. I regularly took on extra shifts to make ends meet.
Dominic’s jaw ticks, like he can read the storm brewing behind my eyes. “I never asked you to pay for the furniture, Emily,” he growls.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper. “Why are you helping someone you barely know?”
He doesn’t reply straight away. His eyes drop to the table for a beat, but when his sharp gaze returns to me, his reply comes out quiet, “Because I couldn’t save my mother.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “I couldn’t help her, but I can sure as fuck help you.”
My breath catches as I try to make sense of what he’s saying.He couldn’t save his mother.What does that even mean?
He leans back slightly in his seat, assessing me, like he’s waiting for me to push back, but when I don’t, he continues, “You’re not going to argue with me about this, Em. Not when I finally have a chance to do something right. To fix something that’s been weighing on me for years.”
“I’m not your problem, Dom.”
“You are now,” he says, the finality in his voice leaves no room to argue.
“Emmy, you coming to my place?” Peach asks as we pull into the driveway of a neat brick home.
This kid, I swear, is the cutest. She’s been calling me that ever since she asked me my name. I’m still not sure if she’s given me a nickname or if that’s how she pronounces Emily. I’ve met her twice before now, at the store when she was a baby and the one time Dominic brought her to La Riviera, but it’s only natural she wouldn’t remember me.
I turn slightly, glancing over my shoulder to where she sits in the back seat. “I am, is that okay?” I answer, although I’m still in two minds about being here.
She nods eagerly as her big brown eyes widen even further. “You wanna see my room?”
“I’d love to.”
I turn back around, push my sunglasses on top of my head, and blink a few times as I stare out the front windscreen at the house—which will apparently be my home for the foreseeable future—taking it all in.
How did I even get here?
It’s not as grand as Lucia and Romeo’s place, but I’m surprised by how normal it looks. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this.
It’s well-maintained, with a neatly mowed lawn and a stone path leading to a navy blue front door that looks freshly painted.
This is the nice part of town, not far from where I grew up. It’s the kind of neighbourhood where people wave to each other, and kids ride their bikes safely on the road after school. Definitely a far cry from the area I lived in with Mick.
Our neighbours were a little on the rough side, like him. Some people in our street took care of their homes, but many didn’t. Overgrown lawns, broken windows, holes punched in the siding, discarded furniture, and rubbish piling up along the kerb were common occurrences. Some of them would yell at Mick or call the cops when he revved his bike too loudly or tore down the street like a maniac.
He never cared about their complaints; it only seemed to fuel his behaviour.
My eyes flicker from the house to Dominic as a strange mix of comfort and unease settles in the pit of my stomach. He and this place feel familiar and foreign all at once. LikeI’m stepping into a life I used to imagine for myself before everything got messy.
On our way home, we stopped at the store to get some supplies. Dominic went straight for the frozen dinners, but when I told him I knew how to cook, he actually seemed surprised. So instead of stocking up on premade meals, he started loading the shopping trolley up with a variety of meats and vegetables.
Before he placed anything in, he asked, “Can you cook this?” as he held up different cuts of meat. When we got to the fresh produce section, his first question was, “Do you know how to make mashed potatoes?”I nodded, and a slight smile curved his lips.
He almost seemed excited about eating freshly cooked food. It was enough to crack a tiny piece of my armour that I’d recently erected around my heart.
I occasionally cooked with my mother growing up, and when things are slow at the restaurant, Massimo teaches me things. I’m nowhere near his expertise in the kitchen, but I do okay.
