Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Gal?o
Celeste
My hands shake a little as I run them over my black velvet dress.
It’s a mock turtleneck dress fitted with long sleeves to keep warm in the brisk winter-like evening.
As I look in my full-length mirror in my room, I take note of the hemline hitting mid-thigh and the tight velvet that hugs every curve.
It’s sexy but holds something back. Maybe that’s why I picked it.
I want Dominic. My body’s reactivity to him has made that abundantly clear, but there’s this small kernel of doubt I can’t shake loose.
Dominic isn’t the pour-your-heart-out kind of guy.
He’s sarcastic, pushes my buttons at every opportunity, and makes me feel more like myself than I have in a long time.
More than just a medical research hopeful.
More than a support system for my mom. More than a damsel in distress.
I’m just his friend Celeste, and that’s okay.
He wants more though. If I’m finally being honest with myself, I know I do too.
But I’m scared. Scared that all the other things in my life other than just me, will be too much for him.
So The List is bullshit. Sure. But it wasn’t all wrong.
My intention was never to create a fictional man that no real boyfriend could live up to.
I just wanted standards. I wanted better than what my mom had in a partner.
I don’t think anyone could argue against that point but I see where I went wrong.
Maybe the way I approached this was too clinical, using my head instead of my heart.
Dominic was right in front of me this whole time and I dismissed him like a controlled variable.
When really, as soon as we met, the whole experiment should have gone out the window.
My feelings have been there too, whether I shoved them down deep into a crevice in the back of my mind or not, they’ve been there.
Tonight, I will finally tell him. One final moment of honesty.
I fix my ponytail one more time, letting a few front pieces curl delicately against my neck.
I’m nervous. Obviously. I turn from the mirror, wanting to get this frenetic energy out of my body somehow and frustrated at my lack of movement.
I almost trip making my way down the stairs.
Mom looks up from her typical cozy spot on her chair, playing Scrabble with herself.
“Mom, I’m not leaving for good. I can play when I get home.” I chuckle.
She raises an eyebrow at me. “Oh? You’ll be back home tonight after your date with Dominic?” She poses it as a question but her tone is slightly sarcastic making me wary of what she’s implying.
“Should I not come back home?” I ask incredulously.
“Honey.” She leans forward as if letting me in on a secret.
“This is your big we-both-love-each-other-grand-gesture-fireworks moment. Let the romance be romantic.” She leans back and grabs a book off the coffee table and begins skimming as I’m left reeling.
“Besides, you’re two consenting adults and one of you has their own apartment,” she adds without looking up from her book.
“Mother!” I yell, not sure if I should laugh or chastise her.
“Are you …no, never mind I don’t want to continue this conversation.
I’ll let you know when I’ll be home later.
I don’t even know what we’re doing, probably just grabbing coffee or some ice cream,” I say dismissively, snagging my purse and throwing on low wedge boots.
“Pretty sexy outfit for ice cream!” I hear my mom call out just as I close the front door behind me.
I make it to Biblio & Brew in record time, my anxiety having taken the wheel.
I click the lock button for my car and turn towards where it all began.
It looks closed…? I notice all the lights are off inside and the front door has a closed sign flicked on, but when I pull the handle, the door swings open for me.
“Peggy?” I call out half-heartedly into the silent cafe bookstore. The coffee counter towards the back of the space is shrouded in darkness and I can’t make out Dominic in any of the spaces around the book stacks.
“Dominic?!” I call, a little hysteria creeping into my voice.
This is the start of a horror movie.
I briefly think about turning tail and running for my life to my car when I hear Dominic call out.
“Can’t you see in the dark, Hoot? Literally all owls have good night vision.”
I roll my eyes but chuckle despite myself as I make my way towards his voice, somewhere near the coffee bar but perhaps around the corner.
A snarky retort is on the tip of my tongue when I turn the corner and freeze, the smile dropping from my face and replaced by my jaw hanging onto the floor. Or it would if there was any room.
All around me are candles, strewn across the floor, carefully resting on the bookshelves, and adorning a beautifully decorated table set for two.
Dominic is there, leaning against the bookshelf beside the table, his tall figure framed in the soft glow.
I still can’t move from my shock and appreciation of this gesture.
He moves before I do, slowly making his way to where I stand, my feet cemented to the spot.
A small smile curves his lips as he comes to stand in front of me. With his body this close I tilt my head to look up at his face.
“You look beautiful, Celeste.” His voice comes out gravely as he looks at me like I’m an oasis in a desert. I have to look away, the intensity of his stare too much.
“Thank you, it’s just a dress,” I mumble, biting my lip to stop from anxiously word-vomiting all over him.
His soft smile turns feral, devilish. “My favourite colour. Which I appreciate, but I wasn’t talking about the dress.”
A blush quickly heats my cheeks. I take a quick steadying breath and look over his frame. “You look pretty good yourself, Peggy. Though I may miss the way your apron fits so snugly on you,” I say, schooling my attraction with a joke, but in all honesty he looks…irresistible.
He’s wearing his typical all black attire, but upgraded to a fitted pair of slacks that hug his muscular thighs. His tucked in black button down accentuates his tapered waist and wide shoulders. With his sleeves rolled up I take a moment to appreciate his tattooed forearms and strong hands.
He tentatively extends a palm up to me in offering, a playful gleam in his eye.
His happiness soothes my anxiety and I put my hand in his as he leads us to our table.
He pulls out my chair and tucks me in as I sit, his fingertips grazing my shoulders ever so slightly.
As he settles in, I take in the feast before me.
“May I take you on a tour of flavour?” Dominic asks with a bemused raised eyebrow.
“Please, my palate is patiently waiting.” I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table as he gestures to a plate of cured meats and fruits.
“Antipasti,” he begins, then gestures to another plate. “Bruschetta.” He gestures to the last plate, a pasta dish. “Ossola styled gnocchi with a sage butter sauce.” A tone of pride exudes from his voice as he labels each dish. I sit back, a little astonished at the decadency at my fingertips.
“Dom, this is amazing. Y-you made all this? For me?” I ask incredulously, feeling a light flutter in my belly.
His gaze lowers to the table as he smiles shyly.
“Right down to the last gnocchi.” His eyes trail slowly up to meet mine, and for the first time I see all his walls crumbling away.
He’s showing me not just a new side to him, but that all the sides are blown to smithereens.
No judgments or hiding behind sarcastic comments, just Dominic, showing me exactly how he feels through his cooking.
“I’m speechless Dom. May I start before it gets cold?
I can’t wait to taste it,” I say, proud of his effort no matter the palate.
He gestures for me to begin before adding to his own plate.
I copy his movements. I sink my fork into a delicate and fluffy piece of gnocchi.
Flavour bursts across my tongue. Sage, chestnut, and nutmeg flood my senses.
I close my eyes and savour every bite. It’s one bite, I’m aware, but my God, wars have been started over less.
“I didn’t put you to sleep already did I, Hoot?” he asks in a calm and soothing tone so jarring compared to his regular rough-edged mocking that my eyes pop open.
I smile at his expression and cover my still chewing mouth with my hand.
“Just relishing in this flavour. Gnocchi-ding–this is the best food I’ve ever had.
” I elongate the “no-kidding” pun to really deliver my dad level jokes.
He smiles at my terrible pun, the edges of his mouth pulled so high the happiness reaches his eyes.
It’s his best smile yet and I reach out over our small cafe-made-dinner-table and rest my hand lightly on his cheek needing to physically feel his happiness.
“I have to confess something,” I say, my hand still on his cheek, my gut threatening to spill out the butterflies that won’t settle. I feel my pulse radiate from my heart down into my palm and I’m positive he can feel it.
“Me first,” he interjects, laying his hand over top of mine.
He turns his head into my palm without breaking eye contact and lays a small and too-brief kiss there.
Sparks spread throughout my chest, into my veins, sending a zing of giddiness right down to my toes.
He pulls my hand in his, resting it atop the table and I relish in the warmth still radiating from his touch.
He takes a deep inhale and slowly releases the breath as he looks directly into my eyes, his thumb absentmindedly sweeping across the back of my hand. I smile at the small gesture.