Chapter 11 Warm Syrup, Cold Nerves #2
Smirking, J shook his head. “See, Mommy.”
I wagged a finger. “In all fairness, it was so bad. . .it was funny.”
“Whoa. I see I have a tough audience.” Dominic raised his hand. “I’ve got another.”
J covered his face. “Oh no. Not another one.”
Oliver widened his eyes.
Dominic crossed his arms over his chest. “What did the doctor say to the dog?”
We all shrugged.
“You’re looking a little ruff today.”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “Alright. I’m going to have to ask you to stop because this is getting close to child abuse.”
All three of them broke out laughing. J threw his head back, Oliver slapped the table, syrup smeared on his fingers, and Dominic’s grin stretched wide.
My cheeks warmed.
We continued on with more corny jokes and superhero chatter. The joyful sounds filled the kitchen.
Even I laughed—an unguarded, belly-deep laugh I hadn’t felt in months.
It startled me, how good it felt to just enjoy my morning and not have to stress about anything.
For a moment, the world softened.
It wasn’t a busy, dreadful Monday.
It wasn’t my complicated marriage problems.
It was just pancakes and corny jokes and my kids giggling with a man who actually bothered to warm syrup and write Post-its about their school trips.
And that’s when the thought hit me, sharp and dangerous as lust.
Maybe I should just stop fighting this. I want him. He wants me. Fuck being. . .responsible. Right?
Was it time to. . .stop fighting the pull between us?
Stop pretending I didn’t ache for him.
Even though I was still married.
Even though he was younger.
Even though everything about this would be messy as hell.
I looked at him across the table—his big forearms resting casually on the wood, the curve of his smile still lingering from the bad jokes—and my heart did a strange, traitorous flip.
I’d promised myself a thousand times I would be more careful with the next man I gave my heart too.
Yet sitting there, laughing, watching him make my children feel safe and happy, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, Dominic wasn’t a mistake I needed to avoid but a life I hadn’t dared to imagine.
Dominic grabbed my attention. “Teyonah, do you want me to take them to school this morning?”
“Uh. . .I can do it—”
“You’ve got court prep this week. Right? Plus, their school is on my way.” He remembered my workload.
He fucking remembered everything.
Dom shrugged. “And, it gives me an excuse to tell more jokes.”
“Oh no.” J chuckled and began cleaning up the dishes.
“I like Dom’s jokes.” Oliver slid off his chair. “They’re super cool.”
The kids moved fast, rinsing plates and sliding them into the dishwasher like they’d done it a hundred times with him instead of me.
Oliver hummed some superhero theme under his breath, and J corrected his pitch with exaggerated flair.
Their chatter filled the room, but Dominic’s eyes never left mine.
When the boys carried their backpacks to the front door, he leaned closer, keeping his voice low so only I could hear. “I’m taking them to school. That’s final.”
The firmness in his tone made my throat tighten.
I swallowed. “Okay.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes. His words came out slow, deliberate, every syllable thick with erotic promise. “And then later this evening, when you have time. . .we will talk. . .a lot. . .and then we will. . .”
A lustful shudder ran through me, hot and sharp.
I knew exactly what the rest of that sentence would entail and it wasn’t about boundaries or safe conversations.
It was about him licking me up and down, about dirty things whispered against my skin, about the ache between my thighs begging to be fed until I couldn’t deny him anymore.
Dominic headed away, then paused, and frowned at something near the vase of roses.
I followed his gaze.
A small white card leaned against a box of chocolate chip cookies wrapped in cellophane and tied with a pale pink ribbon.
I hadn’t noticed it before.
“I meant to tell you that a mystery person left that box and card in front of the door this morning.” Dominic picked up the card and read the message aloud, “I’m praying for you.”
“What?” I took it from him and turned it over, expecting a signature, a return address, something.
Nothing.
Just those four words in tidy cursive.
My lips curved. “Mrs. Patterson.”
“Most likely.” He laughed softly.
“I’m sure it is.” I set the card back beside the cookies that I was going to definitely throw away. “She probably put this in front of the door right before sunrise.”
Dominic went back to herding the kids out the door, yet I couldn’t help staring at the words again. I’m praying for you.
Was it her kindness or shade?
Was she praying because Scott was finally out of the house—and the whole block knew it?
Or was it because she’d seen too much last night, caught a glimpse of me and Dominic through a curtain, and decided we needed divine intervention?
The mystery sat there on the counter, quiet and smug.
The cookies looked perfect, golden-edged and soft, but my stomach twisted at the thought of tasting one.
I won’t be the next victim.
“Have a good day at work, Teyonah.” Dominic headed out. “Let’s go, you two. Don’t want to be late.”
They gave me quick kisses on my cheeks.
“Coming!” Oliver shouted.
“Bye, Mommy!” J jogged past me and began teasing their brother about something.
Dominic walked them out. “You got your sketchbook, J?”
J patted their bag. “Yep.”
“Oliver,” Dominic grabbed his hand. “This is your big day. Are you ready to tell Ms. Patel the continents?”
“Asia, Africa, North America, South America, Antarctica, Europe, and Astraya,” Oliver rattled.
“Australia,” J corrected.
“No. I do believe it is Astraya.” Oliver shook his head. “Home of kangaroodlers.”
“Kangaroos,” J snorted.
Their laughter followed them through the doorway, softening into the distance as the three of them disappeared.
Silence folded back into the kitchen.
The roses sat bright on the counter.
The smell of butter clung to the air.
I pressed my palm flat against the table, steadying myself.
What should I do?
I had promised myself to be responsible, to resist, to think of all the reasons this was wrong. But my body buzzed with memory, with hunger, with the knowledge that tonight he planned to take me apart piece by piece—and the worst part was, I wanted him to.