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It's not a great fucking feeling, but I don't think I'm alone in saying that I've learned how to ignore it. Yet, I’d rather put up with those types of looks than the one Dom is giving me now. He's looking at me like he's trying to find my damn soul.
"Let's just scrap the entire Stephen story, and head straight into why you've been sitting here all night dressed to kill, drunk off your ass, and hanging out with little old me, hmm?" he coos, blinking at me innocently as if to soften his demand.
"No, no. That's okay. Let's talk about Ste—" I start, shaking my head adamantly.
"Nope. Not happening. I'll spill the Stephen tea after you spill the, wait, shit. What's your name?" he asks, pausing mid-passioned rant. The twists and turns of our conversation threaten to give me whiplash.
"Shiloh," I mumble, latching onto my straw once again only to realize my water glass is now empty. Dom rolls his eyes, but smirks at me before snagging my glass and quickly swapping it for a full one.
"Shiloh's a beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he smiles softly, but I see the calm calculation behind it. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way,spill."
Sighing heavily, I drop my head onto the bar as I resign myself to my current fate. Maybe I should just tell him everything. Get it off my chest like some sort of barside confessional. He's a stranger who probably hears people whine about their sad lives all day. He knows what to expect from depressed drunks who sit by themselves, and I'm pretty sure he already knows that I was stood up. It's not hard to guess.
Fuck it.
Rolling my head to the side, I lock eyes with Dom and let him have it. All of it.
"A little over a year ago, my ex-husband, Cole, and I divorced. We were together for almost ten years but only married for two." At that, we both grimace, Dom, knowing as well as I do that someone who waits almost eight years to propose probably didn't want to be married in the first place. I know that now, but hindsight is 20/20 and all that. "Just wait. It gets worse."
"Aww, shit. This is going to make me want to get drunk, isn't it?" he groans, running a hand through his hair and mussing it up. I nod stoically, because yes, my story is enough to drive a sober person to drink. Hence the reason I am where I am, drunk as hell.
"Right, so Cole and I met after college. I'd had quite a few relationships before him. I guess you could say I'm a serial monogamous. I love being in a relationship, and I liked all of the boyfriends that I had, but nothing ever took, ya know?" Dom says nothing, and I realize that I've already deviated from my original thought. Sitting up, I finish off my martini, needing the hit of alcohol for the conversation, before continuing. "Anyways, I met Cole when I was 22, at the school I was hired at after finishing my teaching degree. He was the principal there."
"No!" Dom smacks a hand down on the bar, making me jump. "He was your boss? Damn girl, get it!"
Shaking my head, I can't help but bark out a laugh at his dramatics. "Yes and no. He was technically one of my bosses, but it wasn't as taboo as you think. A lot of teachers had relationships with other staff members. It just happens when you spend so much time together, especially in such a stressful environment."
"Stressful? You make it sound like you were working on a battlefield," he jokes.
"I was a kindergarten teacher, Dom," I deadpan. "It was absolutely a fucking battlefield." His eyes widen in understanding before he crosses himself, muttering some sort of prayer. My eyes roll, but I smile at him just the same as he darts away to quickly refill my martini, probably sensing that I'm about to get to the good part. He gets pulled away once again while finishing my drink.
Dom rings up one more customer, settling his tab and making small talk. I peer around the restaurant, noticing I'm now the last one sitting at the bar and everything's pretty much cleared out. Glancing down at my watch, I see it's after eleven, and I'm guessing that an upscale place like this probably doesn't stay open past midnight. Just my luck. My night finally turned around with Dom's easy company, and he's going to have to kick me out soon.
Jogging back to me, Dom slides me my drink before setting a second glass in front of himself. When I arch a brow at him in question, he grins and shrugs. "Bar closed six minutes ago. I'm off the clock."
Fuck.Pulling out my wallet, I quickly fish out my credit card and pass it over to him. "Shit, sorry! Didn't mean to keep you here past closing."
Dom takes my card and drops it next to my drink, completely dismissing it. "For one, I'm exactly where I want to be. Everyone still has to close down their sections. We don't normally leave till after one in the morning so it's fine. For two, put your money away. I don't want it."
Feeling a wave of his pity wash over me, my body tenses, and I fight the urge to take off before I can embarrass myself further
"Stop it! I don't feel sorry for you. I didn't put your meal into the computer system, I just grabbed it from Stephen in the kitchen, and you deserve the drinks as payment for having to sit on the shitty, uncomfortable barstool for half the night, so stop with your pity party and finish telling me your story so I can get to mine." He finishes with a wink before blowing me a kiss, effectively breaking the tension. We both fall into a fit of giggles before taking healthy swigs of our drinks.
"Kindergarten," Dom gestures to me as he reminds me where I left off. "Why did you say where youusedto work? You also said you were a kindergarten teacher. Past tense. Are you no longer?"
Sighing, I shake my head and swallow deeply. This is where everything gets painful. More painful than the divorce and leaving Cole. Not knowing where to start without giving some sort of background for reference, I make the sudden and rash decision to just go all in with Dom. Maybe it's because I don't really have any friends besides Rayvn, my bestie from college, or maybe it's just because he's easy to talk to. Either way, we're about to get a whole hell of a lot closer.
Whatever. If it ends badly, I'll blame it on the vodka.
"When I was younger, I had really heavy, bad periods." Dom immediately chokes on his drink making me chuckle. "Sorry, but this is relevant, I swear." He composes himself once more before giving me a firm, albeit cringy, nod. "Yeah, so I went to the doctor when I was 16 and was put on birth control to regulate everything, with no other information than to take it regularly. Unfortunately, it didn't help and only ended up making me really sick. I tried a few different kinds, but it was all the same, so I was just told that I either put up with the side effects or abstain from sex. I even ended up with a blood clot after taking a certain brand."
"What? That's awful, and you were so young." Shaking his head, he reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. "My little sister dealt with something similar but luckily, the pills helped regulate things for her, and she felt a lot better. It's terrible that doctors just push a prescription on you instead of actually looking for the cause though, especially for such young women."
Dom's compassionate, heartfelt response instantly makes my eyes water. He unknowingly just showed more compassion on the topic than any other man I've ever met, including my ex.
Sniffling, I squeeze his hand in thanks. "Yeah, I agree. So, long story short, I chose to skip the chemicals and just deal with the shitty cycle and pain. There was never any point since I wasn't actually having sex at the time, and if and when I eventually did, condoms were available. Flash forward to my twenties. I started noticing other hormonal issues, so I consulted a specialist and discovered I have PCOS."
"Oh, shit. What's that?"
