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We talk about his cousin, who drives race cars. We talk about his aunt, who sews wedding dresses.
And I don’t get at all flustered talking to Dom about weddings.
And I press my fingertips to my cheeks to cool down because the drink is making me warm, not the topic.
My next margarita is perfect.
My noodles are perfect.
We talk more. We share more.
I tell him about Hawaii.
I tell him how I missed him.
I tell him that I wished he’d been there with me.
I smile when he looks at me.
I drink the water he hands me.
* * *
I takeDom’s hand as he stands.
My vision swirls as I let him walk me to the bathroom.
I sway to the music as I close my stall door. Feeling… good. A little dizzy but good.
I struggle with the double clasp on my pants but get them open.
I struggle a little more putting them back on but manage.
The soap is extra slippery.
The water feels good, and I let the cool liquid flow over my wrists.
The door to the bathroom opens behind me, and it’s him.
My Dominic.
His blue eyes lock on to mine through the mirror, and it feels like a dream. Like a really good dream.
“Come with me, Mama.”
He’s behind me now, holding out a paper towel.
“You shouldn’t be here.” I can’t tell if I whisper it or if I shout it.
Dom wraps his arms around me from behind and dries my hands for me. “For once, we disagree.” I start to close my eyes at his voice. “This is where I need to be.”
Lips press against my temple.
“I really like you.” I make sure I whisper it this time.
Those lips press against my temple once more. “I’m going to remind you that you said that.”
* * *
