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His initiative, while very beneficial, is so at odds with the man I know. This right here is scaring me. This right here screams long-term.
He stands up and gestures, all animated. “And we can refit the rest of the building into small apartments for people from out of town who come for treatment. Your dad can stay with you or easily afford a hotel, but this option will be affordable or subsidized by the charity. We have to figure it out.”
He paces in front of me and continues. “And the top floor with the terrace could be rented out to an architect firm, or someone like that. The lease would help with the maintenance of the property. I only ran a few numbers, and obviously I have no access to the Kyle West Foundation’s finances to find the best way to get this off the ground, but we can figure that out together.”
My heart hammers against my ribcage, pumping fear and excitement equally through my veins. And a dose of disbelief so large that I don’t even start to dissect it.
“You own the building?” is all that comes out of me.
He shrugs. “Let’s just say Felicia Warren had a good reason to accept my offer. What do you say?”
“Why are you doing this?” There is a long list of questions swarming in my head—mostly logistics on how this can work—but they are insignificant until I understand his reasoning. Uncharacteristically, I rein in the bubbling anger—my safety. I could lash out and all this would go away.
“My ticket to purgatory.” He winks. “What do you say, Chils? We could be like Melinda and Bill Gates, a power couple spending money meaningfully.”
A power couple? If he proposed to me right now, I would be less stunned. His proposal is in some ways bigger than a marriage one would be. This would tie us beyond the sham of a relationship we’ve been enjoying.
This would mean so much more for my work, but it would expand our current—very temporary—relationship, and fear at the idea is edging around my chest.
“But you’re leaving soon.”
The fever must have left parts of my brain incapacitated. His proposal is daring and fantastic. The woman in me wants to run. She regrets ever meeting this hurricane of a man. The altruistic me, so used to fighting for every win, is rejoicing.
“Look, I’ll rent the building to your charity at a minimal charge and write a personal donation every year to cover that rent, so you’ll manage the property. The clinic can be set up and running next week. Nia is our first volunteer and she’s recruited two of her classmates. You can figure out the rest later, and Chicago isn’t that far. Even after buying a building I can still afford my private plane.” He chuckles, leans down and kisses me.
I scoot away, needing to distance myself. “I don’t know what to say. I think you’re looking for ways to continue this fake relationship, Cressard.” I turn to mockery, the second-best response after anger.
“Look, Chils, the pro bono work has energized me, so leaving something behind that truly is meaningful is like a thank you for my time here, when I was able to get back on track.” He wraps his arms around me.
Then he whispers, “Get better quickly, because my balls are turning blue,” and despite feeling like shit, I shiver with pleasure.
Yet, his words don’t distract me enough from hisleaving something behindcomment. It’s not onlysomethinghe’ll leave behind.
* * *
It really only took Dominic two weeks to have the clinic set up.
Our doorman’s brother came to paint and fix-up the first floor. We had several businesses donating furniture. And Patagonia’s friends started volunteering. Word of mouth spread quickly, and after the first week we are already at full capacity.
Dominic works there actively. In fact, he’s there right now while I’m waiting for my dad to finish his treatment.
I try not to think about the personal ramifications of Dominic’s actions and generosity. I focus on the overall benefit, but it’s not lost on me how much I enjoy working with him.
How I admire his drive and dedication. His ability to solve any problem with a smile. Okay, a self-assured grin, which only adds to his appeal somehow.
Bianca is pacing the linoleum floor, the slap of her soles drilling into my brain.
She sighs and sits beside me, a cluster of nervous energy. I squeeze her hand.
“Your dad is thrilled you’ve found someone. Dominic is a great guy.” My hand dampens in hers.
I didn’t think we would have to keep up the lie for this long. Well, I didn’t really think it through at all, but it seems harder and harder to officially break up with him because my dad is not doing well, and I don’t want him to worry.
Somehow, we’ve fallen into this rhythm, living as an actual couple. With charity work, my family and his constant proximity, I get little time to myself.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I don’t mind it. Buried in preparation for the legal clinic and exploring options for the building, we don’t even bicker as before.
We fuck like we hate each other, and I wonder if it’s because we enjoy it or because it strips down the intimacy we experienced in the days after New Year’s Eve. His caveman, possessive bullshit at the club started it and we both jumped to put the brakes on it.
