Chapter Thirty-One
Maria
Dom wanted to talk.
Finally!
That was what he’d said, and that was a good thing.
It was, right?
I’d been going back and forth on it in my head since I’d gotten his text. A text, by the way. No call. No nothing. Just a stupid, measly text that read we need to talk . The least he could’ve done was sent a voice message so I could hear his voice, like I’d so badly wanted.
Want to hear something pathetic? I had scrolled through my camera roll after finishing eating my cheesecake—alone, might I add—and played videos I had of us, talking, laughing, goofing around. Just so I could hear his voice. Told you, pathetic.
I also knew that a lot of the reason we hadn’t been talking was because of me.
Well, technically, you could argue both sides. He could’ve eased me into a confession like that. I mean, I had no idea he felt that way about me. And wasn’t it possible he didn’t? Love me, that was. I was still going with my thought process that it was easy to get your feelings confused when sex was involved. And we’d had a lot of sex over the years. I mean, even I’d felt things lately. But I was sure they were orgasm-adjacent. Orgasm-induced? Whatever it was, I was pretty sure they were nothing. Which was exactly why I hadn’t said anything.
That was good, by the way, because look at how Dom saying something turned out—we were on a break. One that lasted way too long, if you asked me.
By the way, did friends even take breaks? Or was that another perk of being friends with benefits? It turned out I wasn’t liking this idea as much lately. Maybe I was wrong, and perhaps the idea wasn’t brilliant so much as it was flawed.
In my defense, when I’d first suggested it, I was horny and at a wedding where I was feeling down about myself and my dating luck. Word of advice: if you’re single, don’t attend a wedding. Not unless you’re okay with knowing you might do something incredibly stupid. And if you think you are, then consider me your cautionary tale.
Meanwhile, I was on my second cup of coffee and checking the time once again as I sat outside the agreed upon coffee house, waiting for Dom to show up. Not that he was late or anything. Dom was never late. I was ridiculously early. I’d gotten here—oh, I didn’t know—twenty minutes ago. I had to make sure I got a nice table outside under the warm summer sun, pre-gamed with a cup of coffee, so I could wake the hell up and be ready when he showed up wanting to talk. I also wanted to send the right message—you know, the one that said I care about you and what you have to say .
See, being here on time said I’ll listen, but then I’m leaving, and I’m only doing this because I feel like I have to. And if I showed up after him—even by a few seconds—it said I don’t care to be here. Get over your feelings, and let’s move the hell on already, okay?
I just wanted to make things right. I wanted things to go back to the way they were. Before. Things didn’t have to be awkward. They could just be . Did that make sense? Forget I asked because it did to me.
I took another sip of my coffee and practically spilled it down the front of my shirt as my eyes finally connected with Dom. He came. And he was on time, I noted, as I checked the time. Of course he was. He was the type of guy who was always on time (which, by the way, was completely okay because he’d requested this. . . thing).
As he approached the table, I stood up. Did I go in for a hug? Would that be weird? We never really hugged. Then again, we’d never gone without talking for this long. I decided to go in for a hug.
I wrapped my arms around his waist and snuggled my head against his chest. He smelled familiar. He smelled like Dom, and I relished it. “Hey, Dom,” I greeted him, my tone coming out more desperate than I intended. I didn’t care, though. I was desperate. Desperate for this spat or whatever the heck it was to be over between us.
But Dom was stiff as a board, his hand barely rubbing my back like it should’ve been. In fact, it just kind of sat there, barely laying on it. “Hey, Maria,” he said, his deep voice coming out monotone. Damn, why didn’t he sound desperate? Meanwhile, hearing him in real life sent a warmth coursing through my body—a warmth I’d been missing.
He cleared his throat and pulled back, going for the seat opposite of me. “I ordered coffee for you. Black, just how you like it.” I heard it in my voice—I was trying too hard. “I’m glad you texted.”
He leaned back with a hand around the coffee cup. “Yeah, sorry I didn’t respond sooner. I needed some time to myself, to think.”
I nodded, understanding where he was coming from. “Please, don’t apologize. I feel like we have so much to catch up on, though. Isabella misses you, but she’s really doing great at dance camp. At work, I’m writing a how-to article for the issue and I have to tell you, I’m—”
“Maria,” he cut me off, holding a hand up.
I raised a brow and gave him an inquisitive look.
“I didn’t come here to shoot the breeze or catch up,” he replied, his eyes narrowed but intent on me.
There was more he wasn’t saying, I could sense it. “Then what?” I didn’t move a muscle, but internally I frowned, wanting to curl into a ball and cry. Why couldn’t we move on? I needed to move on. I needed us to move past this.
“Maria,” he said my name gently this time before exhaling. “You can’t possibly think things are going to go back to the way they were.”
Tears stung my eyes, and I tried to steady my breathing, so he couldn’t tell I was getting all worked up—because I was. “I hoped they could.” Hoping for something wasn’t wrong, was it? Although, I was beginning to think it might have been na?ve.
“Jesus!” he exclaimed, a hand flying to his hair as he pulled at it before raking a hand through it. “You can’t be serious. I told you I love you.”
And I basically responded oh . I knew. I knew, and I couldn’t go back in time and change history, so what did he want from me? The worst part was that I didn’t even think if I could change it, I’d know what to say. Anything I came up with sounded lame.
I extended my arm on the table, bringing my hand as close as I could to him. He saw the gesture and reached his hand out, resting a hand in mine. I shut my eyes temporarily and sighed. I needed to feel him, for him to touch me, hold me. It made me feel closer to him. Because right now I felt so damn distant it wasn’t even funny. He was right in front of me, but with the way things were, it felt like we were oceans apart.
When he clearly noticed I didn’t know what to say, he cleared his throat and gave me a weak smile, causing my heart to swell in my chest and butterflies to fill my stomach. The effect this man had on me was unreal.
“I love you, Maria.”
Why did he keep saying that?
I licked my lips. “I know, but”—I shook my head—“you can’t mean it. It’s me. And it’s you. It’s—”
“Why not?” His hand retreated, leaving mine sitting there like a fool. “Because we’re friends?”
“No,” I replied quickly. “But, come on, are you sure?”
“Are you telling me I don’t know how I feel?”
“No!” This conversation was only making things worse. “I just”—I inhaled a deep breath before exhaling again—“don’t understand.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking up and mumbling something that I didn’t catch before gazing back at me. “I meant it when I said I couldn’t do this anymore, Maria. I’ve stood idly by and watched as you’ve dated all the wrong men. Men that don’t deserve to share the same air as you, let alone be with you, intimately or otherwise. I know we said we wouldn’t let emotions get involved, but fuck the rules, because I did. I fell for you, and I’ve been holding these feelings in for too damn long now. Have you never considered me?”
I blinked, my eyes still burning as tears threatened to come out. “I don’t know. Not really, I guess. It’s not because I don’t think you’re a great guy, it’s just—” I don’t think I’m right for you. I’m stuck in my ways and. . . and. . . I don’t feel like I’m good enough for you.
“It’s just, what?” Dom asked, his eyes dark as he glared at me, probably wishing he could pull the words from me.
When I didn’t respond, only shrugged a shoulder and swallowed, he blew outward. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s too fucking hard. I have you, and yet I don’t have you at all. I don’t think we can have it both ways anymore. I know you’re with Paolo now, so it’s a moot point, but even so I can’t have sex with you and not make love to you.”
My chin trembled and a lone tear ran down my cheek, falling in the corner of my mouth. I licked my lips and let the salty drop dance on my tongue. “I’m not with Paolo.” He had to know that. “And I hear you, so let’s not be friends with benefits anymore. Ever.” It was that simple.
He looked like he was about to say something. Maybe about how Paolo and I were no longer a thing, if you could even call us that in the first place. But he shook his head as if he thought better of it. “You’re not understanding.”
“Then help me understand because I don’t know what you’re saying.” Please don’t be saying what I think you’re saying.
He placed his tongue in his cheek and seemed to be at odds with himself, like it was killing him to say it as much as it was me to hear it. “I’m saying it’s all or nothing. I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I don’t see that changing.”
I closed my eyes and let the tears fall with abandon. The pad of his thumb brushed over my cheek and under my eyes, wiping them away. When I finally opened my eyes again, I saw he was kneeling beside me.
“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” he told me, his voice filled with sympathy and compassion—two things Dom had never lacked a day in his life.
“I do love you,” I started, my voice cracking.
“Just not in the same way,” he supplied.
I wanted to tell him that was wrong, that he was wrong, and I did love him, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure I did. I couldn’t have. So instead of refuting it, I nodded.
Dom did the same, as if conveying his understanding. He lightly grazed his thumb over my lip, pulling on my bottom one and studying my expression as he did, his lips a narrow line. I let out a shaky breath and watched his eyes shut briefly as he seemingly found the courage to say his next words. “I got a modeling opportunity.”
My heart was so full for him. “That’s amazing,” I gushed, completely proud of him.
“In Italy,” he added, his voice flat, causing my stomach to plummet to the floor.
I swallowed hard, the tears streaming down again. I didn’t know much, especially where this conversation was concerned, but I knew this: Dom wouldn’t be telling me about it in this way if it was a short trip. He was telling me because—
“I’d be there for six weeks.”
My gut clenched as I processed his words. “Six weeks,” I repeated, knowing there was a hint of shock and surprise that was coming out with the words.
“Yeah.”
I brought a hand to his cheek, needing to feel him, too. What was happening to us? We were Dom and Maria. Maria and Dom. We were jump-off-a-cliff-travel-to-the-ends-of-the-earth-as-long-as-it-was-together best friends. But it felt like that was no longer the case. Slowly things were shifting, changing, and what I once knew was very obviously becoming no more. Why couldn’t I love this man?
What made me so sure I didn’t?
Why was I such a frigging confused mess?
“So you’re leaving,” I said, decidedly phrasing it like a statement and not the question it really was. It was just easier that way, so he couldn’t catch me off guard again.
He shook his head, and I leaned into his touch as his hand cupped my cheek. “I haven’t decided yet. Jeff says they need an answer, though. I don’t have a lot of time before I have to give them one. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I didn’t understand. “Why?”
Dom smiled, but barely, and it was gone almost as fast as it came. “Because, Maria.”
Still confused, I shook my head. “What’s stopping you?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Maria, six weeks is a long time,” he said as if I couldn’t possibly understand that.
Which I did, by the way. If there was anything I understood, it was how six weeks was a long time. I wasn’t completely dense.
Dom cleared his throat, still on bended knee beside me outside the coffee house. “If there’s any chance you could love me back, I had to know. That’s why I wanted to talk.”
I bit my lower lip. What was I supposed to say? I wasn’t sure I did. No, no, that wasn’t accurate. I didn’t. At least I didn’t think I did. Finally, I addressed his comment, sharing, “I. . . I don’t know.”
Dom’s hand fell and a shiver ran through me at the loss of his touch. He stood up and walked back to his seat. “I can’t put my life on pause for I don’t know . You understand that, right? I mean, I have no idea what will happen in either of our lives over six weeks, but I think that’s something we have to accept. I can’t keep waiting for something to happen between us that is never going to happen.”
“I don’t know what to say, Dom. I’m sorry. I wish—”
He put a hand up. “Don’t. I already know. I’ve made plenty of wishes lately. None of them came true. And I’m not trying to put you on the spot.” He scratched his chin. “I just needed to tell you.”
“Dom.” I ran a hand through my hair, overwhelmed. I was suddenly feeling so desperate, so anxious, I wanted to scream. Instead, I grabbed hold of what was possibly the least important thing in the world and held on tight as I asked, “Are you still coming to Isabella’s birthday party?”
He shrugged. “Probably not. If I say yes to this deal, then I’ll be in Italy already.”
He was going to miss her birthday? “But you’ve never missed a birthday.”
“I know, but I have to move on with my life, Maria,” he reminded me, and that desire to scream became almost overwhelming.
What he wasn’t saying was that he was moving on with his life with or without me. “Is there any path where we can still be friends?” I’d be crushed if I lost Dom completely like that.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “In time.”
Did you hear that? The sound you heard was my heart breaking into a million tiny pieces that would take a miracle to be put back together again. “What am I supposed to do?”
Then he smiled and said, “Be happy. You’re supposed to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. It might take accepting a little change, but you can get there.”
“Change?” I shook my head.
“You know, the thing you’re so incredibly afraid of. And that fear of it that I think holds you back from even being honest with yourself.”
If there was a hidden message in there, I had no idea what he was saying. I didn’t like change. So what? Not everyone did. But I was always honest with myself.
Except maybe about my feelings for him. Because I knew I’d certainly had them. But what the hell did they mean?
Was I afraid to lose my friend and that was why I couldn’t figure it out? Was that what Dom was subtly trying to tell me?