Chapter 32
Dominic
My heart squeezes in my chest the second Emily drives through the entrance to a wildlife park an hour out of town.
The last good memory I have of my family, before my life literally imploded, was going to Taronga Western Plains Zoo in Dubbo when I was a kid.
It was the only family holiday I remember us taking.
I would’ve been around six years old at the time, and I got such a kick out of pointing out all the animals to Violet and watching her face light up with amazement. She worshipped the ground I walked on back then, and I felt the same about her. Boy, how times have changed.
“We’re spending the day here?” I ask, glancing over at Emily as I remove my seat belt.
She drove, since she didn’t want to ruin the surprise.
I was hesitant to hand over the keys, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer, which, I’ve got to say, was pretty damn hot.
I’m not used to people standing up to me.
“Not a fan of the zoo?” she asks, side-eyeing me as she kills the engine.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Have you been here before?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“I came here on a school excursion once.”
“You did? What was it like?” I ask.
“Honestly, I loved it, but I was fourteen, so no hating on me if my memory is trash,” Emily says, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder like she’s suddenly self-conscious.
I huff out a laugh. “No promises.”
Her grin is bright, but I can see she’s nervous, like she’s waiting to see whether I’m going to chew her out for bringing us here. I’m not.
My chest might be tight enough to crack ribs, but I’m not running. I may have to face some shit from my past that I’ve tried to bury because they’re too painful to relive, but she was right when she said Lil’ Peach would love it.
I move around the car to collect Peach from her booster seat, while Emily heads to the back to get the stroller.
“You ready to see all the animals, baby girl?” I ask as I reach in and unclick her seat belt.
“Fat Cat,” she replies, clapping her hands.
That spoiled, fat, overfed furry shit was sprawled on the front porch when we exited the house, its sides spilling out like dough left too long to rise.
I lift Peach out of her booster and sink my lips into one of her chubby cheeks. She looks cute, but kind of ridiculous too because she’s wearing her tutu over pink jeans.
It was a compromise Emily negotiated after Peach completely lost her shit when I wouldn’t let her wear her entire ballet outfit.
I don’t usually have a problem with what she wears; most days she picks out her own clothes. As sweet as she looks in her sparkly leotard, though, I wasn’t letting her wear it in public.
The moment I told her no, she threw herself onto the floor like a demon child, thrashed, kicked, and screamed bloody murder.
It was probably the closest I’ve ever come to losing my temper with her.
But then Emily appeared, calm as a storm’s eye and within minutes, the tears were gone, the crisis resolved, and order restored.
It was as if the tantrum had never happened at all.
I carry Lil’ Peach around the back of the vehicle and lower her into the stroller, carefully strapping her in. Emily hangs the bag—stuffed with snacks, wipes, and a complete change of clothes—over the handles before leaning down to slip a hat onto Peach’s head and pass her a sippy cup.
She’s slipped into the role of a mother figure as if it’s always been hers, natural and effortless.
Watching Emily with my little girl does something to me, something I can’t quite explain. It’s no secret I want this woman, but there’s something playing out here. Something tangible.
I can’t stop thinking about what she said to me this morning when I told her it was getting harder and harder to keep my hands to myself.
“Then don’t.”
She said it without hesitation. It took a moment for her words to register. When they did, I leaned in to kiss her neck, just as Lil’ Peach called out from her cot. I’m still not sure if it was divine intervention or shitty fucking timing.
Watching Emily now, so natural, so present, I can’t help but wonder what will happen the next time we find ourselves alone, with no small voice calling us back to reality. My cock aches at the thought; it’s been way too long.
The wildlife park smells like sun-warmed grass and dust, the kind that clings to your shoes and follows you home. The trailer rattles softly as the tractor pulls us along, and Lil’ Peach is perched on Emily’s lap, wide-eyed and utterly captivated by everything moving outside the railings.
“Look at the kangaroo,” Emily announces as she points. “She has a baby joey in her pouch.”
Peach smiles and claps her hands, but this is nothing new to her, we see them a lot when we’re driving on the outskirts of town.
I find myself watching them more than the animals.
Peach leans into her like it’s instinct, as if Emily has always been her safe place.
Emily doesn’t even seem to notice; she adjusts her grip, brushes Peach’s hair out of her eyes, and keeps talking softly as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
An emu struts up alongside the trailer, all attitude and feathers, and Peach squeals. Emily startles, then laughs at herself. A pink hue rises on her cheeks as she glances over at me. “That giant bird is a tad terrifying,” she admits.
I grin but don’t respond. What’s scary is the way I feel for this woman. The attraction and pull have been there from the very beginning, but it’s morphed into something else now, something heavier, something that settles in my chest and refuses to be ignored.
This feels dangerous in a way that the lust never did. Watching her soothe Peach, laugh with her, exist so effortlessly in this space beside us, I catch myself imagining moments that stretch far beyond today. Beyond this trailer ride. Beyond a simple day out.
I want to own this woman, possess her, and keep her with us forever. But does she want that? Is she even looking for another long-term relationship?
At the moment, I’m her safe place, but what happens when she decides she wants more out of life? Or decides she doesn’t want a ready-made family … or me?
I’m used to being pushed aside, but I have a feeling if Emily leaves too, it’s going to wreck me. I try to push the thought away, but it sticks, clinging to the edges of my mind and taunting me. It brings back all the insecurities I carried growing up.
Emily meets my gaze again, and her smile instantly softens, as if she senses the shift.
For a second, the noise fades—the animals, the tractor, and the world around us—and it’s just the two of us, suspended in something that feels too real to name.
Something that feels like more than an obsession and suspiciously like love. At least on my part.
I look away first because I’m suddenly feeling overwhelmed by it all. Am I in love with her?
Fuck, I think I am.
We’re back on foot now, wandering the winding paths. Lil’ Peach skips just ahead of us, a tiny tornado of pure, uncontainable energy.
Emily and I aren’t really talking because I’ve reverted to my usual moody cunt mode, thanks to the clusterfuck currently running rampant in my head.
Still, we manage to keep our eyes on Peach as she darts from display to display, blissfully oblivious to the chaos swirling between the adults walking behind her.
When we round the next corner, we both freeze. A pair of wombats are in the middle of their enclosure, demonstrating the mating process in all its awkward glory.
“Peach!” Emily yelps, lunging forward and covering my niece’s eyes. “Sweet baby Jesus in a wicker basket floating down the river,” she adds in a low voice.
What the fuck did she just say?
Her words and actions do the trick, breaking the tension I’ve created, as I throw my head back and bark out a laugh.
Peach giggles as she tries to wiggle out of Emily’s grasp, but she doesn’t let go; instead, she pulls Lil’ Peach’s body back against her legs, leaving one hand covering her eyes and the other securing her by the waist.
“Emmy,” she whines, thrashing her little body from side to side.
“The wombats are being silly,” Emily says.
I arch an accusing brow. Those furry, round fucks, with stubby little legs, are doing exactly what I want to do to her. I scrub my hands down my face. This woman has me all kinds of messed up.
Emily shoots me a glare that’s half-horrified, half-amused.
“Funny wombats!” Peach declares as Emily finally releases her hold on my niece and buries her own face in her hands. I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head, still laughing.
I push off the fence, bend and scoop Peach into my arms. “How about we grab some lunch?”
“Lunch!” Peach squeals, her little legs kicking with excitement.
“You hungry, mia tortina?” I ask Emily, holding out my free hand to her. There’s no thought behind my movement; it just seems like a natural extension of the moment, like breathing.
Her eyes scan my face for a brief second before she threads her delicate fingers through mine, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.
It’s a simple gesture—harmless, even—but the heat in her gaze, and the electricity behind it, makes it feel anything but. Her hand is small and soft. My fingers curl instinctively, tightening just enough to keep her there.
She swallows and steps a little closer, close enough that her warmth brushes my side. She glances up at me, and the look she gives me is hard to decipher. Is she hungry for food, or me?
I squeeze her hand and start walking. I can fight it, pretend I’ve got a say in where this goes, but that’s a lie I don’t even believe. Whatever this is, it’s already taken hold. And whether this burns out fast or not, for today at least, this woman is mine.