Chapter 7 #2
“Ahh. What would be the occasion? Birthday? Promotion?”
She tossed me a skeptical look. “Very funny.”
“I didn’t get that right?”
“It’s Mother’s Day.”
“Oh. I had no idea.”
She grinned. “Anyway. . .J and Oliver wouldn’t tell me how they were able to pay for a private chef and a full cleaning service today. They just kept saying they saved up their money to do it.”
I did my best to keep from laughing. “You must give them quite the allowance.”
“Oliver gets $2 a week for keeping his room clean, setting the table, and other small things. J gets $4 for the dishes, sweeping, etc.”
“So yeah.” I bobbed my head. “Clearly, they can afford the chef and cleaners. The logic sounds right to me.”
“True, but for some crazy reason I think someone else hired them, and you may know who that is.”
“Me?” I touched my chest. “I’m actually shocked about all of this.”
Her eyes narrowed in amusement. “You had no idea about the surprise?”
“None at all.” I shrugged my huge shoulders. “So you’re telling me that after I helped them with their homework this morning and watched some movies in the afternoon. I came downstairs and they just. . .hung out with strangers in the house today?”
Her mouth curved. “Apparently.”
“I apologize for not being more hands-on when watching them.” I did my best to appear ashamed. “A chef, you say?”
“I can’t with you right now.” She laughed and the sound loosened something inside me.
I left the space, moved to my desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out the envelope I’d prepared earlier. The card was thick, cream paper with a gold foil edge—simple, formal, the kind of choice one made when they wanted to honor someone without shouting.
I handed it to her. “By the way, Happy Mother’s Day.”
“So you did remember what day it is?”
“I guess I did.”
She took the card slowly, like it might break. “Dominic, a card? You’ve already done a whole lot.”
“Have I?” It came out softer than I meant.
“Yes. Only you could have gotten my kids in suits. Only you would know how much I wanted the house clean and. . .didn’t want to cook tonight.
Thank you so much. You made my night. No.
You made my year. I was so. . .down and.
. .” She shook her head. “You gave me life. The house looks amazing. The food was incredible. J, Oliver, and I. . .since this separation. . .have never had so much fun.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” I tried to swallow down the warmth rising in my throat. “You deserve it, Teyonah.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”
“You’re an incredible mother.”
“I try.”
“You do more than try.” I stepped closer, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
She didn’t move away. Her teeth caught her bottom lip for half a heartbeat, then let go.
Electricity hummed between us.
“I was thinking. . .” She glanced at the ceiling, then back to me. “This Sunday you should come upstairs for dinner. I want to thank you—”
“I’ll come for dinner, but not because you have to pay me back for today.” I held her gaze. “You already paid me back.”
“How did I do that?”
“I heard you laugh, and I love to hear that. It’s the most beautiful sound.”
Color flared up her throat. “Dominic, for what you’ve done for me you should get more than that.”
My mind flashed images I had to choke down—her naked and beneath me, those curves beneath my hands, the way I would make her come from my tongue.
“Mmm. Maybe, you’re right, Teyonah. Maybe I should get more.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“But. . .we can discuss that later.” I let a smile touch my mouth. “Please open your card.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“I have other things to discuss.”
“Then, let’s do that after the card.”
“Okay.” She slid a finger under the flap and eased it open.
The front was embossed with a single rose stem. Inside, my handwriting filled the left page—gratitude in ink.
On the right, a check peeked out from the fold.
“Umm. . .” She tugged the check free, glanced down at it, and then stiffened. “Dominic, what is this?”
“A little something.”
“It says fifty thousand dollars.”
“I think that will take care of your bills for a while and get you a lawyer outside of town but still in jurisdiction.”
“I can’t take this.” Her hand went rigid; she extended the check back to me like it burned. “What is this. . .your life savings?”
“I grew up very well off, and then my parents left me with so much money that I would never have to work again. This check is nothing to me.”
Her hand stayed out. The check trembled between us. “Yes, but this is your money.”
“Take it.”
“Dominic, if I took this, I would feel like I was taking advantage of you—”
“Why?”
“You don’t need to help me—”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
“Teyonah,” I said, hearing the edge in my own voice, “I know I’m not family or anything, but I do care about you.”
Her eyes lifted, meeting mine with something I’d never let myself hope for. She lowered the hand holding the check but didn’t put it away. “You don’t think you’re family?”
I blinked. “Well. . .”
“I. . .see you as part of the family.” She exhaled, startled by her own confession. “Oliver and J do too. Is that weird?”
I stared at the floor for a beat, collecting myself. “No. . .I want to be part of your family.”
“Then you are, and Dominic. . .” She tried to offer the check again. “Thank you so much for everything, but this is too much. I know it looks like I don’t have it together but I do.”
“You’ve got it together. No one said that, but you need help. Now take the check.” I let my voice drop, sharper than any scalpel. “And I’m not asking you nicely.”
“Dominic—”
“Fold it,” I kept my eyes steady on hers. “Then put it in your pocket. That’s it. We don’t talk about the money again, and don’t even think about paying me back since. . .we’re family.”
Her eyes watered.
She looked at the numbers again, then at me, then back to the check.
A sigh shivered through her.
She folded the check and slid it into her pocket. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” If she knew the size of my accounts, she might pass out.
I could have been living in some sterile mansion with a staff and a gate code. But money couldn’t buy this—the warmth in this basement, the trace of her perfume, the sense that home existed beneath the floorboards of her life.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“Don’t cry.” The sight began to unraveled me.
“I’m sorry. I’m just. . .” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “I was so overwhelmed this week and it seemed like every day was getting worse, and then tonight I stepped into. . .the house and it just all. . .worked out.”
More tears came.
Fuck.
Against all logic, I closed the distance between us and pulled her into my arms.
She came easily. Soft, warm, solid—every line of her fitting against me like my body had been designed with this moment in mind.
Her cheek pressed to my chest. Her scent seeped into my soul.
My hands moved over her back of their own accord, memorizing the slope of her shoulders, the strength in her midline, the curve of her waist.
Beauty.
Touch.
“Thank you,” She lifted her view to meet mine. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” My voice came out rough.
The moment stretched.
Thin.
Bright.
Dangerous.
“But um. . .we should also talk about. . .what happened in the backyard.” She began to pull back.
I didn’t let her leave my hold.
“We should talk about it. In fact. . .this is the explanation.” I lowered my mouth to hers and kissed her so deep she moaned.