“So you like all of me?”
“Shocking, right?”
“Not at all. I’m an excessively charismatic person.”
“Well, aren’t you full of yourself?”
His smile is slow and smug as he raises his glass. “All right,” he says after taking a sip, “your turn.”
“My turn?”
“To share,” he clarifies.
“Oh, so that’s how we’re doing it?”
“From what I’ve gathered, this is how people get to know each other. I share something, then you share something. So, spill.”
“Well, for starters, I grew up on the other end of what you just described,” I say with an amused smile.
“Ah, so hippies,” he throws my joke right back.
I glance at him, not able to hold back a smile. “And here’s the kicker… we had a mortgage. And we were heavily in debt.”
His brows lift.
“My parents didn’t have a lot. Honestly, they barely had enough. But they made sure I didn’t feel it. I never knew how tight things were until I got older.”
I smile at the memory. “Once a month, my mom would take me to the thrift store and let me pick one piece of clothing. Whatever I wanted. That was my favorite day of the month.”
Dom shifts, turning more toward me, tilting his head. “And when those clothes started getting old, she taught me how to fix them—how to stitch them back together. I got addicted to it. Loved the way it felt to turn something broken into something new.”
His gaze is soft, and I fight the urge to run my hand through his hair.
“That’s where it started. The sewing and later the designing. I knew what I wanted early, so I started working for it. I had two jobs on top of the social media stuff. I saved every cent so I could move to Miami and try. When the brand deals started coming in, the ads and sponsors, I finally could.”
I pause. “I still send money home. Every month. Whatever I’ve got left.”
Dom’s smile fades from his face, and so does mine. I look down. “That’s why…” I breathe in. “That’s why I wanted to move in with you in the first place.”
He blinks, furrowing his brows. “I knew how wrong it looked, but I didn’t want your pity,” I say quickly. “And honestly, I was proud of what I’d done. Even if I came here with duct-taped dreams and half a plan.” I laugh, embarrassed. “I almost moved back home before I met you. It was getting that bad.”
The silence stretches.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dom asks, shaking his head. “I would’ve helped. I could’ve sent your parents whatever they needed.”
“You really think I was gonna ask for help? From you? When you acted like breathing the same air as me was a tragedy?”
“Jessica.”
“I didn’t want your help. I wanted it to be mine. I needed to know I earned it.”
“How much do they need?” Dom asks, brows drawn.
“This isn’t your responsibility,” I say. “My problems. My parents’ situation. It’s not yours to carry.Especially not on top of everything you’ve already got going on. You were forced into dating me.”
He leans forward slightly, one forearm resting on his thigh. “The PR relationship did its job. I got the green-light today, Jessica. No one’s forcing me to keep doing it. If this were still fake, we’d be having an entirely different conversation today. We’d be telling each other goodbye.”
Warmth sparks in my chest at his words.
