Chapter Twenty-Five
“You didn't,” I ask, scandalized.
“You know how serious I am about rules,” Dom says before taking a bite out of his ice cream.
I gape at him.
“Dom, a dare to streak across the LGBTQ building wearing nothing but a pride flag on your head is not enforceable.”
“It is when you're bunking with thirty Army cadets.” He shrugs. “We can be mean.”
I laugh so hard I nearly drop my spoon.
“Okay, apart from playing beer pong with mouthwash, what else have you done?”
“Uh huh.” He licks his lips. “We've been talking about me all night. Your turn.”
I make a face. “Do we have to?”
It feels like lately all I ever talk about is me. It's been nice talking about someone else for a while.
“Yes,” he says, tossing his empty cup into a nearby trash can while I'm barely halfway through mine.
“Fine.” I groan. “Ask away.”
“What do you do?”
I grimace.
Then immediately shake it off. I'm not ashamed.
“I'm actually a stay-at-home mom.”
His expression doesn't change.
“I've been one for a while,” I continue. “Even before I became a mom, actually.”
“That's nice,” he says with a shrug. “You knew what you wanted.”
I blink. Then smile.
Because that's not the reaction my mother had. Or Simone. Or half the people I've met over the years.
I respect women who want careers. I respect women who want to stay home.
At the end of the day, the important part is having a choice.
And I chose.
Nobody forced me into it. Nobody pressured me. It wasn't something I even knew I wanted until the option was there.
Sure, I'd wanted a career. I didn't grow up dreaming about folding laundry or arguing with customer service because the washing machine was making a weird noise again. But at the end of the day, I'd rather be home raising my child than working, especially when we could afford it.
That doesn't mean it was always easy. Over the years, there were moments that stung. Watching people assume I did nothing all day. Hearing jokes about how Brad paid the bills. Listening to people act like keeping a home running somehow didn't count because nobody handed me a paycheck for it.
But frustration didn't mean regret.
“You're awfully quiet,” Dom says, lightly bumping my hand with his. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” I answer immediately. Then slower, “No. I was just defending my life choices to no one.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “Your ex didn't want that?”
“Actually, it was his idea.”
The words leave a bitter taste now.
“Mom and Simone are the ones having issues with it lately. They acted supportive at first but...” I shrug. “Turns out they may not have been.”
“It's not their decision.”
The certainty in his voice surprises me. Like there's no other possible answer.
“Take it from someone who's been alone for a long time,” he continues. “Running a household might be one of the hardest jobs there is.”
“Even harder than streaking?”
“Even harder than streaking.”
I laugh.
The sound follows us as I toss my cup and start walking back toward his car.
The night has cooled considerably. I pull his jacket tighter around myself.
“So what do you do when you're not being Supermom?” he asks.
I open my mouth. Then close it again.
Because honestly?
I don't know.
The last few years have been fertility treatments. Then surrogacy. Then Sophia. And now divorce.
Somewhere along the way, everything else disappeared.
“I...” I frown. “I don't actually know.”
Dom studies me for a second. Then grins.
“Wanna go skydiving with me?”
The laugh bursts out before I can stop it. “Maybe after the second date.”
His grin widens. “Second date?”
I look down at the hand he offers me. Rolling my eyes, I lace my fingers through his.
“Yes. You convinced me.”
“Hallelujah!” he yells into the night.
I laugh as he throws his free arm in the air like he just won the lottery. Tucking myself against his side, I shake my head.
“I get to plan the second one.”
“Oh.” He groans dramatically.
“What?”
“Whenever you planned dates, they ended with me leaning against a wall while you tried on fifty dresses.”
Lightly, I smack his stomach.
“Until you snuck into the changing room.”
“Ooh.” He nods immediately. “Alright. You can plan.”
“Thank you.”
“Tomorrow.”
I bark out a laugh.
“Slow your roll there, cowboy. I have a daughter, remember?”
“So bring her.”
I blink. “You'd be okay with me bringing a baby on our date?”
He shrugs. “She's yours.”
Something warm settles in my chest.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “But I don't think her father would appreciate that.”
“You're divorced?” he states but it ends as a question.
“I said I'm getting divorced.”
His smile slips.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, wondering if he’s one of those people that don’t consider a marriage over until you sign on the dotted line.
“I...” He rubs a hand over his hair. “Nothing.”
Then he starts walking again. Only now there's space between us. Not much, but enough for me to notice.
“Why does it matter?” I ask. “Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”
Dom stops. For a second he just stares out at the dark street. Then he sighs.
“Because I'm military.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
His jaw tightens. “Bronwyn, the Army could see this as adultery.”
I gape at him. “What?”
“We're on a date.”
“So?”
“You're still legally married.”
It takes me a second to catch up to the absurdity of his words. “It’s not 1950s, he doesn’t own me.”
“I know.”
“We live in separate states.”
“I know.”
“We're getting divorced.”
“I know.”
“Then why would anyone care?” I ask frustrated.
“Because technically none of that matters.”
My mouth falls open. “That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard.”
A laugh escapes him.
“Welcome to the government.”
I stare at him.
“You could seriously get in trouble for going on a date with a separated but not divorced woman?”
His expression says enough.
“Oh my God.”
“It's usually not something anyone cares about,” he says quickly. “But if someone wanted to make a problem out of it, they could.”
“Who?”
He gives me a look. “Bronwyn, you slapped me in front of half a military base.”
I groan and drag both hands down my face hoping my makeup doesn’t smudge. “This is ridiculous.”
For a moment neither of us says anything. Then I sigh.
“So what now?”
Dom looks at me. Then he reaches for my hand again.
“Now,” he says, intertwining our fingers, “we finish this date.”
“And after that?”
A smile tugs at his lips. “After that, we'll have a second date.”
I roll my eyes. “And after that?”
“A third.”
“Dom.”
“And after that we'll have a fourth.”
“Stop.”
He grins.
I look down at our joined hands, trying and failing to hide my smile.
“What about your job?” I ask. “Could you actually get fired over this?”
“I don't think so,” he answers nonchalantly.
“Dom!” The shout echoes down the empty sidewalk. “What the hell? You can't risk your career for me.”
The amusement immediately disappears from his face.
“Bronwyn.”
His free hand comes up to the side of my neck. Firm enough to make me look at him.
“I spent fifteen years missing the hell out of you.”
The sincerity in his voice steals the rest of my argument.
“I'm not going to let some outdated rule keep me away from you now.”
My breath catches.
“I thought you cared about rules,” I whisper.
His thumb brushes my jaw. “Not when it comes to you.”
The answer makes butterflies flutter in my belly.
Biting my lip, I watch his eyes follow the movement before his other hand snakes around my waist, pulling me in.
My heart skips watching him lean closer. I barely have enough time to take a breath before his lips land on mine.
The second I taste him, muscle memory takes over and I lean in without hesitation, taking the opportunity to finally run a hand over his short hair. It's scratchy against my palm, a grounding sensation amidst the rush threatening to sweep me away.
For a moment, everything else disappears. Nothing matters when he's holding me like he's afraid I'll disappear.
I lose myself in the familiar feeling of him, in the realization that despite all the time that's passed, being with Dom still feels effortless.
Still feels right.
Eventually, needing air, I force myself to pull back, my chest rising and falling as I gulp in a breath.
“Wow.”
A chuckle escapes him, low and throaty. “Yeah.”
His forehead rests against mine for a second, neither of us moving.
Neither of us willing to break whatever this is.
Then he presses one last lingering kiss to my lips before pulling back just enough to look at me.
He doesn't let go, though.
Instead, his hand slides down until his fingers find mine, intertwining them effortlessly.
“If I say this has been the best date of my life, will you boo me?” he asks as we start walking again.
I pretend to think about it before answering. “I might.”
He shakes his head.
“You know there's a brand-new class of recruits that I'm sure is dreading tomorrow morning with me. And yet here you are, still teasing me.”
I smile. “Hey, someone's gotta keep you humble.” I add sweetly, “Major.”
He groans.
I laugh and bump my shoulder against his.
“It has been a great date,” I admit.
“Thank God,” he mutters.