Chapter Twenty-Two
“Good morning, sunshine,” Claire sings when I walk into her room with Sophie in my arms the next morning.
“Morning.”
“What'd you get up to last night?”
I wince.
Looking up from where I'm situating Sophie in my lap and getting her bottle ready, I ask, “You heard?”
“Did my daughter tell me my friend slapped her boss?” Claire asks dryly. “Why yes, she did.”
I blink. “Dom's her boss?”
“You didn't know?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I had no idea. Is she angry?”
Claire hums. “I wouldn't say she's happy.”
I close my eyes.
Fantastic.
Holding the bottle to Sophie's lips, I sigh. “Dom's...” I trail off. “Well, he's my ex.”
Claire's eyebrows shoot up. And just like that I'm forced to explain.
By the time I get to the wedding that never happened and Dominic's spectacularly stupid explanation for why he dumped me, there's a knock at the door.
Claire gets up to answer it while I burp Sophie over my shoulder.
A second later Gemma storms into the room.
“What the-” Her eyes land on Sophie. She immediately corrects herself. “Hell was that last night?”
“I'm sorry, Gemma.” I wince. “I had no idea he was your boss.”
“Well, do you often go around hitting decorated war heroes?”
I avoid her eyes, mumbling, “I had a reason.”
Gemma pinches the bridge of her nose. “You know you're basically persona non grata right now, right?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I got a call from someone who knows someone who was at the tavern last night and they read me the riot act for getting you a room here.”
“Fuck.” My stomach drops. “Gemma, I'm so sorry.”
“Keep your sorry.” She points toward the door. “Pack up before-”
A sharp knock interrupts her.
All three of us turn.
Standing in the open doorway is Dominic. In uniform.
I'm sure when they designed it, making it sexy wasn't part of the plan. Unfortunately, that's exactly how it turned out. The green somehow makes his eyes look even greener and the stupid thing actually fits him now.
Back in the day he'd been all elbows and knees. Now he looks like the recruitment poster they probably wish they had.
Gemma immediately straightens. “Sir.”
Dominic glances between us. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Sir. I was actually in the middle of having her removed.”
I blink. Removed is a bit excessive. But I get where Gemma’s coming from.
“Who told you to do that?” Dominic asks, clearly not liking that.
“Major Russell, sir.”
His jaw tightens. “I'll deal with Russell.”
“Sir, with all due respect-”
“I'll deal with Russell,” he repeats. “Get back to work. I'll be there in a little while.”
Gemma presses her lips together. It's clear she's trying to show her disapproval of me, to make it known she isn't remotely okay with the slapping incident, but it's hard to look intimidating when you're standing next to your mother.
“Yes, sir.”
With one final look that promises she isn't done being annoyed at me, she heads for the door.
“I'm sorry about that,” Dominic says once she's gone. “You can stay as long as you'd like.”
“I'm good,” I mutter, shifting Sophie onto my other shoulder.
She immediately starts babbling at him, tiny fingers grabbing at the air.
Dominic smiles. The expression softens his whole face.
Then he looks at me.
“Can we talk?”
“No.”
“Bronwyn,” Claire hisses.
Before I can dodge her, she swoops in and steals my daughter.
“I'm gonna put her down for a nap.”
Sophie immediately abandons me for Claire without a second thought, grabbing at her hair and smiling.
“Traitor,” I mutter.
Claire pretends not to hear me as she slips out the adjoining door.
“Why are you here, Dominic?” I ask tiredly.
I spent most of the night tossing and turning and it had nothing to do with my surprisingly cooperative daughter.
No, I'd spent hours replaying our conversation over and over again.
Did I overreact? Was I right?
I probably shouldn't have compared him to Brad. But the hurt I'd felt in that moment had been real.
Hell, it may have been more.
Brad knew cheating was wrong. He knew exactly what he'd done and was just looking for an excuse.
Dominic was worse because he sincerely believed he'd done the right thing.
That breaking my heart had been some kind of sacrifice. That hurting me had been for my benefit. And that thought had kept me awake far longer than Sophie ever could.
“What I said last night...” Dominic starts. “It came out wrong.”
“Sure,” I reply dryly.
“No, I mean it.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I was a coward. I got scared. And you have no idea how much I've regretted it.”
I roll my shoulders.
“Dominic, you've travelled the world. You've had this amazing military career. You got your dream.”
A sad smile tugs at his lips. “Maybe.”
I frown.
“At the end of the day,” he says quietly, “no matter where I was... I was alone.”
I stare at him. Because that's not the answer I expected.
“You didn't date?”
He lets out a laugh. “I tried. A few times.”
That makes sense.
We may have been high school sweethearts, but even then he had a history.
Stupid Sarah Scott and her stupid first kiss in stupid fifth grade.
“And?”
He looks away. “And I couldn't stop comparing them to you.”
Something uncomfortable twists in my stomach.
“If it didn't work with you, it sure as hell wasn't going to work with anyone else.”
I'd like to contradict that statement. I'd really like to. But considering I'm currently getting divorced, what exactly do I know about making relationships work?
I bite my lip. “You know, I've been in two serious relationships in my life and they've both failed.”
He smiles.
The expression looks strange paired with the uniform.
“Maybe it's not a failure,” he says quietly. “Maybe it's a success waiting to happen.”
I snort. “Which one?”
He hums, pretending to think about it.
“Probably the one where the guy is ruggedly handsome and would rather cut his own arm off than hurt you again.”
I roll my eyes but look away anyway, clearing my throat.
The worst part is that seventeen-year-old me would've eaten that line up.
Thirty-four-year-old me isn't doing much better.
“You're really persistent,” I remark, breaking eye contact.
For all my talk about moving on and accountability, I'm apparently very easy to sway.
“Does that mean I get to take you out tonight?” he asks.
“Don't push your luck.” I stand, dusting off my shirt. “Besides, I have to head back to Austin. It's my niece's christening today and I'm already running late.”
“How about I drive down?” He persists.
Before I can answer, Claire yells from the other room. “Say yes!”
I close my eyes. Putting Sophie to bed, my ass.
Laughing at the interruption, I shake my head. “Well, apparently I have to say yes.”
His smile softens. Standing, he takes a step closer. Then another.
My breath catches as he lifts a hand and cups my cheek.
For a moment he doesn't say anything. Just looks at me. Like he's taking inventory of all the ways I've changed.
I suddenly become painfully aware of every flaw.
The scar near my temple from the exploding egg incident.
The nose job.
The lines around my eyes that weren't there fifteen years ago.
The softness around my middle that no amount of exercise has ever completely erased.
I know I look good.
I do.
I take care of myself. I work out. I have a skincare routine that borders on religious.
But after everything that's happened, my confidence isn't exactly what it used to be.
So, I hold my breath.
Waiting.
Wondering if he's seeing me or comparing me to the girl I used to be.
Wondering if he's disappointed. Wondering if that's why he keeps staring.
“I'll pick you up at eight,” Dom murmurs, interrupting my spiral.
Then he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. It's barely there. Just a whisper of his lips against my skin.
A simple gesture that shouldn't be a big thing. Yet my breath catches anyway.
When he steps back, the moment ends. The warmth of him disappears. And I immediately miss it.
“I'll see you later, Benny.”
I open my mouth to complain about the nickname. But he's already walking toward the door.
“Woof.”
I jump.
I'd been so focused on Dominic leaving that I hadn't even noticed the connecting door open.
Claire is standing there with a very awake and alert Sophie in her arms. One hand is fanning herself dramatically.
“That man...”
“Please don't.” I cringe.
The last thing I need is for my friend-slash-surrogate-mother-figure, since my actual mother is still firmly planted in the marriage is hard camp, to start talking about how attractive Dominic is.
“No wonder your other ex was insecure,” is all she says.
I point out. “Brad never met Dominic.”
Claire snorts. “If you think that man never looked up your ex, you're delusional.”
I purse my lips.
Now that I think about it, right after we had the ex-talk, Brad had weirdly started bringing up how our heights were compatible. At the time I didn't think much of it.
But maybe it had something to do with Dominic being a good head taller than me.
Maybe finding out my ex looked like he belonged on a recruitment poster had bruised his ego a little.
“Huh.”
Shaking my head, I grab my phone and head into my room.
The christening probably already started and even if I leave right now, there's no chance I'm making it to the church on time.
Which honestly isn't the worst thing.
The last thing I need is a dozen nosy relatives asking where Brad is.
Claire follows me in while I start throwing things into my bag.
“What are your plans now?” I ask, folding one of Sophie's tiny onesies.
“Oh.” Claire sits on the bed while Sophie immediately tries to stand on her lap.
My daughter is seven months old and already attempting to become mobile.
The sight makes my chest swell with pride.
“I'm heading back to LA,” Claire says. “I need to pack up my place and put it on the market.”
“You're selling it?”
She nods. “Even if Georgetown doesn't work out, I don't think I'm fast enough for LA anymore.”
I close my eyes. I hate that she's leaving.
“When will you be back?” I ask wondering if we’ll be like two ships in the night.
“Who knows?”
I nod; real estate isn’t exactly predictable. “I'm here for another two months. Even if I don't want to fight the custody case here, Brad already agreed to let us stay until the lease expires. Might as well get the most out of it.”
Claire wiggles her eyebrows. “Like dating that man?”
Groaning, I fall backward onto the bed beside her.
“This is crazy, right?” I ask, staring at the ceiling. “I'm moving to another state. I'm not even divorced yet. I have a child. Starting something new right now is...”
“A date isn't a marriage certificate,” Claire interrupts.
I glance at her.
She shrugs.
“You're not signing a contract, Bronwyn. You're having dinner.”
I stay quiet.
“See where it goes,” she continues. “Maybe it'll lead to something beautiful.”
“And if it doesn't?”
“Then you'll have spent one evening with a man you used to care about.”
I chew on that. Because she's right.
I've been acting like agreeing to dinner means agreeing to forever.
Like one date somehow locks me into a future I won't be able to escape.
“Besides,” Claire says with a grin, bouncing Sophie, “it's the least you can do for your country.”