CHAPTER 11 #2
Dominic glances at it. “Oh. That one.” His tone shifts slightly. “Yeah, I keep that locked because it has patient case files and some controlled prescription records. Hospital compliance rules. If those ever got out, I’d lose my license.” He walks over calmly. “I can grab the key if you want.”
I shake my head. “No need.” I offer a small smile. “I trust you.” My fingers drift to the small key charm hanging from my necklace, absentmindedly turning it between them.
The words feel like a lie the moment they leave my mouth but I need him to believe them. Because the truth will come out eventually and when it does, I want to know everything.
Dominic kisses the top of my head. “Okay, love. I’ll finish getting dressed and we’ll head out.”
I step out of his office and close the door behind me. Downstairs, I pause near the window. Outside, Mrs. Alden our neighbor stands in her yard watering her flowers. I step outside and wave. “Hi, Mrs. Alden!”
She looks up and for a moment her expression softens into something strange.
Almost… sad.
She gives me a small, sympathetic smile.
She looks away without waving back. Confused, I step back inside just as Dominic comes down the stairs.
He looks effortless. A long-collared shirt under a soft sweater, the collar pulled neatly over the neckline.
Brown pants tailored perfectly. His coat draped over one arm.
He rolls his sleeves up slightly. “Just how you like it,” he says with a grin. He leans in and kisses me. His scent wraps around me, clean and warm, bright citrus layered over smooth cedarwood with a deeper smoky note underneath. Familiar. Comforting. He studies my face. “Ready?”
I nod.
He walks me outside, opening the passenger door like he always does. The sky fading into deep violet as the first stars appear. He climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the car.
I glance over. “So,” I ask quietly, “where are we going?”
Dominic smiles.
“Somewhere worthy of that dress.”
We drive for a while.
At first it’s the familiar parts of town, restaurants, traffic lights, the glow of storefront windows passing by in soft streaks of color.
Then the city slowly fades, streetlights grow farther apart, houses turn into long stretches of dark trees and winding roads.
The air outside the car feels cooler here.
Dominic rests one hand on the steering wheel, the other loosely holding mine across the center console.
“So,” he says casually, “we were down two nurses today. Again.”
I glance at him. “Two?”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “Flu season. Half the staff is either sick or pretending to be.”
I laugh softly. “Pretending?”
“Oh yeah,” he says with a grin. “You’d be amazed how many people suddenly develop mysterious fevers on Mondays.”
He squeezes my hand. “But today was… interesting.”
“Oh?”
“We had a guy come into the ER convinced he was dying.”
I turn toward him. “What happened?”
“He googled his symptoms.”
I groan immediately. “Oh no.”
“Chest tightness. Numb fingers. Shortness of breath.”
“That does sound bad.”
Dominic nods. “Except it wasn’t a heart attack.”
“Then what was it?”
He smirks slightly.
“A panic attack… after drinking six energy drinks and pulling an all-nighter playing video games.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
The road curves deeper into the woods, trees grow thicker, darker silhouettes against the fading sky. Dominic lifts my hand gently and presses a kiss to the back of it.
“We’re here,” he says softly.
The car slows and gravel crunches under the tires as he turns into a small clearing.
I look out the window and a cabin sits tucked between the trees.
Large log beams, wide windows glowing with warm golden light from inside, soft fog curls through the surrounding forest like a quiet blanket.
Outside, string lights hang across a wooden porch, casting a soft glow over two wooden chairs and a small fire ring already stacked with logs.
It looks peaceful. Private. Almost unreal. Dominic parks the car and steps out, walking around to open my door. The cool air brushes against my skin as I step onto the gravel. The smell of pine and damp earth fills the air.
I stare at the cabin.
“Dom…”
He leans closer, his voice low near my ear. “I didn’t actually go for a run this afternoon.” I glance at him. “I came up here instead. Had to set all this up.”
“My parents’ cabin,” he says simply.
I blink, looking around again. I knew this place existed.
Dominic had mentioned it once or twice over the years, a cabin somewhere in the mountains but he rarely talked about it and I had never actually seen it, not until now.
The heavy log beams, stone fireplace, the quiet charm tucked into every corner.
It feels like stepping into someone else’s memory.
Dominic moves casually toward the porch. “Spent the last couple days fixing it up,” he says. He gestures around. “Repaired the railing. Replaced a few boards on the deck.”
Inside the cabin, I notice the small details.
The fireplace burning, fresh flowers on the table, string lights glowing softly outside the windows.
But most of the place still carries someone else’s touch.
Soft curtains above the kitchen window, dried lavender hanging near the door.
Little things that feel carefully placed rather than decorated, his mother’s touch.
Dominic had told me once she loved this place.
She’d had him late, forty-one, the surprise child they thought they’d never have.
She died first. His father didn’t last long after. Heart attack, the doctors said but Dominic always believed it was something simpler. His father just couldn’t imagine a world without her. The cabin stayed empty after that. Too many memories inside these walls.
Dominic glances around the room. “Figured it deserved to be used again.” His eyes return to me. “And tonight seemed like a good reason.” My chest warms unexpectedly. Dominic smiles softly. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand. “Let me show you.”
The door opens and warm air wraps around me immediately and the smell hits me.
Salmon. Fresh, buttery salmon with lemon and herbs.
Dominic’s version of the dish he started making after I once said the one we had on vacation tasted like sunshine on a plate.
The scent of roasted garlic, lemon zest, and thyme fills the cabin. My stomach growls softly.
To the left is the kitchen, charming, small, but wide enough for two people to cook without bumping into each other.
Wooden counters glow under soft hanging lights, and the pan on the stove still sizzles faintly, thin slices of lemon resting over the salmon.
Beside it are roasted potatoes, grilled asparagus, and a small bowl of lemon butter.
On the counter sits a bottle of wine. Not just any wine. Chateau Margaux.
The deep red label gleams under the light, one of those bottles most people only see in restaurants behind glass.
I glance at Dominic.
“That’s… not a grocery store bottle.”
He smirks.
“Special occasion.”
To the right is the living space, a large L-shaped couch sits in front of a stone fireplace where soft flames flicker and crackle and no television.
Just the quiet fire and the sound of the woods outside.
The entire living room is surrounded by glass walls, as if the cabin was designed not to hide from the mountains but to sit quietly among them.
Beyond the glass, the mountain rises dark and peaceful against the fading sky. It feels like the kind of place that reminds you screens aren’t the point of life.
This is.
The quiet, the view, the moment.
Something moves outside the window. A small group of deer passes through the clearing, stepping carefully through the grass.
I look back at Dominic. “Why are you doing all this?”
A quiet thought whispers in the back of my mind. Because he feels guilty, because this makes things easier.
Dominic steps closer. “Because sometimes I get so caught up in work… I forget to slow down.” His eyes settle on mine. “And you deserve more than rushed mornings and hospital shifts.” His fingers brush gently along my arm. “You deserve moments like this.”
For a moment I just look at him and then we sit.
Dinner becomes easy after that. The salmon flakes perfectly beneath my fork, bright with lemon and butter.
The wine is smooth and deep, warming my chest with every sip.
We talk, really talk. About stupid things.
The time Dominic locked himself out of the house wearing nothing but gym shorts.
The time we’re at a restaurant and someone offers to take a photo for us, I immediately wave them off like they just asked me to donate a kidney.
Dominic chuckles. “You said cameras steal souls and you weren’t risking it.”
I frown at him. “I don’t remember that day and I don’t remember saying that!”
Stories that make your stomach hurt from laughing. Somewhere between refilling glasses and finishing dinner, the first bottle of wine disappears.
Second, then third.
Dominic stares at the empty bottle and lifts an eyebrow.
“Well,” he says slowly. “That escalated quickly.”
I laugh, a real laugh. So hard I snort halfway through it.
Dominic freezes.
Then bursts out laughing.
“Oh wow,” he says dramatically. “I married a snorter.”
“Shut up,” I groan, covering my face.
He leans closer with a grin.
“Too late. It’s part of your charm now.”
He holds my hand and I laugh again. And suddenly something hits me.
I haven’t laughed like this in years. Maybe I did.
But I can’t remember when. Dominic grows quiet.
He’s watching me now. Something deeper in his eyes.
Warm and soft. Almost apologetic. And for a moment the room falls silent except for the fire cracking softly and the quiet movement of deer outside the glass walls.