Chapter Twenty-One
“Fuck, fuck,” I mutter under my breath, storming out of the bar before I get tackled by thirty soldiers.
“Benny! Benny!”
Even if I didn't recognize his voice, I'd recognize the stupid nickname.
“Will you wait?”
I ignore him continuing to get the hell out of there.
Unfortunately, Dominic Mitchell has always been faster than me.
He darts in front of me, forcing me to stop before I walk straight into him.
“What do you want?”
“You’re acting like you just got slapped.”
I groan.
“I'm sorry about that,” I mutter. “I don't condone violence and I honestly don't know what came over me.”
“It's fine.” He smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It was more like a feather hitting my face anyway.”
I make a face. I'm glad it didn't hurt. I'm also annoyed it didn't.
“Well, I'm still sorry.”
Moving around him, I try once more to leave. Sadly, he has other plans.
“Benny.”
The nickname makes me stop. Slowly I turn around.
“We could talk.”
“About what?”
“I've missed you.”
I laugh. Because if someone had asked me how I'd react to seeing Dominic Mitchell after fifteen years, I'd have said we'd act like acquaintances. Ask about each other’s lives then never see each other again.
Instead all I feel is anger.
When he dumped me all those years ago, I'd been too heartbroken to get angry. Then I never saw him again. I never got the dramatic movie moment where I threw his clothes out a window or set them on fire.
Apparently my subconscious had been saving all that rage for today.
Slapping him had felt nice.
Which is concerning.
I'm a firm believer that if you raise a hand, you should be prepared to get hit back.
And I know Dominic would never hit me.
So it feels cheap. Like I got away with something. And now that we're standing under an actual light, I can see a red mark starting to bloom on his cheek.
Feather, my ass.
“You're smiling,” he remarks with a smirk. “Is that a good sign?”
My smile immediately disappears. “What do you want, Dominic?”
His expression softens. He bites his lip and glances over my shoulder before meeting my eyes again.
“I've been thinking about you.”
I open my mouth, then close it again.
“Then I heard your voice and it was like...” He laughs quietly. “Fate.”
“Oh.” I cross my arms. “So it's fate now? I thought it was bad timing.”
The words hit exactly where I'd intended. His face immediately falls.
“Ben-”
“Don't call me that.” My voice is sharp as I stop his walk down old-nickname lane. “I'm not Ben. Or Benny. Or Benoit.” I shake my head. “I'm Bronwyn.”
For a second he doesn't say anything. He just stands there looking older, yet not as old as I'd hoped.
Honestly, he looks like a more mature, slightly better-looking version of the man who broke my heart. Then again, looks can be misleading.
“I'm gonna go.”
“Wait.”
I turn away. “No. I have to pick up my daughter.”
“I'll walk with you.”
I don't tell him no. Mostly because he falls into step beside me before I get the chance.
“So you have a daughter?”
I nod.
Normally this is where I'd pull out my phone and force unsuspecting victims to admire the nine hundred photos I have of Sophie sleeping in various positions.
Not him.
“Yup.” I answer without looking at him.
“Everything worked out then.”
“Sure.”
The answer comes out clipped. I'm not wearing my wedding ring anymore. I'm also not pointing that out.
“My mom said you married some hotshot doctor in LA.”
I resist the urge to groan. The man really doesn't know when to stop talking.
“You're talking to your mom again?”
That gets my attention.
Growing up, Dominic's relationship with his parents was… weird at best. They fed him, clothed him but they weren’t really interested in him. Kinda like my in-laws with me.
Everyone’s polite.
Nobody actually likes each other.
“Yeah.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “We got closer after Dad passed.”
The annoyance immediately drains out of me. “I was sorry to hear about your dad.”
The words come automatically. I'd thought about reaching out when I heard his father died.
I never did.
“Thanks.” He looks down at the path. “At the end, I kinda regretted not having that conversation.”
I hum.
Years ago I'd spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to convince him to talk to his parents. To stop pretending everything was fine and just say what he was actually feeling.
Those efforts ended around the same time our relationship did.
We reach the daycare building and I rub my arms. It had been warm during the day, warm enough that grabbing a jacket seemed unnecessary.
Now the temperature has dropped and I'm starting to regret that decision.
Sophie's blanket won't do her much good with this wind.
“Do you want to warm up in there?” Dominic asks, gesturing with his head toward the café next door.
I take a deep breath and study his profile.
People used to call us Barbie and Ken in high school. Because of the matching blonde hair and pale skin. There was even a poll once about whether our future kid would inherit his green eyes or my blue ones.
The poll that started after I gained weight during senior year.
Teenagers are assholes.
But even they wouldn't be stupid enough to call him Ken now.
He may still have the green eyes, but that's about where the resemblance ends.
His body has lost all traces of pretty-boy and taken on the shape of a man who actually works with it.
His face has several scars I don't remember.
A cut through his left eyebrow. A burn near his chin. Another small one by his ear.
“Please,” he says when I finally look back into his eyes. “I don't want to regret you too.”
I lick my lips.
Then, reluctantly, nod.
The café is mostly empty. Only two people are sitting by the window. One immediately stands when we enter.
“Major.”
Dominic gives him a nod of acknowledgment before leading me toward a table in the corner.
I glance back at the soldier.
“How do you get around?” I ask once we're seated.
He frowns.
“What?”
I gesture behind us. “The saluting.”
Dominic glances over his shoulder and huffs a laugh. “I don't.”
“Do they have to do that even off duty?” I ask, because the guy is very clearly dressed like a civilian.
“They don't, but...”
“They respect you,” I finish.
The realization makes me groan. I drop my forehead onto the table. “Oh my God. I hit you in front of them.”
He lets out a genuine laugh.
I lift my head just enough to glare at him. “I'm serious. I'm so sorry.”
“Don't be.” The smile doesn't leave his face. “If I told them why, they'd probably cheer you on.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I know I...” I bite my lip. “I'm glad you were upfront about it instead of stringing me along and cheating on me.”
I regret the last part as soon as it leaves my mouth. Way to specific.
His expression immediately changes. “I would've never-”
A waitress appears beside the table before he can swear he'd never have cheated on me. And maybe he wouldn't have.
We'll never know.
We both order coffee. He no longer adds the half gallon of cream he used to in high school and I don't ask for mine extra sweet.
Guess we've both changed.
“How-”
“What-”
We both start talking at the same time then awkwardly laugh.
“You go,” I say.
“You're the lady,” he replies with a smile.
I roll my eyes.
“So... Major, huh?” I ask. “How's it feel to get your dream?”
He looks away. “It's… rewarding.”
The answer sounds strangely rehearsed.
“What about you?” he asks. “How old's your daughter?”
“She'll be seven months in… three days.”
“Wow.” His eyebrows rise. “Well, you look great.”
“Didn't actually give birth to her,” I correct. “She was born through surrogacy.”
“Oh.” The surprise is immediate.
For a second he looks like he wants to ask something, then seems to think better of it.
“Well...” He clears his throat. “You're still her mom.”
Biting my lip, I nod like he'd asked a question. We're both quiet as our drinks are laid on the table. I grab a packet of stevia and shake it between my fingers.
“Why are we here?” I ask, not looking at him.
“Be... Bronwyn,” he corrects himself. “I hated how I left things.”
“I hated it too,” I joke.
Not that him dumping me on what was supposed to be our wedding day is particularly funny.
“I know you're married now.” He swallows, like the words physically hurt to get out. “But I want you to know... I never stopped loving you.”
My heart thuds painfully against my ribs.
This isn't what I expected.
Honestly, I'd expected an apology. Maybe we'd awkwardly catch up. Exchange numbers. Promise to keep in touch and then never actually do it.
Not this.
Not the thing I'd spent years secretly wishing for.
The thing I'd prayed for far longer than I'm proud to admit.
Lowering my head, I close my eyes.
“I'm not saying this to complicate your life. And you're married and-”
“I'm not,” I cut in, my voice barely above a whisper.
He freezes mid-sentence.
“I'm getting a divorce,” I clarify.
“Oh.” His face immediately brightens.
I narrow my eyes at the change. “That line isn't gonna get you into my pants just because I'm about to be divorced.”
“I don't want in your pants,” he says automatically. Then he tilts his head. “Although I wouldn't mind.”
“Dominic.”
“Sorry.” He laughs. “I'm sorry.” The asshole is still smiling.
“Stop smiling.” I snap but there’s no force behind it. Damn him and his infectious grin.
“I kinda wished for this,” he admits, a glint appearing in his eyes. The gloomy mood from earlier completely gone. “Hell, I prayed for it.”
I stare at him.
“You mean you went to church and prayed my husband would fuck the surrogate?”
His expression turns horrified.
“Well not that,” he says immediately. “Jesus Christ, Bronwyn.”
“Eh.” I shrug like it's no big deal. And I'm genuinely trying to make it not be a big deal.
If Brad and I are going to successfully co-parent, I can't spend the next eighteen years wishing his dick falls off.
It's a work in progress, though.
“My mom said you also moved home, is that for good?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I'm actually moving back to LA in two months.”
The smile disappears from his face.
“Oh.” He lets out a breath. “I didn't think you'd... leave again.”
“Why not?”
“I don't know.” He shrugs. “You love Austin.”
“I do,” I agree. “But I love my daughter more. She deserves to have her father in her life, even if he's a terrible husband.”
“Oh.”
I wipe the foam from my lip and eye him suspiciously. “What?”
“What?”
“You keep saying 'oh' like somebody just kicked your dog.”
His gaze drops to his mug. “It's nothing.”
“Dominic.”
He runs a hand through his short hair. “I was just hoping to...” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”
“What?” I push though I have a good guess what he had in mind. “Remember? No regrets.”
For a long moment he studies me.
“I'd hoped we could... see.”
“See what?”
“Us.”
Wow. Expecting it and hearing it are two different things!
This man disappears for fifteen years, tells me he's always loved me, finds out I'm getting divorced and immediately starts planning a sequel.
“Just because you admitted you had feelings doesn't mean I do.” My voice rises despite my best efforts. “And even if I did, what makes you think I'd want… this, when you dumped me because you wanted to fuck other girls?”
I must say it louder than I should've because the air inside the café suddenly goes cold.
The conversations stop.
Even the damn refrigerator seems to stop humming.
Fantastic.
Not wanting to make yet another scene in front of military personnel, I stand, abandon my mostly full coffee and head for the door.
“Benny!”
Ignoring him, I keep walking until I'm leaning against the wall outside the daycare which is where Dominic finds me again.
“Benny,” he says quietly.
I don't look at him.
“I didn't break up with you because I wanted other girls.”
“But you said...” I remind him weakly, kicking a rock with my shoe.
“I know.”
That makes me raise my head. Dominic looks miserable.
“I know,” he repeats. “The truth is... I got scared.”
I stare at him.
“Of the Army?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I mean, yeah, a little. But that wasn't what scared me.”
“Then what?”
His eyes lock onto mine. “You.”
“Me?” I ask, shocked.
“You told me you didn't have to go to college. That we could get married and you'd come with me.”
“I would've.”
“I know!” he explodes.
Several people on the sidewalk turn to look.
“Fuck.”
Before I can react, Dominic grabs my elbow and guides me further into the alley between the café and the daycare.
“You were willing to bet your entire future on me.” He presses a hand against his chest. “Do you know how terrifying that was?”
My mouth falls open. “What?”
“You were ready to defer college. Follow me around the country. Become an Army wife at nineteen.”
“I loved you.”
“I loved you too.” His voice cracks with frustration. “Enough to be terrified for you.”
I watch him drag both hands through his hair and wonder… if yet again. Another man in my life is about to blame me for hurting me.
“I kept thinking, what if you wake up five years later and hate your life? What if you realize you gave up everything for me? What if being an Army wife isn't enough?”
“It would've been.”
“And what if something happened to me?” he demands. “What then?”
Without waiting for an answer, he keeps going.
“You would've been left with no husband and no future.”
I just stare at him.
Because somehow, even after all these years, Dominic Mitchell has managed to find a brand-new way to insult me.
“Let me get this straight.”
He winces at my tone, probably guessing that I’m not about to swoon over his reasoning.
“You broke up with me... for me?”
“Yes.”
I continue staring.
His expression immediately twists.
“No.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Fuck.” He drops his head. “That's not what I meant.”
A laugh escapes me. Then another. And another.
Before I know it I'm bent at the waist, slapping my own knee while helpless chuckles keep spilling out.
“Benny,” he says warily.
That only makes me laugh harder.
“What the fuck is so funny?”
“I'm sorry.” I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “It's just...” Another laugh escapes me. “Dr. B was right; I have a type.”
He continues staring at me like I'm a bomb about to go off.
“Seriously,” I say. “For years I thought Brad was the opposite of you. I thought I didn't have a type, but apparently I do.”
“Bronwyn-”
“No, listen.” I hold up a hand, all traces of humor gone. “When Brad fucked the woman carrying our child, he blamed me. Said if I didn’t have a defective uterus, none of it would've happened.”
The color drains from Dominic's face.
“And now you.” I let out a disbelieving laugh. “You somehow managed to blame me for you breaking my heart.”
I shake my head.
“Different man. Different decade. Same bullshit.”