3. Dominic
DOMINIC
I spend the better part of the afternoon talking to my buddy Albert, who’s also my realtor.
There’s just one part of my dream to help veterans experiencing homelessness that’s not coming together, and that’s one very stubborn homeowner holding onto the perfect property for the tiny houses project.
Technically, it’s not for sale, although it had been at one point.
I’ve been pushing hard, but they haven’t countered any of my offers, and the reply is always an immediate, succinct no with no further explanation.
Albert thinks I ought to write a personal letter to the homeowner explaining what I intend to do with the giant property, but I counter my own offer with an additional ten thousand instead. Maybe that’ll get his attention.
My morning was packed with patients, and I had to put one on an involuntary psych hold at a local hospital.
It hadn’t gone over well with his family.
Now, I have to wrap up my notes and get to my sister Gwen’s for dinner.
She’s got a juicy filet on the grill I can’t wait to devour, so I ask my receptionist to file the patient folders and lock up.
“Sure thang, Mr. Davis.” She smiles as she takes the stack of files from me and turns toward the big metal cabinet.
As I finally get out my front door to the lot, the woman from the bakery next door stops me with a “Yoohoo!” and a smile.
I know I’m a bachelor in a small town, but she hasn’t seemed to get the picture yet that I’m not interested.
She’s sweet to send so many goodies home with me, but that’s as far as this will go.
“Please do take these off my hands, Dominic,” she drawls in her full accent as she hands off a basket of muffins and assorted small loaves of bread. “Where you off to tonight?”
“Family gathering at my sister’s. Thank you.” I take the basket and tell her, “I’m sorry. I’m already late to her place, so I have to run. See you soon.” There’s nothing wrong with the petite shop owner other than she’s a few years my senior and not quite my type.
Heaven knows, I have my sights set on one woman alone—the same woman who’s had my card for two weeks now and has yet to call. I’m truly flummoxed she hasn’t even texted, because I thought we’d had great chemistry at my veteran’s benefit. Not to mention a hell of a good time.
Frankly, I’m stunned that I don’t know her from around town.
Sure, she lives on the other side of it, and I’ve only been settled down in this small town for the last couple of years, but I’d remember if we’d crossed paths.
She’s too beautiful not to notice. Este looked oddly familiar when I spotted her at the registration booth, and the one thing I felt immediately was that I had to know her.
Gwen calls me when I’m three blocks from her house, and I hit the answer button long enough to tell her I’m a stone’s throw away. Then, I round the back where Gwen is at the grill, loading steaks onto a serving platter. The kids are all running around playing a rip-roaring game of tag.
“Suck it!” Danielle practically screams as she darts away from the boy-next-door, her older sister’s crush, Knox. She runs to the tree line and climbs a tree masterfully while Amelia, the oldest, yells, “That’s not fair! You’re breaking the rules!”
Knox, the golden-haired neighbor boy in desperate need of a haircut, hoists the youngest, Charlotte, whom we refer to as Charlie, onto his shoulders.
“Tag! You’re it!” Charlie shouts as she tags Danielle. He sets her down. “Uncle Dominic!” She races over to me and jumps into my arms. I catch her tiny eight-year-old body and spin her around as she giggles.
“Get your booties over here,” Gwen calls loudly to all the kids, waving both arms from the edge of the covered patio. She doles out steaks onto plates as I carry Charlie over and dump her into her seat.
“Hey, sis,” I grin, giving her a quick squeeze. “The filet looks amazing. I figured the filets were for the adults, and we’d have some brats for the kids.”
“Nah, got a deal on the big pack from the butcher this week, so we’ll all have them,” Gwen tells me. She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you losing weight?”
“I ate my weight in burnt ends for lunch. Don’t go worrying about me, Gwennie. I’ve just been adding some salad to all the protein.” I flex my biceps, and she rolls her eyes as she shakes her head in probable disgust the way only a sister can.
“You’re shameless. Too proud of your damn muscles. Ew.”
Everyone finds their seats. Knox respectfully asks how my day was, and in return, I ask how his school week has been treating him.
I attempt to be respectful of Gwen trying to include him in the family, rather than telling her all the impure thoughts he’s probably having about my too-young niece Amelia.
They might be thoughts now, but thoughts lead to actions, and that makes my hands nearly curl into fists.
Okay, maybe I’m a little overprotective.
“How’d you do on your standardized test?” I ask my thirteen-year-old niece, Dani.
“Killed it dead,” Dani singsongs as she stabs a piece of filet and shoves it in her mouth unceremoniously. She’s the most girly out of all three of them, but she’s not much for manners, and Gwen doesn’t push it beyond the usual “sir” and “ma’am.”
When she chews with her mouth open, Gwen tells her, “You close that big mouth, Danielle. We aren’t eatin’ see -food.”
Dani rolls her eyes and scrunches up her face. “Thanks, Mom. I’ve never heard that one before. So original.”
“Heard from Mom and Dad?” I ask Gwen.
“They’re still at their Austin house. Daddy’s had a long few weeks with that double-murder trial.”
Our father is a judge in Austin after a long career as a criminal defense lawyer.
Mom is a crafter and a librarian, and she gets involved in politics only to fight the local book bans that have been happening more frequently in Texas lately.
A book ain’t never held a gun to anybody’s head, she likes to say.
“That guy’s guilty. Can’t believe they had a hung jury last time.” I grind my jaw. We chat about the case, which is terribly unfair and frustrating.
That’s when Gwen adds, “Despite the unfairness, you all know what I’m going to say.”
“Good outweighs evil,” her three daughters chant together.
I wish I could say I always agree with her optimistic sentiment. Not that I’m living on anything less than goodwill and sacrifice. I’m grateful for every day I’m alive.
After dinner, I force Charlie to clean her room while folding her clean clothes and then making her bed. Out of all the kids, she gives Gwen the hardest time keeping her room clean. That had once been me, too. Looking back, I regret the hard time I gave my sweet mother.
Dani peeks her head into the room. “Why do you help her clean and not me?”
“Oh, come on. Aside from an assortment of half-drunk water bottles, you could eat off your floors and surfaces,” I tell her.
“Fine.” Dani relents. “I’m taking the first shower.”
“No! It’s my turn!” Charlie yells at her, putting her furious fists on her hips and glaring at her older sister.
“Fine. Don’t cry about it, little baby.” Dani taunts Charlie, and I heave a sigh. They’re great girls, but things between the younger two sometimes get explosive.
I’ve always wanted kids, but the right situation never materialized.
Gwen got pregnant while on birth control twice and with an IUD the third time, so someone upstairs must have wanted to send these girls to her and the piece of shit she once called her husband.
Just the thought of him makes my blood boil.
“Be kind,” I beg, putting Charlie’s laundry into her little white mirrored dresser. “Go,” I tell Charlie.
I head out to the living room and join Knox and Amelia in a violent video game, aiming to kill zombies.
“Ugh, you’re so much better at this than I am,” Amelia grumbles as I slay a room full of them and save her character’s life no less than five times in ten minutes. “You have real-life experience!”
“Not with zombies.” I chuckle as I change my weapon and blast a zombie that descends out of nowhere.
“Zombies probably would have been easier,” Knox says lowly, and Amelia doesn’t hear, but I lift my eyes from the screen long enough to glance at him and raise my eyebrows in the affirmative.
Gwen serves us all homemade banana cream pie at eight p.m. I have no idea how she does it—works full time at the local insurance office, which requires daytime travel, raises three girls, and makes desserts from scratch. I know one thing: I admire the hell out of her.
It makes me think about Este and wonder if all is well at home. Sending a little hope into the sky on her behalf, I beg the universe to convince her that calling me is a good idea.
Something tells me Este and I could be the best idea I’ve had in my whole life, and I won’t let chemistry like ours go so easily.