8. Dominic
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Dominic
I don’t sleep.
The moment I close my eyes, I see Caleb’s face. That smug, self-satisfied expression when he offered me money to betray Sophie. Like everyone has a price. Like loyalty is just another commodity to be bought and sold.
He’s always been like this. Even as kids, he treated people like pawns in whatever game he was playing. Our parents. His friends. His girlfriends.
Celia.
I force the memory down before it can surface fully. I can’t afford to get lost in the past right now. Not when the present needs my attention.
By morning, I’ve given up on rest entirely. I shower, dress, and head out for coffee because if I’m going to be awake, I might as well be caffeinated.
The coffee shop on the corner is one of my regular spots. Small, quiet, run by an older woman named Rosa who knows my order by heart and never tries to make small talk. The perfect place to clear my head.
Except today, it’s not quiet.
Today, there’s a baby screaming.
I know that scream. I’ve heard it through walls and floors and the thin membrane of sleep that’s become my normal state. That’s Anna’s scream - the high-pitched, inconsolable wail that means she’s past tired and into miserable.
I scan the shop and find them immediately.
Sophie’s in the corner, trying to balance a crying Anna on her hip while reaching for a coffee cup that’s dangerously close to tipping over. Her other hand is clutching a bagel that’s half-unwrapped, and her hair is escaping its ponytail in wild strands around her face.
She looks exhausted. Overwhelmed. Beautiful in a way that makes my chest tight.
Stop, I tell myself. Just get your coffee and leave.
But my feet are already moving toward her.
“Need a hand?”
Sophie looks up, startled, and something flickers across her face when she sees me. Relief, maybe. Or something else.
“Dominic.” She says my name like she’s been thinking about it. Like it means something. “Hi. I’m just - she won’t stop crying, and I needed coffee, and I thought if I could just-”
“Give her to me.”
“What?”
“Anna.” I hold out my arms. “Let me hold her while you get sorted.”
She hesitates, and I watch the battle play out on her face. Trust versus self-reliance. Need versus pride. The exhaustion wins out, and she transfers Anna to my arms with a grateful sigh.
The baby stops crying almost immediately.
Sophie’s mouth falls open. “How do you do that?”
“I told you. I’m boring.”
“You’re definitely not boring.” The words slip out, and color floods her cheeks. She turns away quickly, focusing on her coffee and bagel like they’re the most fascinating things in the world. “I mean - you know what I mean.”
I do know. And I shouldn’t be pleased about it. But something warm spreads through my chest anyway.
Anna makes a soft cooing sound and grabs at my shirt collar. Her little fingers are surprisingly strong, and she seems determined to pull herself up to examine my face more closely. When she gets close enough, she pats my cheek with one chubby hand.
“She likes you,” Sophie says, watching us. There’s something in her voice - wonder, maybe, or confusion. “She doesn’t like anyone. The new babysitter I tried? Anna screamed for three hours straight until I came home. But with you…”
“Maybe she has good taste.”
Sophie laughs, and the sound does something to me. Loosens something I’ve been holding tight for years. “Maybe she does.”
We stand there for a moment, not speaking, just existing in the same space. Anna’s settled against my chest, making happy little sounds, and Sophie’s finally gotten her coffee situated. She takes a sip and closes her eyes in obvious relief.
“God, I needed that.” She opens her eyes and finds me watching her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“You have foam on your lip.”
Her hand flies to her mouth, and she wipes at it self-consciously. “Better?”
“You missed a spot.”
“Where?”
I don’t know what possesses me. One second I’m standing at a respectable distance, and the next I’m reaching out, brushing my thumb across the corner of her mouth. Her lips are soft. Warm. She goes completely still at the contact, her breath catching in her throat.
“There,” I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended. “Got it.”
Sophie’s eyes are wide. Her cheeks are flushed. She’s looking at me like I’ve just done something significant, and maybe I have. Maybe crossing that line - touching her, even that innocently - was a mistake.
But I can’t bring myself to regret it.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“For the foam?”
“For everything.” She takes a shaky breath. “For last night. For the groceries. For being the only person Anna will stop crying for. I don’t know why you keep showing up when I need help, but… thank you.”
“Maybe I just like being needed.”
“Do you?”
The question catches me off guard. Do I like being needed? I’ve spent fifteen years making sure I didn’t need anyone. Building walls. Keeping people out. Convincing myself that independence was the same as strength.
But standing here with Anna in my arms and Sophie looking at me like I matter… yeah. Maybe I do like being needed.
By her, at least.
“I should go,” I say, because if I don’t leave now, I’m going to do something stupid. Like touch her again. Like tell her everything. Like lean in and find out if her lips taste like coffee and sugar. “Work to do.”
“Right. Of course.” She reaches for Anna, and our arms brush as she takes her daughter back.
The contact sends a jolt through me, and I see her shiver too.
“Will you - I mean, if you’re not busy - you could come by later?
Alexa’s working late, and I could make dinner. As a thank you. For everything.”
She’s rambling. Nervous. Her cheeks are pink, and she won’t quite meet my eyes.
She’s asking me on a date.
Or not a date. A thank-you dinner. Completely innocent. Completely friendly.
Except the way she’s biting her lip and twisting a strand of hair around her finger is not friendly at all.
“What time?” I hear myself ask.
“Seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
Her smile is like the sun coming out. “Great. Good. I’ll - I’ll see you then.”
She turns to leave, and I let her go, watching the sway of her hips as she walks away and hating myself for noticing.
This is a bad idea. Getting closer to her is a bad idea. Every moment I spend with Sophie makes it harder to keep my distance, harder to remember why I’m really doing this, harder to separate protection from something else entirely.
But when she reaches the door and looks back at me one more time, that smile still playing on her lips…
I know I’m going to show up at seven.
I know I’m going to keep showing up.
And I know, with absolute certainty, that I’m in over my head.
***
I’m almost out the door when a voice behind me stops me cold.
“Sophie?”
I turn.
A woman is standing in the middle of the coffee shop, mascara streaked down her face, designer clothes rumpled like she slept in them.
She’s pretty in a manufactured way - too much makeup, too much effort - and she’s staring at the door Sophie just walked through with an expression that makes my hackles rise.
Andrea.
The babysitter. The other woman. The one who helped my brother betray his wife.
I didn’t recognize her at first - I only saw her briefly that night in the apartment - but now that I’m looking, I see it. The desperation in her eyes. The slightly unhinged quality to her posture.
She hasn’t noticed me yet. She’s too focused on following Sophie.
I move before I can think about it, stepping into her path.
“Excuse me,” she says, trying to push past me. “I need to-”
“You need to leave.”
She looks up at me, finally registering my presence, and her eyes widen. Recognition dawns. “You. You’re the one from the apartment. The neighbor.”
“And you’re the woman who was sleeping with Sophie’s husband.” I keep my voice low, controlled, but there’s steel underneath. “The one who helped him cheat on his wife while she was recovering from childbirth.”
Andrea’s face twists. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“I know enough.”
“Sophie doesn’t deserve him.” The words come out bitter, ugly. “She never appreciated what she had. Caleb is - he’s brilliant and successful and he chose me. He loves me.”
“He’s using you.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” I step closer, and she steps back instinctively.
Good. She should be afraid. “He’s a surgeon with a spotless reputation and a society family.
You’re the babysitter he was sleeping with behind his wife’s back.
How do you think that story ends? You think he’s going to leave her for you?
You think his parents are going to welcome you with open arms? ”
Her lip trembles. “He said-”
“He lied.” The words are harsh, but they need to be.
This woman is a threat to Sophie, and the only way to neutralize her is to break the illusion.
“Whatever he told you, whatever promises he made - they’re lies.
That’s what he does. He tells people what they want to hear until he gets what he wants from them. ”
“You don’t know him.”
I know him better than anyone. But I can’t say that.
“I know his type,” I say instead. “And I know that if you keep pursuing this - if you keep going after Sophie and her daughter - you’re going to end up hurt. Or worse.”
Andrea’s face crumples. For a moment, she looks young and lost and pathetically naive. Then her expression hardens again.
“Anna belongs with her father,” she says. “With her real family. Sophie stole her away, and I’m going to help Caleb get her back. That’s what he wants. That’s what he needs. And when I give it to him, he’ll see-”
“He’ll see what? That you’re useful?” I laugh, and it’s not a kind sound. “The moment you stop being convenient, he’ll throw you away like garbage. That’s what he does. That’s who he is.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m telling you the truth.” I lean down until we’re eye to eye. “Stay away from Sophie. Stay away from Anna. If I see you near them again, you’re going to regret it.”
“You can’t threaten me.”
“I just did.”
We stare at each other for a long moment. Then Andrea makes a small, wounded sound and pushes past me, running out the door in the opposite direction Sophie went.
I watch her go, my hands still clenched at my sides.
She’s not going to stay away. She’s too far gone, too wrapped up in whatever fantasy Caleb sold her. She’s going to keep coming back, keep causing problems, keep trying to prove herself to a man who sees her as nothing but a tool.
I need to warn Sophie.
I need to protect them both.
But first, I need to figure out how to do that without revealing who I really am.