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Chapter Eighteen
“Shit,” I muttered as the oven alarm started going off. I rushed towards the double oven to grab the meatloaf I had prepared before it could burn. “Shit, shit, shit.” I muttered, as I grabbed the pan out of the oven.
My potatoes were boiling over, and I was cursing the fact that I hadn’t just ordered takeout.
“What the hell is going on?” Dom rushed into the kitchen with a worried look on his face.
“You aren’t supposed to be home yet!” I hollered dropping the meatloaf pan on the counter with a large clang. Everything in Dom’s kitchen was state of the art, expensive, and heavy as hell.
Dom’s eyes were everywhere at once, and I knew that he was wondering what the hell I was trying to do to his kitchen.
I grabbed the pot of potatoes off of the stove, and immediately felt myself weighed down.
“Here,” Dom said. “Let me help you.”
He grabbed the pot out of my hands. “Where’s this going?”
“To the strainer in the sink.” I pointed to the strainer, and he immediately walked over and dumped the water out. I couldn’t help but admire the way his forearms bulged at the action.
Dom had been working from home during my recovery, and I was always blown away by how he managed to make a jeans and t-shirt look just as good as a full suit. It was unfair.
“Now,” he asked, as he sat the hot pot back on the stove, “you want to tell me what all of this is?”
I blushed and shifted back and forth. “I thought that I would make dinner tonight?” Saying it aloud made me feel silly.
“Is Giovanna sick?” Dom asked. He was leaning against the kitchen island, and he looked incredibly handsome doing so.
“She’s fine.” I started mashing up the potatoes, which took a considerable amount of strength. I was still recovering from my surgery, but I had a lot more strength than I previously did. “Who knew that this was so hard?” I muttered to myself. I had never cooked in my life, but I had spent a lot of time watching the cooking network, and I was sure that I could make a basic dinner.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m cooking,” I said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Dom raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Why, though?”
I chuckled as I added the butter and cream to my potatoes. I prayed that they would taste alright.
“I wanted to thank you for all that you’ve done,” I told Dom.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. He crossed his forearms as he watched me maneuver around the kitchen.
“There’s no need to thank me,” he said.
I chuckled as I grabbed plates. “You’ve basically been waiting on me hand and foot over the past few weeks.”
It was more than I had expected. I thought that when my wounds started to heal I would be on my own. Dom had done a great deal for me, so I couldn’t be too angry about it. But that hadn’t been the case. I’d struggled when we first got home, and Dom had stayed by my side. He staved off the nightmares.
Not that he would admit that he’d gone above and beyond for me. Dom wasn’t the type of man who would show weakness, and I knew that he viewed caring about me as some sort of weakness.
“Plus, I wanted to thank you for not putting up too much of a fight when I told you that I wanted to return to school,” I said.
I watched as Dom grimaced. He wasn’t happy about the fact that I would be returning to school tomorrow. It was the only time we had argued recently. He was convinced that I could only be safe in the house, and while I was still incredibly nervous that someone out there was gunning for me, I wasn’t going to sit in the house and hide. I had worked hard to get into school, and I wasn’t going to allow some masked killer to take that from me.
“Marco is going to be shadowing you,” Dom said.
I rolled my eyes. My days of freedom were over. Dom made it clear that if I wanted to attend school, his brother would be escorting me around.
“I’m sure he loves that,” I said, grabbing the plates. Dom walked forward to help me but I shooed him off. I was determined to serve him dinner. It felt oddly domestic, and I secretly loved it.
