Chapter 30
Emily
This morning, after breakfast, the three of us piled into the car. Peach jabbered happily in the back seat, while I tried not to laugh at Dominic’s grumbling.
I’m not sure if his grouchiness is due to lack of sleep from Babooshka or because we’re heading to the shops.
He decided out of the blue that his niece’s cot was suddenly too small for her.
I agree, but I never voiced that out loud.
So we are heading to the furniture store to buy her a big girl bed.
He did mention asking Lucia to order one online, but I was the one who suggested it would be nice if Peach got to pick her own.
We arrive at the store, and Dominic immediately scoops Peach into his arms, holding her snug against his chest as we navigate through the aisles. She’s happily pointing at things and chattering nonstop, while Dominic grumbles under his breath about the size of this place.
When we finally reach the section where the kids’ beds are set up, Peach’s little legs kick out as she practically squirms her way out of Dominic’s arms and runs straight to a bed that looks made for her. It’s pink, of course, with a frilly canopy draped over the wooden frame.
“You like this one?” I ask, and she nods enthusiastically before trying to climb onto it.
Dominic steps forward to help her the rest of the way, but instead of lying down, she starts bouncing on it like it’s a trampoline and giggling uncontrollably.
I can’t help smiling, while Dominic looks like he’s trying not to laugh, with his arms out ready to catch her if she falls. This cute, pint-sized human has him wrapped around her little finger, and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of seeing them together.
She brings out a softer side of him, a side that calls to me in ways I don’t know how to handle.
I like this man, I really do, but he confuses the hell out of me.
The night he touched me in the kitchen, it gave me the impression he felt the same insane attraction I did.
But the next day, instead of hoping it would lead to something more, we just slipped back into the friend zone, or whatever the hell we are.
Last night I even tried to recreate it, by myself, of course, but my fingers couldn’t do his calloused ones justice. In the end, I gave up, feeling completely underwhelmed.
Right now, I’m standing back and watching him watch her, and how completely devoted he is to her little world.
He’s now holding one of her tiny hands, and it’s bittersweet and endearing all at once.
I want him to hold my hand too—just like he did this morning when he led me to his room—and pull me into the fold so I’m not left feeling like I’m on the outside looking in.
I want this family of two to become a family of three.
I want to be a part of this. I want to belong to them.
The biggest smile is lighting up Lil’ Peach’s face as her attention turns towards me. “Come, Emmy,” she squeals, holding out her free hand.
I don’t hesitate; I step forward and wrap her fingers in mine as my gaze moves up to lock with Dominic’s.
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, everything else falls away. The store, the beds, the sound of Peach’s laughter, even the other shoppers, all disappear.
The air between us feels electric, heavy with something unspoken, and my heart hammers so hard I can feel it in my throat.
He’s looking at me like he can see right through to my soul, like he knows exactly what I’m wishing for, but isn’t sure if he’s capable of giving it.
The moment breaks when a sales assistant approaches. A smile curves her lips as her eyes land on me. “What a beautiful little family you have,” she says.
I part my lips, ready to correct her, but when Dominic glances from me to her and lets out a low grunt, the words die on my tongue.
After ordering the bed, mattress, and new bedding, we head to the grocery store to stock up on supplies.
Dominic grabs the trolley and leads the way, while Peach reaches for my hand and skips happily beside me as we follow him through the store.
Sometimes, I get caught off guard by how naturally he takes charge and how completely at ease he is in his own skin.
We take our usual route, starting with the fruit and veg, then the deli and meat section before making our way down the aisles for the non-perishables.
The pet food aisle is one we usually avoid, so I pause for a moment when Dominic steers the trolley that way. “Is there a reason we’re going down here?” I ask, trying to hide the smile tugging at my mouth.
“If that fat little fuck is going to keep hanging around, I guess it won’t hurt to have some food on hand. His days are numbered anyway. It’s only a matter of time before his heart or his legs give out.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say,” I shriek, poking his side.
A deep chuckle rumbles in the back of his throat. “Just stating the obvious, mia tortina.”
He keeps calling me that, but I have no idea what it means. If I ever return to La Riviera, I’m going to ask Massimo to translate it for me.
I stop at the collar display, picking up a blue one with a tiny bell. When it tings in my hand, Lil’ Peach reaches up for it, opening and closing her chubby little hands.
I pass it to her. “The bell is to warn the birds in the trees that there’s a cat around,” I tell her.
Dominic barks out a laugh. “I bet it’s been years since that beach ball on legs was able to climb anything.
The only tree he’s getting up these days is a Christmas tree, and that’s only going to be possible if it falls on top of him.
” Peach shakes the bell again, delighted, and Dominic points at her.
“See, she gets it. This isn’t a warning for birds.
It’s so we can hear him coming before he accidentally rolls onto one of our feet and breaks a toe. ”
“You’re so mean. What did he ever do to you?”
“He disturbed my sleep,” he deadpans as he continues moving, but I can’t hide my smile when Peach reaches up and puts the collar in the cart, and Dominic doesn’t protest.
By the time we make it to the register, we have tins of cat food, treats, a few toys, and the collar. Dominic even added a few things of his own. I think he likes Babooshka more than he’s prepared to admit.
The old lady ahead of us unloads her small pile of groceries, each item sliding across the scanner with a soft beep. She doesn’t have much, just the basics: bread, milk, a packet of biscuits, two bananas, and a few cans of soup.
When the cashier tells her the total, she winces and starts rummaging through her flimsy reusable bag, pulling items out one by one.
“How much will it be if you take this off?” she asks, holding up a tin of soup she clearly needs.
My stomach twists, but before I can even open my mouth, Dominic reaches into his pocket, steps forward, and calmly taps his card against the machine. He strolls back to Peach and me like he didn’t just do the sweetest, most heart-melting thing in the world.
The old lady turns, startled by him at first. I hate how he’s constantly judged for his appearance.
People see the tattoos, the scars, the size of him, and they decide who he is before he even opens his mouth.
Underneath all that brute, he’s a beautifully misunderstood man who would give you the world if you’d let him.
Her eyes well up the moment she realises what he’s done, and mine sting right along with hers.
She mouths a shaky, “Thank you,” then clutches her groceries as if they’ve suddenly become precious.
Dominic gives her a slight nod and looks away, acting like it had nothing to do with him, and somehow, that makes my chest ache even more.
This man.
“I’m going to be gone most of the day,” Dominic says over breakfast. “I have shit to do. Will Lil’ Peach be okay to stay here with you?”
“Of course. I might give Lucia a call and see if she wants to do something. I’m starting to go a little stir-crazy being cooped up inside all the time.”
“You are?” he asks, frowning.
“It’s pretty sad when the highlight of your week is grocery shopping,” I answer.
He grimaces. “Organise something tomorrow, and I’ll take you wherever you want. Just the three of us.”
The three of us.
“Wherever I want?” I repeat.
He grunts, and I roll my lips to hide my smile. He’s trying to play it cool, but I swear I can see the exact moment he realises he’s given me far too much power.
“Wherever, just no stupid shit. Like …” He gestures vaguely with his fork. “No yoga. No painting, pottery, or dragging me to some place that sells crystals and promises to fix my aura. My aura is absolutely fine.”
“Is it though?”
“Yes,” he growls, and this time, I can’t hide the smile that curves my lips.
“We could get mani-pedis or a couple’s facial.”
He rears back slightly. “A couple’s facial?”
Heat rises to my cheeks. I was teasing, I didn’t mean to imply we were anything more than friends, even if I wish with every fibre of my body.
Constantly seeing a side of him that he hides from the rest of the world, or watching him come in from the garage, shirtless and sweaty, or seeing how doting he is with Peach, is slowly dismantling every wall I have.
It’s like living with a beautiful disaster I can’t help but be drawn to. As if every quiet, ordinary moment makes it harder to pretend I’m not completely tangled up in him.
“You know what I mean.”
“Actually, I don’t. I also have no idea what a mani-pedi is, but it’s a big fucking no to them both.”
I let out a small laugh. “I promise to organise something manly and cool.”
“I want you to organise something you’d like to do, Em, within reason, of course.”
“Of course,” I reply, giving him a cheeky wink as I grasp my plate and go to rise from the table.
He reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulls out his wallet, and slides his credit card across the table to me.
“What’s that for?” I ask, pinching my brows together.
“In case you do something with Lucia today. You’re going to need money.”
“I have those wads of hundreds you keep leaving in my room,” I say. “I’m thankful our relationship is platonic; otherwise, I’d worry it was payment for services rendered.”
It’s become this sick little game between us. He leaves me far too much money every time I look after Peach. I started leaving it on the table, or on the countertop in the kitchen, but he’d sneak it back into my room the first chance he got.
I’m going to have to get more creative in the future.
“I’ve never paid for sex in my life, Emily, and I’d never insult you like that.
” He scrubs his hand over his mouth as he leans back in his chair, his eyes flicking over me in a way that makes breathing feel like work.
“Besides, I think all the orgasms I’d be able to give you would be payment enough. ”
My heart stutters so violently I’m surprised the plate I’m holding doesn’t slip from my hands.
I open my mouth, close it, then open it again, because apparently I’ve forgotten how to function as a human being.
Heat rushes up my neck and into my cheeks.
He said it so casually, like he was talking about the weather and not detonating my entire nervous system.
He shakes his head, picks up his fork, and chuckles, returning to his breakfast.
I spin on my heels and flee the room, desperate to escape before I do something mortifying, like drop to my knees and beg for every one of those orgasms and anything else he’s willing to give.