Chapter Twenty-Four
“What're you doing?” I narrow my eyes at Dominic as he stares down at his whiskey like it's sewage.
“What?” he asks.
“The restaurant. The way you talked to that waiter. And whiskey.” I point at his glass. “You hate whiskey.”
“Why would I hate it?” he asks before taking a sip. “It burns on the way down. Why wouldn't I love that?”
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. This date has been a disaster. From the moment he tossed his keys to the valet, to the way he talked to the ma?tre d', to the way he snapped at the waiter after my soup spilled, to the way he keeps casually mentioning all the important people he's met.
I get it. He fought in wars. Met presidents. Built a life. I don't need the slideshow.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
For the first time since we got in that damn car, I catch a glimpse of the Dominic I remember. Or maybe this is the real him now and the version I loved only exists in memory. Either way, I'm tired.
“No.” I toss my napkin onto the table. “I'm not okay.”
His expression immediately changes. “Bronwyn-”
“And I'd like to leave. Please.”
“Ben-”
I stand. “Now.”
Thankfully he'd already paid the bill, making a whole production out of it too. So, I don't wait. I just walk.
The whole way out I keep thinking the same thing.
I should've driven myself.
Dominic catches up before I reach the valet stand. Neither of us says a word. Not while the car is brought around. Not while we climb inside. Not while he starts driving.
I spend the entire drive staring out the window, but not really seeing anything. I’m disappointed in him, in me. And honestly a little sad.
Because I'd been excited.
Which was stupid.
By the time the car finally stops, I haven't paid any attention to where we're going. I reach for the handle, then freeze.
The house in front of us definitely isn't mine.
Partly because it's still being built.
I slowly turn toward Dominic.
“So you're not only a jackass,” I say. “You're also a killer now.”
A laugh escapes him. “Come on.”
He gets out before I can protest.
Fine.
My curiosity wins.
Stepping outside, I immediately regret not bringing a jacket. Then again, I'd expected dinner. Not... whatever this is.
Dominic gestures toward the front of the house.
“This whole area is getting paved. Basketball hoop over there.”
I nod.
“The front doors are gonna be huge. Mahogany.”
I nod again.
“Not that fingerprint steel crap everyone has now.”
Still nodding, I follow him through the unfinished house. We pass what will eventually be a massive living room and step into a kitchen bigger than my first apartment. Large glass doors overlook the backyard.
“The upstairs isn't safe yet,” he says. “But check this out.”
He leads me around a tarp and into the back.
“This will be-”
“Where you bury me?” I cut in.
He laughs. “No.”
Before I can complain about the cold, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. Immediately I'm surrounded by his warmth.
And his scent.
Annoying when I’m trying to be annoyed at him.
“This is where the pool's going.”
I glance over.
“Pool?”
“Temperature controlled. So we can use it during winter too.”
One word catches my attention immediately.
“We?” I repeat.
Dominic scratches the back of his neck.
“Well...”
Oh no. There's a well.
“There'll be garden beds over there.” He points toward the side yard instead of answering. “Flowers. Maybe vegetables.”
“Dominic.”
“A greenhouse eventually.”
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“I'm moving to LA.”
The words come out weaker than I'd intended.
His shoulders slump. “I know.”
For a moment he watches the unfinished backyard. Then he shoves his hands into his pockets.
“I know,” he repeats. “And today was my pathetic attempt at making you see Austin isn't that different from LA.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “I mean, we have valets and pools and-”
“Men that act like asses?” I cut in.
Dominic winces. “You weren't impressed by that, huh?”
“If I was impressed by that,” I say, shoving my hands into his jacket pockets, “I would've stayed married to Brad.”
“Brad.” Dominic scoffs. “Sounds like a douche.”
“He is,” I agree with a smile. “But he's also Sophia's father.” The smile fades. “Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to stay. But I can't.”
His head lifts before dropping again. For a moment neither of us says anything. The wind rustles through the empty space, and Dominic looks away first.
The disappointment on his face makes my chest tighten.
“So maybe stop trying to bring LA here before it has to,” I finish quietly.
A small, self-deprecating laugh escapes him. “Does that mean I get a second date?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “It means you have until the end of this one to convince me.”
His grin appears instantly. “Do you wanna get ice cream?”
I blink. “Ice cream?”
“After the mess of that soup, I think we both deserve something that actually tastes good.”
“It was bad.” I agree. “I kinda wish the waiter had spilled the whole thing.”
“Right?” He offers me his arm like some Victorian gentleman. “It's like when you add another zero to the price of canned soup, they remove all the seasoning.”
“It had pepper,” I say with a cringe. “I like pepper as a spice. Not when it's the only spice.”
Dominic nods in agreement.
“Where are we going?” I ask when he steers me toward the road instead of his car.
“Trust me,” he says. “I bought this lot for more than the scenery.”
I hum and look around.
It's after ten, so everything is dark except for the lamps lining the sidewalk every few feet. The curved trees overhead frame the path, turning it into something almost magical.
Beautiful.
My heels tap against the pavement as we walk.
Dominic glances down. “Should we have taken the car?”
I hop over a crack in the sidewalk. “I could run in these babies.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You wear them that much?”
“Gel soles, baby.” I point at my feet. “Who said beauty had to hurt?”
He smiles, watching me.
I pretend not to notice.
When I drift back beside him, I bump his shoulder with mine.
“So tell me,” I say. “What else do you do with your time apart from meeting world leaders and saving babies?”
A surprisingly shy smile appears. The tip of his tongue peeks between his lips the way it always used to when he was embarrassed. “I like skydiving.”
I stop walking. “Really?”
“What?”
“So being an actual soldier wasn't enough?” I ask. “You also need to throw yourself out of airplanes recreationally?”
“Well...” He rubs the back of his neck. “I'm a Major in the National Guard now. There isn't actually that much soldiering left.”
“Then what do you do?”
His expression turns pained. “I'm basically a teacher.”
I burst out laughing. Because the Dominic I remember made every teacher at Ever High regret their career choices.
“Yeah, laugh it up.”
“Oh my God.” I clutch my stomach, still laughing.
“It's exactly as bad as it sounds,” he grumbles. “At least our teachers got to throw chalk at me. The worst I can do is make mine run drills.”
I wipe at my eyes. “It's karma, baby.”
“I know.”
“I bet it's the answer to Mr. Summers' prayers.”
Dominic groans. “Oh, I was an asshole to that man.”
“In your defense,” I say, “he probably shouldn't have made us switch seats.”
“Thank you! I’m glad someone understands.”
“He separated you from your girlfriend.” I say like I wasn’t the girlfriend.
“He deserved the honey.”
I wince.
The memory of Mr. Summers discovering his car covered in honey is still painful. I mean, the ants had been harmless. The wasps, however...
I gasp when we finally turn the corner and what comes into view is an honest-to-God arcade.
An arcade.
I slap Dominic's arm. Hard. “Oh my God.”
His smirk widens. “You like it?”
“Like it?” I stop walking. “I'm gonna beat your ass.”
The smile that spreads across his face is entirely too pleased with itself.
He starts toward the entrance. Since it's so late, the place is mostly adults. Not a kid in sight, which honestly makes the whole thing better.
The second we step inside, I make a beeline for the counter.
“Bronwyn-”
“Nope. You got dinner.”
Before he can argue, I tap my phone against the card reader and load up a ridiculous amount of credits.
The girl behind the counter notices my thigh holster when I pull my phone out.
“That's genius,” she remarks.
“Right!”
Dominic just shakes his head.
The arcade is exactly what you'd expect from Austin, half classic arcade, half weird Texas fever dream.
Neon lights flash over rows of pinball machines, vintage Pac-Man cabinets sit beside giant racing simulators, and somewhere in the back a mechanical bull spins lazily under colored lights.
We start with air hockey, where I absolutely destroy Dom.
Then we move to basketball, where he returns the favor and beats my ass.
We play skee-ball, race each other around virtual Circuit of the Americas tracks, shoot zombies, hunt aliens, and waste entirely too many credits trying to beat each other's scores.
Every time I win, I celebrate like I've conquered a nation.
Every time he wins, he acts insufferably humble.
Eventually we find one of those games where you stop a timer at exactly ten seconds and win a giant stuffed animal.
“This one?” I ask.
Dominic hesitates. “That was a fluke.”
I grin knowing what he's talking about. The first time we ever went to an arcade together, there'd been one of these machines.
He'd won on his first try and I walked away with a giant bear.
I fold my hands together, wanting another one. “Please.”
He sighs dramatically before stepping up to the machine.
And loses.
I blink.
He blinks.
“Well,” he says. “That's embarrassing.”
Shrugging it off, he tries again. And loses again. Then I try. Then he tries. Then I try.
At some point, winning stops being about the prize. Now it's about recovering the amount of money we've dumped into this stupid machine. Neither of us is willing to admit defeat.
Three failed attempts later, a bored employee finally ambles over. He watches Dominic fail once more before drawling out bored. “You know that machine's broken, right?”
We both freeze.
“What?”
“Yeah.” He points at it. “Nobody's ever won on that thing.”
I stare at the machine. Then at Dominic. Then back at the machine.
Dominic looks equally perturbed.
The employee shrugs before reaching into a prize bin and pulling out one of the smaller stuffed animals.
“Consolation prize.”
Happy to get something, I immediately accept it and turn to Dominic, holding it against my chest.
“This one is better anyway.”