Chapter 19
Dominic
By the time I unload the car, put all the perishable groceries away, and go in search of my niece and Emily, I find them still in Peach’s room. Emily sits in the oversized white rocking chair, Peach curled up on her lap, sound asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling with each gentle breath.
The book is still open, and I don’t even have to look down to know which one it is—Lil’ Peach’s favourite story. I’ve read that fucking thing so many times I know it word for word.
Emily rocks slowly, reading softly even though her audience has drifted off.
I can’t help but watch them, momentarily struck by the quiet tenderness of seeing them together like this.
The way Emily holds her, how Peach trusts her so completely already, and the warmth that fills the room even in my absence.
This is what my little girl needs, what she’s been missing. A mother figure in her life. But I’d never ask that of Emily. We don’t even know how long she’s going to stick around, and the thought of relying on her for anything more than this fleeting tenderness feels impossible.
I thought bringing Emily to my home was for the best, but now I’m not so sure.
She fits so perfectly, like she was always meant to be here.
This is only temporary for her, and I don’t want to do anything that’s going to crush Lil’ Peach’s heart, not again.
She was devastated when Mrs B went into full-time care.
Even though we still visit her often, it’s not the same. Our neighbour was only a part-time carer, but Emily will be living with us. Why am I only just realising now how complicated this could get?
“She’s asleep,” I murmur, sounding more annoyed than I should.
The truth is, I like seeing them both together; it’s the fallout that could come from it that worries me.
“I know,” she whispers, gently closing the book. “I wasn’t sure what to do with her.”
“I’ll put her down for her nap.”
I take a tentative step towards them. I’m not sure how I’m going to lift Peach without touching Emily.
She extends her hand to me, the one holding the book. “Do you want her in the cot? I can put her in there.”
“Yeah,” I grunt as I take the book, watching as she cradles Peach in her arms and uses the strength in her legs to push herself to her feet.
She carries her towards the cot like she’s holding a priceless treasure. Leaning over the rail, she gently places my niece down on the mattress before glancing at me over her shoulder.
“Should I take her shoes off?”
I nod once and turn to leave because I’ve seen enough. My head is all over the place, and she’s only been inside my home for a matter of minutes.
Heading straight for the kitchen, I set about unpacking the rest of the groceries. There are things in here I’ve never bought before, and I’m not entirely sure where I should put them.
I’m closing drawers and cupboards with a little more force than usual, and the last thing I want to do is wake Lil’ Peach, but there’s so much chaos running rampant inside me, I need to release some of it before I self-combust.
Grabbing the carton of eggs, I spin, stalking towards the fridge, and that’s when I notice Emily standing at the threshold of the kitchen watching me. Those fucking sky-blue eyes of hers look so lost that it has me pausing mid-stride.
Something in my chest gives out, an abrupt guilty twist, because no matter how hard I try to stay angry, seeing her like that always hollows me out. I’ve been so fixated on what I’m feeling that I forgot to consider everything she’s carrying.
She has walked away from the man she once loved, and maybe still does. Who knows. I fucking hope that’s not the case, but if it is, she can’t exactly go back to him. She just doesn’t know that yet.
This woman abandoned her home, leaving every part of her old life behind, and stepped into a future that must feel a lot like she’s free-falling.
“Your furniture should be here soon,” I say. “When I’m done in here, I’ll get my shit out of the spare room to make space for it.”
Her fingers knot together in front of her. “Can I help with something?”
“No,” I grumble, then let out a long, frustrated breath when her face falls.
“Sure … if you want.” I’m not used to sharing my space with others.
I’m accustomed to having Lil’ Peach here, but even that took some adjusting to in the beginning.
Sliding the egg carton into the fridge, I move back to the brown paper bags lined up on the countertop and pull out two boxes of cereal.
“These go in that cupboard over there,” I say, holding them out to her and flicking my chin towards where I want them.
“I’ll give you a tour of the layout when we’re done.
This is your home for however long you decide to stay, so I want you to be comfortable. ”
When I turn back to the bags, I feel her hand come to rest on my upper arm.
It’s light, hesitant, but it still hits like a jolt.
“Thank you for letting me stay here, Dom. I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as I can.
I’m going to ask for some extra shifts at La Riviera so I can save enough to either get my own place, or I might even consider moving back to Queensland. ”
My stomach drops. “Queensland?”
“Yes, that’s where my mum and her handsy husband live. I know she’s already turned my old bedroom into her craft room, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I returned until I get back on my feet.”
My muscles coil tight, and my spine locks up. I’m not sure if it’s the thought of her leaving the state, or if it’s the comment about her mother’s handsy husband.
“Your stepfather touches you?” My words rip out of me, sharp and furious, as something ugly surges inside.
“Umm … not sexually,” she says quickly as her eyes drop to the floor, “but enough to make me feel uncomfortable.”
“And what does your mother think about that?”
I glance over and catch the way she winces before she answers. “I mentioned it once, kind of in passing, and she accused me of trying to sabotage her happiness.”
My teeth grind together. “Then you’re not going back there. If it comes to it, I’ll pay for you to get your own place, but I’m not letting you set foot in that house again. I won’t stand for that shit.”
Her head rears back in shock. “You can’t stop me from seeing my mother, Dominic,” she bites.
“I never said that.”
“You kind of did.”
“I won’t let you go there alone, Emily.”
Her pretty blue eyes narrow, and I like this feisty side of her. “You won’t let me?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Actually, I don’t.”
“If that handsy fucker is going to be there, then I’ll be there, too.”
“To do what?” she asks.
“Make sure he keeps his hands to himself.”
“And if he touches me?”
“Then he and I are going to have a problem.”
She gasps, turning her face just enough that I can’t read it.
Her lips part, close, and then part again, like she’s fighting with herself, trying to decide whether to snap, and fuck I hope she does.
I think sassy Emily is going to become one of my favourite looks on her, but then her shoulders sag, and all she manages is a quiet, “Can we change the subject?”
I’m left feeling disappointed, more at the situation than at her. Her gentle nature is what drew me in from the first day we met, but there’s a point where gentle slips into unguarded.
She doesn’t deserve to be walked over by anyone, least of all the people who claim to love her.
If she’s going to stand her ground in this world, she’s going to need someone to show her how. Someone to remind her that softness doesn’t mean surrender.
“Fine by me,” I deadpan. That topic of conversation was pissing me off anyway.
I reach back into the bag and start pulling out the fruit. I usually stick to the basics—apples and bananas—but Emily went rogue. She tossed in mangoes, grapes, watermelon, and enough vegetables to stock a small farm.
She even grabbed a bag of frozen raspberries and blueberries from the freezer aisle, asking Peach if she liked pancakes.
My niece’s eyes went wide at the mere mention, and a mischievous grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.
I have a feeling this little girl is going to get spoiled rotten with Emily living under our roof.
“How long does Peach nap during the day?” she asks, opening the fridge and unloading my hands without prompting.
“An hour; if I’m lucky, two.”
“If you’re lucky?”
“A grumpy Lil’ Peach,” I mutter, “is … well … let’s just say those little horns come out, her patience disappears, and suddenly I’m negotiating with a kid who could cry for something as simple as the air touching her.”
A small grin tugs at the corners of Emily’s lips as she slides open the vegetable crisper, her dainty fingers brushing the edge of the drawer as she does. “That bad, huh?”
“Sometimes,” I reply with a chuckle. “Why do you ask?”
“I just want to have some lunch ready for her when she wakes.”
“I don’t expect you to wait on her … on either of us while you’re living here, Em.”
“I know,” she replies, shrugging one shoulder. “But you’ve already bought me a bed, and we haven’t even discussed rent yet.”
“You don’t have to pay rent,” I grumble. “I own this house.”
“I have to contribute something, I’m not a freeloader.”
“Nobody claimed you were.”
“I want to pull my weight.”
There is no way I’m taking money off her for rent, utilities, or food, for that matter, but I’ll save that battle for another day. She’s been in my house for an hour tops, so I’m not about to pick a fight with her right now.
“It’ll be nice to have someone here who can cook,” I admit.
“I don’t have Lucia’s or Massimo’s skills,” she admits, giving me a sheepish look. “But my food’s edible.”
“Good to know,” I reply with a chuckle.
“I’m a pretty decent baker, though.”
I arch an eyebrow. “What kind of things do you bake?”
“Cookies, cakes … that type of thing.”