Chapter 7
Neither of us spoke much during dinner. The odd comment, lots of looks passing between us. He was different tonight. Always intense, he had an underlying sense of unease or sadness about him. It was reflected in his eyes at times. I longed to ask him, but I had a feeling he wasn’t ready to talk. But I also sensed what was bothering him might have led to this impromptu visit. I knew I had to be patient. When he was ready to talk, he would. Hannah was much the same way, and I had learned when to push and when not to.
We finished dinner and sat back, sipping the last of the wine.
“I didn’t bring dessert,” he mused. “I didn’t think.”
“I can handle that,” I said with a grin. “It’s covered.” I stood, taking our plates. “I’ll tidy up and make coffee. You sit and tell me about your day this time.”
He stopped me with a hand on my waist. He gazed up at me, and once again, I saw the sadness lurking in his eyes. But he smiled and tugged me down, kissing me gently. “This dinner has been the best part of it,” he murmured.
I kissed him back, unable to hug him since my hands were full. “Mine too,” I admitted.
“Getting used to me?” he teased.
I shrugged. “A little.”
He grinned and pushed me away. “Get to work.”
I put on the coffee to brew and tidied up. There wasn’t much since Dom cleaned as he cooked. I put the dishes in the small portable dishwasher in the corner, rinsed out the pan he’d used for the steaks, and wiped down the counter as he talked. He told me a funny story about a customer in the garage that made me laugh.
“She insisted she wanted the ‘good air’ for her tires. She told us the garage she’d used in Toronto kept it special for her. She even showed us the bill.”
“I assume she knows nothing about cars.”
He shook his head. “Maxx explained it to her and the fact that she’d been ripped off for a couple of years. When she found out there shouldn’t be a charge for filling her tires, she was upset. Maxx went through all her bills. They’d charged her for all sorts of things. Extra thick oil, extended warranty spark plugs—the list went on. Charly was so incensed that she called the garage while the customer was there and tore them a new asshole. They agreed to refund some of her money, but not enough. She advised the customer to go to the Better Business Bureau with a complaint.”
“How did she find you?”
“She was driving by, and her tire pressure light came on. Maxx thinks they were underfilling her tires purposely so she would go and they would ‘top them up.’ She was paying a monthly maintenance fee for it since they told her that was the cheapest route. Maxx—all of us—hates to see people, especially women, get ripped off. He convinced her to come to the classes we hold so she could understand her car better. She’s young and pretty and, frankly, clueless—an easy target.”
I carried the coffee to the table and set it down with a couple of plates. I bent and kissed him. “She’s lucky she found you guys.”
His eyes crinkled in pleasure at my statement.
“Now, don’t laugh when you see dessert.”
“Okay.”
I opened the refrigerator, taking out a small box. I slid the contents onto a plate and set it on the table. Dom stared at the small birthday cake in silence. “What is that?” he asked, his voice sounding strangled.
I sat down, meeting his gaze. It was pain-filled and shocked. I was confused.
“My local bakery makes cakes. If one isn’t bought, she reduces them. I can never resist a white bakery cake. It cuts into two easily, so I treat myself on occasion.” I paused, noticing the fact that his hands had begun to shake. “Dom, what is it?”
“I can’t…” he choked.
I took the cake and put it back in the fridge. He stood and crossed to the living room, pulling his hands through his hair. I walked up behind him, sliding my arms around him, puzzled as to why the sight of a small birthday cake would cause him such sadness. “I’m sorry.”
He turned and wrapped me in his arms. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t expect that. I was trying to forget, to let it be another day, but then the cake—” He stopped, his embrace tightening. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat gallop.
“What about the cake?” I asked.
“Today is my son’s birthday,” he replied quietly after a moment. “Another one of his birthdays I’m not part of.”
“Oh, Dom,” I whispered, shocked at his words. “I’m so sorry.”
I looked up, meeting his troubled gaze. “Do you want to tell me?”
His eyes met mine, the pain in his gaze now obvious to see. Heartbreak was written all over his features.
“I’ll listen if you want. If not, I understand.”
He let out a long exhale of air. “I want to tell you. I never talk about it. But with you, Cherry, I want that.”
I stepped back, taking his hand and leading him to the sofa. “Then tell me.”
The room was quiet for a few moments as Dom gathered his thoughts. He looked as if he was going to talk a couple of times, then stopped. I wondered if he was unsure how to start, so I decided to ask him a few questions.
“I didn’t know you had a son.”
“I don’t talk about him.”
“Is he about Hannah’s age?”
“No. He’s much younger. He—Josh—is thirteen today.”
“Oh,” I said. “Much younger.”
“I met his mother when I was thirty-four. She got pregnant and had Josh when I was thirty-five.” He rubbed a hand over his scruff. “Our relationship wasn’t a good one. She was incredibly demanding and self-centered. Manipulative. Nasty when cornered. I broke it off after a particularly bad fight. She found out she was pregnant and told me. I wanted to be part of my kid’s life, so we got back together. Her pregnancy somehow made her softer, and we got along better. I thought things would be okay.”
“But they weren’t.”
He shook his head. “I loved being a dad. Everything about it—even the diapers. Roxanne was a good mom, and things were all right for a while. Then slowly, she began the mind games again. The demands. The constant emotional upheaval. I was to blame for everything in her life she hated.”
“How awful to live like that.”
He shut his eyes, his hands curling into fists on his thighs. I reached over and laid my hand on his, and he stared down, opening his fingers and flipping his palm over so I could grip his hand. I stroked the skin as he began to talk again.
“I stayed for Josh. I loved him, and I couldn’t bear to think of my life without him. But she was done with me and made my life miserable. She told me she wanted me gone, and I said I’d take Josh with me.” He stopped for a moment. “She was awful to me, but she was a loving mom to him. I couldn’t fault her that. But I hated the thought of my son growing up in such a toxic environment. She refused to let me take him. We argued and fought. She berated me constantly. Made me doubt every decision. The only peace I had was rocking him to sleep or sleeping on the floor by his crib. I left to stop the horrendous atmosphere. She got a slimy lawyer and a bunch of friends who swore that I was a deadbeat dad and did nothing. That I refused to marry her and settle down. I got a lawyer and had a few people to vouch for me too, but hers played dirty. I lost and got limited visitation, while she had full custody. I paid my child support monthly and saw Josh as much as I was allowed. Then one day, she got married. Informed me they were moving. Again, I fought and lost. Josh was three at the time. They moved to Simcoe, making it harder for me to see Josh. We fought all the time over visitation. When I would get him, he was difficult and cried to go home. The visits were awful. I think she filled his head with stories about me. Bad ones. At times, I thought he was afraid of me. Then I was informed they were moving out of province. I tried to fight it and lost. She used all the missed visitations against me, and I lost Josh.” He paused. “She even went so far as to say I might not be his father.”
“What?”
“She said she had an affair and that Josh might not be mine. I refused to believe that. He looked like me—he had my eyes. I demanded a paternity test, and she backed off. But it shook me. I doubted the truth for a while, even while I knew in my heart he was mine. I forced the issue to prove it, and the result was clear. I was his father.”
He kissed my hand, then released it and stood, pacing. “Every year, I send him a birthday card. I write him all the time and send pictures, but the letters come back unopened. The cards are returned. I have her cell number and I still call, but my messages aren’t returned. The only time I hear from her is if my child support is a day late. Which I do sometimes so her lawyer has to call me. Then I get a bad picture of my son and a brief update. That’s the only contact I have.”
“You must miss him.”
He met my eyes. “Every day. I think about him all the time. Wonder how he’s doing, what he’s taking in school. If he ever thinks about me.”
“Is she still married?”
“Not that I know. Last time I had that sort of info, she was on her third husband. The second one petitioned to adopt Josh, and I fought that and won. But I still don’t get to see him. I flew out once to Saskatchewan, and he refused to see me. I hung around for a week, showing up every day, asking for five minutes, and got nowhere. Roxanne told me I was upsetting him, so I left. I hated the thought that my presence was hurting him.” He tugged on his hair, clearly emotional and upset. “She got some sort of restraining order against me, saying I was harassing her and Josh. Then she moved again, and I have no idea where. All my contact is through her lawyer. My last three calls weren’t even acknowledged. My lawyer said there was nothing he could do for me, so I have been trying to figure things out on my own. And failing badly,” he admitted with a frown.
Unable to bear his pain or the distance, I went to him, wrapping my arms around his torso. “I’m so sorry, Dom. If I’d had any idea, I would never have brought out?—”
He shook his head, silencing me. “You didn’t know. No one does.”
“Why don’t you talk about him?”
“It hurts too much. And I’m ashamed. Sometimes I wonder if I should have fought harder, played dirty the way she did.”
“It sounds as if you tried to put him first. It also sounds as if you keep trying.”
“My father walked out on me when I was six. I didn’t want Josh to think I abandoned him. I know that hollow feeling it leaves in your life.”
“Do you think your ex poisoned him against you?”
He nodded. “She was great at manipulation. Always the victim.” He barked out a humorless laugh. “I was always the villain. Even when we were together. She even had me believing I was a bad guy at one point.” He rested his chin on my head, his voice low. “Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t have been easier to have walked away when she was pregnant. Then I remember what it felt like when he said ‘Da-Da’ the first time, and I know I wouldn’t give that up, in spite of the pain I feel all the time.” He swallowed. “I miss him every day.”
“I understand. I almost lost Hannah, and if I had, I would have been grateful for the years we had together.”
He pulled back. “Lost her? How?”
“She was shot on the job. They weren’t sure she was going to pull through,” I said, my voice quavering as the memory of that awful time went through my mind. “Her partner died.”
He cupped my face. “Jesus, baby, I didn’t know.”
“That’s why she left Toronto. Went to Lomand. It was smaller, safer.”
“But you miss her.”
I nodded. “But knowing she is happy and safe is more important than her being here where I would worry myself sick daily.”
“That’s how I feel about Josh. He’s safe. In the pictures, he looks happy. I have to be satisfied with that. Hope that one day he reaches out and lets me tell my side of the story. Allows me to get to know him.”
“I hope that happens for you,” I whisper. “He should know what a great guy his father is. That you put him first, despite the pain it caused you.”
“You understand.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I do.” A realization hit me. “That’s why you let people think you’re a love-’em-and-leave-’em type. It’s all a front.”
“Yes. I didn’t want to fall for someone again and lose them. I didn’t get close to anyone after I lost Josh.” He smiled sadly. “Until I met you. You blew all that out of the water, Cherry G.”
Our gazes locked. “You’re amazing.”
He bent, brushing his mouth over mine. I rose up on my tiptoes, kissing him back. He pulled me close, deepening the kiss. There was shared pain in our caress. An understanding between us of loss and comfort. He tugged me closer, his hands slipping under my sweatshirt, tracing delicate lines of pleasure up and down my back.
“I need you,” he murmured against my neck. “Please let me have you.”
“I need you too,” I replied, shocked at how badly I wanted him. How much I wanted to help him forget his pain. Remind him of the joy in life. In being with me. Right now. I stepped back, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.
I fisted his shirt, and he yanked it off, tossing it to the floor, uncaring. We kissed as I fumbled with his belt, long out of practice. He laughed low, helping me. Tugging on my leggings and pulling my shirt over my head, then staring at me as he smoothed my hair away from my face. “You are so beautiful, Cherry. Incredibly so.”
I ran my fingers over the tattoo on his chest, understanding the fractured heart and date etched in his skin. I hadn’t asked him about it when I first saw it, somehow knowing it was personal and painful. I pressed my lips to the poignant reminder he carried on his skin right over his own heart, and he sighed, his body shuddering as I cupped him.
“Show me,” I whispered. “Forget everything but me. Us.”
In seconds, I was on my bed, him looming over me. He kissed me slowly. Leisurely. Long, drugging kisses that stole my senses and made me dizzy. He lapped and nipped at my neck. Sucked and licked his way down my body, exploring every inch. Making me wild with desire. When his mouth closed around my clit, I arched off the bed, crying his name. Mere moments passed before I was coming, my body exploding into shards of pleasure. Everything around me shimmered in light as I succumbed to the ecstasy of his mouth.
Before I could recover, he rose on his haunches, dragging me up his thighs and sliding into me. I gasped as he filled me, still adjusting to his girth. He groaned, his head falling back as he gripped my hips, pinning me in place as he moved. Every thrust brushed up against my already sensitive clit, and I whimpered as I felt the stirrings of another orgasm begin to form.
“No,” I breathed out. “I can’t.”
Dom shifted, towering over me, my legs resting on his shoulders, sinking even deeper. “You can, and you will,” he murmured, his voice low and full of dark promise. “I’m not coming until you do again, Cherry. So, let go.”
I clutched the sheets, the pleasure building to an almost painful point. My body shivered and shuddered. My nipples were stiff points, my core on fire. I felt frenzied and hot. Needy and wanting. Desire peaked, the emptiness I carried within me all the time disappearing as Dom filled me. There was no room for anything but him. Us. This passion.
He lifted me higher, his fingers digging into my hips so hard, I knew they’d leave bruises. I didn’t care. I wanted those marks. I wanted to look at them and remember this moment. He moved faster, grunting and cursing, the sweat on his skin glistening in the low light. “Come with me, Cherry. Come now,” he pleaded, hitting a spot so deep, it sent me over the cliff. I cried out, my muscles clamping down, pulling him in deeper.
The world around me shattered. Splintered into thousands of shards like a mirror being hit by a brick. Lights danced behind my eyes. Colors I had never seen erupted, bright and beautiful. My body took on a mind of its own, stretching, grasping, holding him.
He yelled my name. Shouted out in pleasure. Groaned in desire. Praised me.
“That’s my good girl.”
“Yes, strangle my cock. Fuck. Yes.”
“Like that. Yes…yes…yes!” he roared.
And then the world stood still. Our bodies peaked, slowed, then stopped. He heaved a long sigh, dropping his head to his chest. I collapsed on the mattress, boneless, spineless, unable to form words or thoughts. He kissed one ankle, then the other, loosening my legs from his shoulders. Pulling out of me, leaving me aching and empty for him. He stretched out beside me, dropping an arm over my torso, and for a few moments, there was no sound aside from our breathing.
Then he spoke, his voice gravelly and low.
“Holy shit.”
I started to giggle at his words. He began to laugh, his amusement muffled in the pillow. My giggles turned into guffaws, and he rolled, tugging me close.
“I should be insulted that you’re laughing after my efforts.”
“I’m not laughing at your efforts,” I assured him. “I’m laughing at your observation of your efforts. Short but completely accurate.”
He started to laugh again. “I think I might have short-circuited my brain. That last orgasm was pretty intense.”
“All of mine were,” I mused.
He rose up on his elbow. “All of them? As in, more than two?”
“Maybe.”
He grinned. “Then I did my job.” He bent and kissed me softly. “As did you. Thank you, Cherry G. You were exactly what I needed today.”
I smiled, running my hand through his hair. “You’re welcome.”
“Now, how about some cake?”
I frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Celebrate this day with me. Maybe one day, I can introduce you to Josh.”
“I’d like that.”
He bent and kissed me again. “So would I.”