The words make my stomach tighten, in that dangerous place between thrill and guilt. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“You sound… somewhere else,” he says gently.
“I’m just… heading out. Going toa friend'shouse.” We both know what that implies, how late it is, the way I emphasize the wordfriend.
Something snaps, barely audible, but there. When he speaks again, the warmth has cooled. “Right.Got it.”
“Rafe—”
“It’s fine,” he cuts in lightly. “You’ve got people waiting. I’ll let you go.”
“Don’t do that,” I say before I can stop myself. “Don’t make it sound like—”
“Like what?” He almost laughs, but it’s hollow. “Like you have areal lifeyou need to get back to?”
I close my eyes, press a hand to my forehead. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Please, go,” he says softly, gentler now, but distant. “Don’t let me keep you.”
The line goes dead before I can find an answer. I stare at the darkened screen, the silence in the room suddenly deafening. The guilt hits harder than I expect, not because I’ve done anything wrong, but because I can’t tell anymore where wrongeven starts.By the time I grab my keys again, I’m not sure whether I’m driving toward Dominik… or away from something else entirely.
Chapter 26
Until Sunday
The house is peaceful when I pull up. Zosia’s bedroom light glows dimly through the curtains; by the time I slip inside, she’s already asleep. Dominik’s in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, loading the dishwasher.
I hop up on the counter, the same spot where I once whispered,harder, I won’t break, and a shiver runs through me. Dominik notices instantly, a crooked grin cutting across his face. He sets down the cup in his hand and spreads my thighs with easy familiarity, stepping in between them. The scent of him, spice and soap dipped in heat wraps around me. I loop my arms behind his neck, and he fits there, just like before. His hands slide to my waist.
“Shame we can’t do that again right now,” I murmur.
He leans in, flush against me, and I can feel the truth of his body answering mine. His mouth finds my neck, my jaw, then my lips and for a few precious seconds, everything else falls away: the tension, the noise, the worries. Bliss on our tongues.
A tiny cough echoes from down the hall, Zosia’s, soft and helpless. We break apart instantly, straightening like guilty teenagers. I rub my palms against my jeans, trying to chase off the tremor.
Dominik sighs, glancing toward the hallway. “Another babysitting night soon. Piotr owes me for plenty.”
I laugh, the sound half relief, half leftover heat. He chuckles too, goes back to stacking plates, every motion a reset. I watch him for a long moment before he speaks again.
“So.” He keeps his eyes on the sink. “Obelus. When did he become…a friend?”
The dread creeps up fast. “He showed me the cover since I’m Polish, asked for some help with it. Nothing major. We don’t get much time to talk.”
It feels like a half-truth, but I convince myself it’s a full one.We just talk, that’s all.The way my pulse spikes when I hear his voice wasn’t the question, but the guilt still makes its way in.
“Hm.” He doesn’t look up, but the tension in his shoulders says plenty.
“What?” I ask.
“Does he text? Call?”
I swallow. “A mix of both. It’s not often—”
“Right. A super busy, famousrockstarfinds time to text andcallhis eye doctor? Strange, isn’t it?”
The scoff escapes before I can stop it. It crawls all over me, the implication that I’m tooordinaryto be worthy. That he’s baffled why someone likeObeluswould bother speaking to someonelike me. Maybe that’s why Rafe makes my body feel like it's waking up, because when he gives his time, I feel like I matter. The anger flares anyway, fast and hot.
“Strange,how? I’m notjusta doctor. I actually have a brain,interests.You’re acting like someone wouldn’t want tobore themselvestalking to me.”
