His expression shifts, turning serious. He sets his sandwich aside, sensing there’s more behind the words. He’s right, but he doesn’t push. Just waits, letting me decide.
Memories from a distant past tie themselves into a knot in my throat, forcing a sigh out.
“I was about eight or nine when I became obsessed with eating one of these,” I start, my voice quiet. “I read about it in a storybook. Eating it was supposed to teleport you to another world. One day, against every survival instinct, I asked my mother for one. Justone.”
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. Life with her was such torture that even Hell sounded better to eight-year-old me.
“I don’t know why, but it set her off worse than anything before,” I whisper.
The weight of the memory pulls me down, my shoulders slumping as I stare at the ceiling.
“Needless to say, she punished me for that small request. It was so bad I never asked her for anything ever again.” I pause, drawing in a slow breath. “I learned to just take instead. A small piece of revenge. A secret first boyfriend. Little acts of rebellion she never knew about, but made me feel a little better.”
Another breath.
“Unfortunately, I got careless when I met you.”
My eyes find his. The anger burning there makes me smile. It’s a weak smile, but it’s better than crying.
“Anyway,” I continue, clearing my throat, “with everything always going sideways in my life, I forgot about the pomegranates. But now that she’s gone…” I shrug lightly. “It made me realize how many normal, stupid things I never got to experience because of her. So I’ve been working on a list of everything I want to do.”
Determination sparks in my chest.
“And dammit, I’m going to start by eating all ten of those fruits. And I’ll make a huge mess doing it.”
The anger in him doesn’t fade, but he manages a small smile at that. He leans forward, curling his hand behind my knee and giving it a brief squeeze.
“I should’ve made her suffer more,” he murmurs, clenching his jaw.
“Dominic, she almost fainted in the middle of the street once just from hearing someone ask, ‘Is that a rat?’,” I mutter, sinking back into my chair and grabbing my unfinished sandwich. “She ran all the way home, dragging me behind like demons were chasing her. She didn’t leave the house for a week.”
I glance at him and grin. “You did good.”
Bones told me the details of her demise while Dominic was still in a coma, leaving nothing out. I ate it all up like a good book.
His face flashes with disagreement, but he gives me a brief nod and leans back, his eyes staying on me.
“What’s the first thing on your Everything List?” he asks, watching me with unguarded curiosity.
Excitement explodes through me. The dam breaks before I can even process it.
“I want to go on a swing,” I blurt, throwing my arms wide. A bit of sauce flies off my sandwich and splatters on the floor. I ignore it.
“But I don’t know if that’s the first one. I haven’t ranked them yet,” I rush on, getting more worked up with every word. “I want to eat birthday cake — the proper kind, with a million rainbow sprinkles. I want to jump in puddles in the rain and absolutely ruin my shoes. I want to make snow angels. I want to eat a Sloppy Joe. And powdered donuts. Every messy food I haven’t tried yet. I want to climb a tree.”
I drag in a breath, my eyes going wide.
“And oh God, Dominic, I want to learn how to ride a fucking bicycle.”
A short, incredulous laugh slips out.
“How fucking weird is it that I got to ride a bike before I got to ride a… bike?”
He grins. “It’s not weird. It’s badass.”
Then he leans forward, bracing on the armrests of my chair, and presses a soft kiss to my lips.
“I’ll help you with your list, adorable,” he murmurs against my mouth. I melt like sugar in hot water.
