Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
S ex with Dominic was sweaty and fast in the morning. He kissed my cheek after, then left. I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, my body sated. He might not be capable of emotional intimacy, but physically…I’d never experienced anything like it.
He went to the building’s gym, and I left for a walk, carrying my binoculars to watch the river. The paved path was short, and traffic sounded like a roar. I’d never been much of a city person. Still, away from Gerry, my chest was loose for the first time in months. I took in a deep breath. The air smelled like the river and was crisp after an early rain.
I returned to the condo then halted in the dining room, my mouth hanging open. With a hand on my chest, I stared at the array of colorful and beautifully prepared wedges of fruit on platters covering the counter, surrounding two steaming plates of scrambled eggs and toast. The carafe of coffee looked like something from a resort. “You cook?”
He glanced up from slicing cantaloupe, unaffected by my awe. “A bit. Help yourself. I need to make some calls before we go. We’ll leave after lunch.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at him.
He shrugged and turned his back to me.
We sat in front of our computers for the rest of the morning. Rain pounded down from the gray sky when we left for the two-hour drive to Eugene. Dominic played classical music as he navigated the congested city streets onto the freeway.
“Who is this?” I’d heard it before.
“Mozart. ‘The Marriage of Figaro.’” Dominic accelerated around a slow-moving truck, zipping through traffic. “Makes me feel like I’m in a car commercial.”
I grinned. “Yes. Except you should be in the Italian countryside, not stuck behind a tractor-trailer.”
He sighed. “I’m there in my head.”
Before we’d left the sprawl of the city, Dominic instructed the car to put on the news. He listened to articles from the Wall Street Journal and The New York Times , with a focus on finance. I stared out the window, swallowing the questions I wanted to ask him. What’s the point? He isn’t interested in your future.
Dominic took a call from Ophelia as we passed into the farmland of central Oregon. “Hello, how are you?”
“Dominic?” Ophelia said, her voice on speaker. “I’m horrible. They’re giving me too many damn antibiotics. Lord help me.” She coughed. “Your cousin set a date. Early March something.”
“In Manhattan?”
“Yes. Said he hopes I can be there. Ha. Such a twit. I’ll be dead or still in this bed.”
Dominic rubbed his face. “I hope he knows what he’s doing.”
“He’s trying to please me, that’s what he’s doing. Marriage is fine, but I want babies. How’s Kelsey?”
“She’s here.” Dominic glanced at me.
I cleared my throat. “Hello. It’s good to hear you.”
“So, you’re still together. It gives me hope.” Ophelia sniffed. “Do you want babies, girl?”
“Ophelia,” Dominic said.
“Yes.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat, keeping my eyes straight ahead. “I want a family, badly.”
“We’re dating, Ophelia.” Dominic took a deep breath. “And, as I’ve told you many times, I’m unwilling to have children. The planet is overpopulated.”
“Yes, by idiots. Oh, here comes my torture team. Come visit me, both of you.”
The silence in the car after the call ended made the buzzing in my ears too loud. Stop overreacting. It isn’t a slap in the face—it isn’t even a surprise. What were we doing? He hated the idea of a family, yet he risked it a little when we had sex. I desperately wanted a baby and was with a man who couldn’t offer me a future.
“She sounds better.” I pulled at my necklace, the chain sliding over my tight throat.
“She does.” His hand rested on my arm for a moment. “Are you alright?”
I glanced at him—the sharp angles of his face, his thick dark hair cut in that classic business style, blended taper down the sides. His short growth of beard gave him a roguish appearance that warmed up my belly even as I knew we weren’t right for each other. I clasped my hands together and stared down at my nails.
“I’m a little shaky these days. I don’t think I deal well with change. Probably why I like numbers—a system with rules.”
“Hm. Things will settle down.”
We checked into our downtown hotel, and when Dominic pulled me into his arms and kissed me in our room, I didn’t hesitate to wrap my arms around his waist. You’re a hussy like your mamma always said. I really liked him—doomed relationship or not. Saying goodbye was in the near future, but I’d try to enjoy our time together while I could.
Tilly worked at a Starbucks and we arrived right as her shift ended. “Kelsey,” she shouted in the parking lot and ran across the asphalt to me.
I opened my arms. “It’s so good to see you.”
We hugged, rocking back and forth while I breathed in coffee, cigarettes, and caramel. Her frame seemed a bit bony, underweight. My heart clenched.
I kept an arm around her shoulder. “Tilly, this is Dominic—who’s offered to take us out to dinner. Your choice.”
“Hi.” Tilly was, in general, shy around men.
“Hi.” Dominic smiled faintly. “Can we take you anywhere before dinner? Is there anything you need? I’m at your service.”
Tilly blinked. “Thanks. I bused today—so I don’t have my bike. Can we go by my place? I’d like to change out of my work clothes…”
“Of course.” Dominic opened the car door for her.
“How was work?” I asked, glancing at the backseat as we buckled our seat belts.
Tilly lifted one shoulder. “Fine, I guess. The manager likes to play favorites, trying to pit us against each other like we’re third graders. But I’m used to it.”
The bungalow she lived in wasn’t far from the coffee house. There was a pile of bicycles on the front porch and a croquet course set up in the ragged grass of the front yard.
Tilly took us around the side yard to a basement cellar door. She swung the two doors on the ground open to reveal crumbling and water-stained concrete steps.
“Wait, are you living down there?” I asked as Tilly descended to the door.
She glanced back at me, the old wooden door creaking as she pushed it. “I know. It isn’t pretty.”
We followed her, my mind racing a mile a minute. It wasn’t safe. Dominic pulled on the cord of a construction light hanging from an exposed ceiling beam. It didn’t turn on.
Tilly coughed. “The electricity down here goes out if someone runs the dishwasher while I have the lights on. Hang on, I’ll flip the breaker.” She clicked on a flashlight.
I bent over with my hands on my knees. Dominic rubbed my back for a moment.
A string of Christmas lights came on. “There we go.” Tilly closed the metal box of the electrical panel.
Mouth hanging open, I stared around at the dark, damp space filled with spider webs. I wouldn’t want to store holiday decorations in that basement. “I need to talk to whoever has the lease. Are they home?”
Tilly opened a plastic tote on the floor. “That’s Sarah. Stop freaking out—it’s temporary.”
“What’s Sarah’s last name?” Dominic asked.
“Gibson.”
He nodded. “I’ll be on the front porch.”
I collapsed on her futon as soon as he left. “Why didn’t you ask me for help sooner?”
She exchanged her black turtleneck for a green sweater. “I don’t know…it was, like, really embarrassing. I’m failing at this.”
“Your classes?”
“No. In general.” Her shoulders hunched. “I should give up.”
“Hey.” I pulled on her ponytail. “I’m proud of you for finishing the term.”
She ran her fingers through her shaggy bangs. “Is that guy?—”
“Dominic.”
“Oh, right. Is he, like, an older rich dude? That car…”
“Yeah.” I grinned at her. “But he doesn’t seem old to me.”
“Dang.” She sat down next to me. “Are you happy?”
My heart twisted. “Well, it’s been fun. But I don’t think we’ll be together long.” I picked a leaf off the top of her sleeping bag. “Being away from Gerry—it’s like I’m remembering who I am. I feel…sick that I stayed with him. Like he had a spell over me.”
Tilly leaned into my side. “Mom wouldn’t stop going on about you breaking your engagement like you’d doomed yourself to hell or something.”
For the first four years of our relationship, I’d lived for the day Gerry would finally propose. He’d known, of course, and had used it to control me. Then I’d started making money, and the script changed. He announced to my parents that we were engaged a couple of years ago without speaking to me first.
“I never thought I’d be lucky to not be married. For the last three years, I thought if I loved him enough, he’d change.” He hadn’t, but I had—or more like I’d deteriorated.
Sighing, Tilly twisted her fingers together in her lap. “It’s hard to trust anyone. Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to do anything…romantically.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s—well, I have. I’m not a virgin. Kissed a girl, too. But I don’t know what I want. I don’t think I want anyone. When I’m sober.”
I nodded. “Well, the upside is it gives you more time for your art.”
She smiled at me. “You know, I feel like I could tell you anything. Let’s go to dinner. I haven’t really eaten anything today.”
We left the basement, Tilly closing the cellar doors to keep rain from flooding in. We interrupted a scene as we walked around to the front of the house.
Dominic stood on the front porch, calmly speaking to a red-headed young woman with her arms crossed. He held up his phone screen in front of her, and she nodded.
The redhead spotted Tilly and said, “Jesus. You could have talked to me first, you know. Move your shit up. And next time you’re late on rent, I’ll put your crap on the sidewalk.” She stomped into the house, slamming the front door behind her.
Dominic smiled, lazy and satisfied, as he came down the steps toward us. “I offered to report her to city code enforcement. She declined. Let’s move your stuff up before it gets any darker.”
Tilly laughed, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “Holy shit.”