18. Forgive Me, Father
Forgive Me, Father
By the time Friday creeps close, I’ve all but shoved the voice note out of my head.
He hasn’t sent anything else and I never replied, forced myself into silence.
It was nothing. A slip of curiosity, a ridiculous indulgence I should never have allowed.
Pragmatism is the Polish way, and nothing about cooing messages back and forth with a man who surely has a different groupie in his bed at every tour stop, is pragmatic.
Dominik is. Dominik, who already makes sense to everyone around me, my parents, Piotr and Aga, even little Zosia.
Dominik, whose family has known mine for years, who shares my roots, my heritage, who slips into Polish with me like it’s as natural as breathing.
Dominik, who looks at me like I’m a woman he wants to build a life with. That’s where my future lies.
So I focus on him and our date. I remember how he’d said it over the phone, no room to argue.
Friday, date night. I’ll drop Zosia with Piotr and Aga for family dinner.
No interruptions, no excuses. I’d agreed at the time and now I’m glad, it gives me the distraction I need.
I throw myself into date preening like I haven’t done since my early twenties, tearing through my closet, cursing every hanger, discarding dresses that suddenly feel too juvenile or too clinical.
I want something that says steady, sensual, grown.
A woman, not a girl. Not to seduce him, not even really for him but to prove to myself I can still be wanted this way.
The mirror becomes my battleground. Hair smoothed, then tousled again until it looks effortless.
Lipstick too intense, wiped off, then reapplied in a softer shade.
By the time I step into my parents’ house, I feel like I’ve been through a war with my own closet.
The living room goes still for a beat, then erupts all at once. Mama clasps her hands under her chin.
“Bo?e ?wi?ty (Holy God) , look at our Kasia. I knew I gave birth to a beauty queen.”
Tata shakes his head in mock disbelief. “How did we make such perfection, Mama?”
Aga, bouncing Kacper, even offers a warm word. “Dominik won’t believe he’s so lucky! He'll probably pass out the second he sees you.”
Even Natalia looks up from her phone, blinking wide-eyed. “You look… hot.” She stands, pulls me in, and to my utter shock lifts her phone. “Selfie.”
I laugh, leaning in. If Natalia wants a photo with you, it’s the highest honor.
When she’s satisfied, Natalia quips, “See? You could look like this all the time if you put in a little more effort.”
I scoff. “Silly me. I was just busy being a doctor.”
“Yes, Kasia,” Piotr chimes in with a grin. “You never learned how to work smarter, not harder.”
The whole room breaks into laughter. I roll my eyes, cheeks burning, but the warmth of it swells in me. Then the door opens.
Zosia barrels in first, braids bouncing, eyes huge. She stops dead when she sees me. “Wow… Auntie Kasia. You’re so beautiful.”
My chest squeezes. “Dzi?kuj?, kochanie, (Thank you, sweetheart)” I say softly, crouching to kiss her forehead.
Then Dominik steps in behind her. He’s dressed well, a fitted navy blazer over an open-collared white shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, dark trousers that fit just right.
I catch the subtle hint of cologne clinging to his skin, warm with a trace of something spiced like cinnamon.
Something strong that matches him. When he leans in to greet me, cheek to cheek, the scent is enough to make me sway.
“Dobry wieczór, (Good evening)” he murmurs, but the words falter, his breath catching. His eyes sweep over me once, twice, as though he can’t quite believe it. “You—you look—” He swallows. “Przepi?kny. (Gorgeous)”
Heat blooms in my cheeks, and before I can answer, Piotr appears, slinging an arm around Dominik’s shoulders. He slaps his back, then grips the back of his neck, pulling him in close.
“She’s still my sister,” Piotr says, voice playful but firm. “If you knock her up, the wedding moves up. Yes?”
Dominik bursts into laughter, flustered, but clearly game, undeterred. “Understood.”
I groan, burying my face in my hands. “That’s our cue. Time to go before this gets worse.”
The family cackles as we head for the door, Zosia waving wildly and my heart thunders. Not from the seductive voice that haunted me all week. From this. From him.
The engine vibrates low as we pull away, streetlights flashing across the windshield. For a while it’s silent, just the two of us breathing in the same space, but I can feel his eyes sliding over me, again and again.
“Dominik,” I mutter, shifting in my seat. “We’re going to crash and die before we even make it if you don’t focus.”
His mouth quirks. “Don’t be stuck up.”
“You’re about to miss a stop sign.”
He jolts, swears under his breath, and slams the brakes, both of us jerking forward. We burst into laughter, the sound bouncing around the car.
“See?” I grin at him, shaking my head. “Arrogance and accuracy aren’t the same thing.”
He glances at me, still laughing, one hand back on the wheel, the other shifting gears.
I can’t help watching his arm, the flex of muscles, the way his hand moves from wheel to gear, steady and precise.
Every so often his gaze cuts to me, trailing down, lingering where my dress rides just high enough to bare the line of my thigh.
Something inside me snaps. I catch his hand mid-motion, drag it from the gearshift, and press it high on my leg. Heat coils there instantly, sparking like I’ve opened a live wire we can’t hold onto. He freezes, swallows hard, the sound audible even over the car.
I chuckle, low and wicked. “What? You’ve literally had your mouth on everything above this. You’re acting like it’s some holy pilgrimage.”
His fingers flex against me, somehow gentle and possessive in equal measure. He exhales, voice raw. “I’ll never stop being grateful to touch you.”
The words sink deep, too earnest and real, and I can’t look away. Every shift of his hand against me sparking in the dark.
I try to laugh it off, smoothing my dress as though that could ease the flush in my cheeks. “Honestly, the way everyone acted tonight, you’d think I was hideous the rest of the time. I just put on some makeup, that’s all. Still the same Kasia.”
“This version?” He glances at me again, eyes lingering before he drags them back to the road. “Everyone else finally sees what I do.”
Heat floods up my neck, my smile faltering, caught between flustered and disbelieving. “Dominik…”
He shakes his head, a laugh rumbling in his chest. “The girl who knocked me flat on my ass, I wanted to annoy her just so she’d do it again.
When we were sixteen, I remember you wore some shorts that drove me insane, Piotr glaring like he’d swing if I blinked at you too long. Always you. Always this.”
The words land in me like a weight and a wing all at once, pinning and lifting, too much to hold. I don’t know what to say, so I just press my hand over his where it rests on my thigh, and the silence between us feels louder than anything we could say.
When we pull into the restaurant lot, my stomach is a storm. He kills the engine, steps out, and comes around to open my door but I can’t move yet. Not until I do this.
As soon as he pulls the handle, I lean across the gap, and with the door still between us I kiss him. Soft at first, then deeper, letting it catch fire. His hand braces against the roof as he tries to lean in more, but the damn door blocks him. He breaks off with a curse, breath ragged.
“Time to go in,” he says, voice low and unsteady. “Unless you’d rather skip dinner and move this date from the front seat to the back seat.”
The spark flickers hot inside me. It doesn’t sound like the worst idea he’s ever had.
I shut the door fast, pulse hammering, and before he can lock it I pop the handle on the backseat and slide in.
The leather is cool beneath my thighs as I stretch out across it, deliberately lounging like it’s the done thing.
Dominik leans in through the open door, shaking his head, laughing under his breath. “What are you doing?”
I prop myself up on one elbow, smirking. “Isn’t this what you used to imagine when we were teenagers? Me in those shorts, taking me on a date, thinking about the things we’d do in the back seat later? Things you dreamed about but never asked?”
He groans, motioning for me to get out. “We have a reservation.”
I kick off my shoes, sinking deeper into the seat. “Knowing you, we’re early.”
“Kasia…” he tries again, exasperated, but I grab the front of his shirt, tugging him closer until he stumbles.
He swears softly, then finally gives in, sliding in beside me and shutting the door with a thud. He stares at me in disbelief, grinning like he can’t decide whether to kiss me or scold me. “It was a joke. You’re out of your mind.”
I swing a leg over, straddling him, the cramped space forcing us close. His back presses into the seat as far as it will go, eyes never leaving mine.
My fingers brush against his chest, lingering at his open collar. “Oh no,” I murmur. “You forgot your cross tonight. That was a mistake, Nowicki.”
His laugh is shaky, but when his gaze lifts again it’s not joking anymore. Lust replaces it, raw and unguarded. He pulls me close, hands sliding under my thighs, spreading me, hiking my dress higher, shifting until he finds a better angle.
The second he settles I feel him, already hard and urgent against me.
The pressure is so perfect I can’t hold back the sound that escapes.
He groans in answer, the vibration of it deep in his chest as his mouth finds mine.
We move together, kisses desperate, hands roaming, every brush of skin a spark.