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Kendall
Dominick returned to the grill to finish cooking our dinner, leaving me on the lounge chair with a tornado of thoughts in my head. Most of them picturing Daisy in her giant house, alone, drowning in her avalanche that seemed to be gaining more momentum each day.
Maybe I really did need to reach out, to try and find a way to be there for her. It was too late to even consider leaving the show—I was under contract, and it was ironclad. My first endorsement had come in, the deal signed, and Brett had emailed the details of another one, which had been sent to Dominick this morning for him to review.
Was it too late to stop it all just to please my sister?
Did I even want to?
And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, it did the moment my phone vibrated from my back pocket.
Daisy: You’re ruining my whole life. I hope you’re fucking happy. And I hope you’re fucking proud of yourself.
My entire body shook as I read her text, my heart pounding as though I’d been running.
I glanced at Dominick. He was standing at the grill, flipping the meat, so I turned my attention to my phone, fingers hovering above the screen.
She was so angry, and it was my fault.
Somehow, I had to make this better.
Me: I’m not happy. I’m not even close to happy. It kills me to know that things are going wrong in your life. I love you, Daisy. Let’s talk and air everything out.
Daisy: You mean, you’d step down from your high horse and meet with little ol’ me? Never.
Me: You know it’s not like that. You know I would do anything for you.
Daisy: I asked you not to do the show, so that’s a lie—you wouldn’t do anything for me. What else have you lied to me about? Oh, let’s see. 1. Your desire to get into acting. 2. Your attraction to Presley Jordan. 3. Your attraction to my attorney. I could keep going, but my fingers are getting tired of typing.
Me: Now, you’re just being catty.
Daisy: Six weeks since you moved to LA and you’ve already destroyed my life. SIX FUCKING WEEKS. Go fuck yourself, Kendall.
“Hey …”
I looked up, and Dominick was standing in front of the chair, the meat on one platter, the vegetables on another.
“You’re texting her, aren’t you?”
I took a big, deep breath, slipping the phone back into my pocket. “How could you tell?”
“Your expression. It’s also telling me the conversation didn’t go well.”
I tried to find my breath, stopping the tremors from racking my body. “She told me to go fuck myself.”
His jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together.
I would never take for granted how protective he was. It was one of the traits I loved most about him.
“Fuck her. Everything she’s saying is bullshit—you know this. So, stop focusing on Daisy and what you can do to repair things. It takes two, Kendall, and she’s made no effort. Instead, all she’s done is blame you for everything.” He nodded toward the house. “Tonight is about us, not her.”
He was right.
I couldn’t sit here and dwell on something I had no control over. When Daisy was finally able to see that she wasn’t the innocent party in this mess, maybe that was when things would change between us. Until then, we’d just have to continue with the way things were.
That made me even unhappier, but I had no other choice.
I gave him a smile, knowing that was what he wanted to see. “Let’s go eat.”
I followed him inside, draining the rest of my wine, and headed straight to the bar to retrieve the bottle, carrying it to the table. When I noticed Dominick’s glass on the counter by the grill, I went out and got it, filling both as I came back in.
He’d set the platters in the center of the table, all four of the steaks already sliced.
“I’ll get the potatoes,” I said, rushing into the kitchen, sticking them on a plate that I carried into the dining room. When I returned, he filled my dish with a little of everything, the aroma almost overwhelming as I sat in my seat. “I’m so ridiculously impressed right now.”
He picked up his wine, smiling. “Wait until you try it.”
I started with the baked potato, my knife sliding right through the skin. “It’s cooked perfectly.” I added the necessary condiments and took a bite. “Mmm, yes.”
While I chewed, I cut off a chunk of rib eye, the edges richly seared, a medium temperature in the center, a thick seasoning coating the outside. “Oh my God, Dominick.” I barely had to chew—the meat practically melted, the flavors exploding on my tongue. I added a few pieces of onion and mushroom into my mouth and moaned.
“You seriously know the way to my heart.” I pointed at my plate. “Food will always be my love language.”
He was holding his fork but stayed still, watching me dig into the jalapeño and place some over the tenderloin.
“Wow, that was just as good,” I said from behind my hand. “The spice and savory meat—now, that’s an unforgettable combo.”
Leaving his plate untouched, he set down his fork and lifted his wine, his eyes never leaving me while he drank.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
He didn’t immediately answer, but there was a grin on his face, an intensity in his stare that made me feel emotions I hadn’t expected. “Watching your happiness is better.”
My mood had turned the moment he’d put food in front of me.
Not just any meal would have done that. I was positive I would have still felt the slap of Daisy’s words had we been at a restaurant. But tasting Dominick’s love in each bite was what I’d needed.
And he had known that.
“You know, I remember the private jets and the five-star vacations and all the gifts Brett had bought James when they first started dating. Girls like her want to be lavished. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s just not you.”
“No, it’s not me.”
He reached under the table, his hand on my leg. “My time and attention make you smile the biggest.”
“And your cooking.”
He laughed. “Baby, you can have as much as you want of all three.”
