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“Okay.”
He doesn’t ask what I want because he knows. One of my favorite times with Dom were the nights when we’d have sex then eat. That’s when I learned what a talented cook he is and when he found out how sexy I find him cooking. We usually ended up having sex again before he was finished preparing the meal.
“I booked the tickets to Luca’s wedding. We’re leaving on the Thursday night because of the rehearsal and coming home late Sunday. And I have bad news about the hotel.”
I swivel in the corner of the couch and look back at him. “Let me guess, we’re sharing a bed?”
“I could lie and say they only had king-size beds, but I scored two double beds. That’s the bad news.” He winks, and I hate that I wish there was only a king room left. “If you want to take our chances, I could try to get us two rooms, but if Ma finds out…”
“We’ll manage. Just let me know what I owe you.”
He moves from the fridge to the counter, then he’s heading back over with two plates and a bag of taco-flavored Doritos. “It’s my cousin’s wedding. You don’t owe me anything.” He hands me my plate.
“Thanks. But I’d like to pay my way.”
“Stop it.” He rests his plate on the coffee table and sits next to me. Opening the bag of Doritos with ease, he smiles at me. “It’s not a big deal.”
“And we’ll be done pretending after the wedding?” I take a bite of my roast beef and turkey sandwich, complete with mayo, lettuce, and a hint of Dijon.
“I guess we will be.” He leans forward and bites his sandwich. “Let’s watch more. We don’t have to be at my parents’ until four.”
I press Play and pretend that the idea of our fake marriage being over doesn’t bother me. We spend the afternoon watching television, and though I yearn to snuggle up to him in the hopes that something more might happen between us, I stay on my side, tucked into the corner, while he sprawls out as though he has no issue trying to keep us platonic.
I guess I’m the only one who still feels something between us.
* * *
At three-thirty,I walk down the hall to find Dom waiting in the living area, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. This time they aren’t gym shorts but a nice greenish-blue, and a gray V-neck. His hair is gelled after being freshly showered.
His gaze falls down my yellow summer dress with skimpy straps. It shows off my dancer body and I knew when I took it off the hanger that Dom would like it on me. A heavy breath leaves his lungs, and hunger spills from his eyes. How many times this week have I begged him in my mind to take me? Too many to count.
“Ready?” he asks, his voice cracking as he opens the door.
“Yeah.” I arrange my purse crossways over my body and walk out of his condo.
We make it down the elevator and past the doorman.
“Subway or taxi?” he asks once we’re on the street.
I’m busying staring at the blue sky as the sun warms my exposed skin. “Um… subway?”
“Okay.” He heads in the direction of the station.
I’m surprised he’s willing to take the longer way to his parents’. “If you’d rather—”
“No, it’s fine.”
We walk side by side without saying much other than commenting about a store or some other mundane topic. When we reach the subway, the train is just pulling into the station and we hop on. Forty-five minutes later, we’re in Brooklyn.
Once we get off at Carroll Street and we arrive in our old stomping grounds, Dom’s hand slides into mine. I look between us and he says, “For appearance’s sake.”
My insides do cartwheels as he guides me down the street.
“I feel bad for not coming over earlier and helping,” I say as we round the corner. “That’s what a good Italian daughter-in-law does.”
“She’s got Annie. She acts like an Italian daughter-in-law even though I think she’s part German or something.”
“She and Enzo seem happy.”
