48. Dom
Chapter forty-eight
Dom
I close the door as slowly and quietly as possible, holding my breath until I’ve completely backed into the hallway and the door is fully latched. I wait, unmoving and eyes wide, listening to see if my exit was a success.
I heave a sigh of relief before heading to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine, and rejoining Ellie in our backyard around the firepit. The fire crackles and sparks, casting Ellie in a warm glow as she reclines in the lawn chair.
The willow tree in our backyard sways gently in the breeze. Earlier, when I came home from work, I caught Ellie out here with Luca, her running through the low branches and greenery and Luca laughing and chasing after her as best he could on unsteady feet. I knew when I found this house it would be the home to all of my dreams. I’ve been lucky enough to watch them come true.
“Seems like it went well?” she asks with a nod to the monitor in my hand.
“It was…too easy,” I say with a heavy dose of suspicion, making Ellie laugh.
“I gave up on ever sleeping again. I’ve been too scared to say anything lately…but it’s better, right?” she asks.
“Thank fuck you said it first. Now if it all turns to shit, I’m in the clear.” She shoves my hip and I chuckle in my failed attempt to dodge her. I hand her a glass, filling it with wine before doing the same with mine .
“Cheers, to one last decent night of sleep before the next sleep regression, next tooth cuts in, or whatever the fuck else is about to ruin our REM sleep,” I say, before tapping my glass to hers.
“Cheers. It was nice while it lasted.” She pauses before continuing. “Most of me is ecstatic that he’s finally sleeping better, while this small voice is crying out at the fact that he’s getting older. More independent. God, I can’t think about the day when he doesn’t need me anymore.”
“Honey, he’ll always need you. The way he needs our support and the way we’ll show up for him will change for the rest of our lives, but it won’t stop. That’s the goal, right? Give him everything he needs to grow into the person he wants to be, and then support him the rest of the way.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Just hard to imagine my little baby all grown up and becoming a dentist or something.”
“You mispronounced teacher , babe. It’s okay. I know you’re tired. Just catching up on your sleep for the first time in two years is all,” I say, with a small pat on her head, which she swats away with a giggle. “I’m really proud of you.”
“For jinxing us and ruining our sleep tonight?”
“For taking care of yourself,” I say seriously. “For trying something new.”
Her smile softens, sensing the shift in my tone. “Thank you for taking care of me when I couldn’t,” she says, voice thick with emotion.
“I’m always going to want to take care of you, Ellie. You and Luca both. You two are my entire world. We were meant to do this together. We can’t both have it together all the time. There will be days when you have to drive the bus and days where I’m happy to do the same.”
“And what about the days when neither of us is capable of driving.”
“Then god help us, Luca’s in charge.”
She laughs and takes another sip of wine. “Do you think he’ll remember us like this? I have these memories of my parents in my childhood and they always seemed so confident. So put together.”
“I’d like to think even though he won’t remember specifics, he’ll remember how this time of his life felt . Despite all we’ve struggled with, I’ve loved getting to learn who he is and watching him grow. And watching you become a mom…it’s a gift, Ellie.”
“I hope he remembers the way it feels too. I hope he laughs as easily as he does now. I hope he smiles more than he cries. I hope life is kind to him, but he remembers that he can come home when it’s not and he needs to heal. I hope he appreciates the small things as much as the big things. I hope he knows nothing is ever broken, just evolving, growing.”
Her words soothe fears that linger in my head. “I want all those same things for you too. For us,” I say.
“With you, I have it all.” She pulls my hand into hers and holds it over her heart. I lean over and kiss her forehead, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and the smoke from the fire, listening to the crickets and the early summer breeze blowing through the trees and the hum of a delightfully calm baby monitor.
***
“We don’t have to do this. I haven’t talked to my parents about our…” My voice trails off, unsure if I want to bring up the biggest fight we’ve had in our relationship. “I mean, I wasn’t sure if you’d still be up for puzzle pieces after…” I say, hating the unease creeping along my shoulders and into my gut.
Ellie reaches across the car’s center console, her hand on my thigh.
“No, we should do this. I want to,” Ellie says, voice more confident than I feel.
“We can leave anytime you want,” I say as we get out of the car and I take her hand in mine, walking into the building together.
“Please, after the pole dancing classes Abby set up for us, this should be easy.”
My brain short-fucking-circuits.
“Hold the fuck up, the what now?” I ask, running to catch up with Ellie, who walked ahead of me while my brain froze.
She smirks over her shoulder and gives a shrug. “Maybe you’ll get to see some time. ”
“How about now?” I ask, grabbing her around the waist and trailing through the doorway after her.
“Down, boy,” she whispers as my parents spot us from across the room and make their way toward us.
“Unfair, Ellie,” I growl in her ear.
“Who said I play fair?” She winks at me. Goddamn winks at me like she was planning on dropping a bomb like this before we have to spend an hour in public and with my parents . Ellie in a pole dancing class… fuck , I need to think about anything else.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” my mom exclaims, taking Ellie into her arms for a hug.
“You two are in for a real treat today. The rumba, have you ever done it?” my father asks.
“Dad, you know neither of us has ever ballroom danced before,” I say.
“Right, right, of course. Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t waiting as long as your mother and I did. We had no idea we’d love it as much as we do,” he says.
“I heard congratulations are in order,” Ellie says excitedly. “Maybe we can make it to your next competition.”
“We’d love that,” Mom says, linking elbows with my wife and sitting alongside her on one of the long benches surrounding the edges of the open room. “I hope you both enjoy the class today. Maybe you’ll even want a repeat.” She bumps shoulders with Ellie as she puts on her dance shoes. “The rumba can be very saucy. Keeps the fire lit, if you know what I mean.”
“Jesus Christ.” I groan.
“Sure does. These steps can be very intimate if you put your passion into them,” Dad adds.
Ellie chokes on her own saliva and I’m about to choke on my own vomit.
“We needed something to keep us busy now that we’re both retired. Plus, we’ve got to have something to keep our bodies young so we can keep up with Luca as he grows,” Mom says.
“Now that he’s walking so confidently, it’s like he only has one speed. I think I need to take up running. The future looks…exhausting,” Ellie says .
Mom and Dad help us set up and find a spot on the dance floor among other couples while the instructor takes us through the basic steps.
Ellie’s a natural. Me, on the other hand…
“They said this was for beginners,” I hiss under my breath, nearly tripping over Ellie for the third time.
“Babe, I don’t know how much simpler they can break down the steps.” She giggles. “Here, follow my lead.”
Closing the space between us, she steps into me, aligning our bodies. Her head rests against my chest, and I feel her relax, causing my muscles to do the same.
“I’m pretty sure we’re still messing up the steps,” I say softly as we melt into less structured movement, abandoning any turns altogether.
“Maybe I like improvising with you,” she says, pressing a quick kiss to my neck.
“Doesn’t sound so hard when you put it like that,” I murmur.
“It might be difficult while we find our footing,” she says, pulling back to lock her gaze on mine. “But when you’re holding me, even the wrong steps feel safe.”
“We’ll make our own steps, yeah? Who says what the wrong steps are anyway?”
“You’re doing it wrong,” the brash instructor interrupts us, forcing Ellie to stifle a snort-laugh. “Horrible, just horrible form. Complete lost cause.”
The instructor’s critiques draw my parents’ attention, who don’t seem dismayed or deterred by our apparent lack of talent. Dad throws me an exaggerated thumbs-up and Mom puts a hand over her heart like she’s overwhelmed at the sight of Ellie and I, like it’s cute and we’re not being berated for sucking at this.
I guess the people who love you don’t care when you don’t do things the right way. They just want to see you try.