Chapter 23 #2
“About what?” Oliver’s voice was carefully flat as he picked up a scrap of wood.
“About your mother.” Dominic kept his gaze steady.
The kitchen went quiet. Even the fire seemed to crackle more softly, the way it, too, were waiting to see what would happen next. Lily had gone still, her usual boundless energy temporarily suspended. Oliver’s lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers curling tightly around the edge of the table.
Dominic took a breath and let it out slow.
“I love her.” He offered no preamble, no pretty words, and no careful hedging. It was simply the truth, plain and simple. “I want to marry her.”
Lily’s mouth fell open, a small squeak of surprise escaping her. Her eyes went enormous, filling her whole face. Oliver didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He simply stared at Dominic with an expression that was impossible to read.
“Marry her?” Lily’s voice came out breathless as she clutched her skirts. “You want to marry our Mama?”
“If she will have me.” Dominic nodded, keeping his attention on both children. He watched their reactions, trying to read the thoughts hidden behind their youthful features. “But I wanted to ask you first.”
“Ask us?” Oliver’s frown deepened as he set the wood back down. “Why?”
“Because you are her family.” Dominic leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table to meet the boy’s suspicious gaze without flinching. “Because if I marry her, I am not just becoming her husband. I am becoming part of your lives too. That’s not something I should decide without you.”
Oliver said nothing, his mind clearly processing the mass of the statement. Lily, meanwhile, looked as if she might explode from the effort of staying quiet. Her hands were pressed over her mouth, and her whole body practically vibrated with what could only be described as violent joy.
“I know I am not your father.” Dominic remained perfectly still, his posture open and unthreatening. “But I would like to be… something. If you will let me.”
“Something like what?” Lily dropped her hands to her lap, her curiosity finally winning out over her attempt at restraint.
Dominic searched for the words to describe the life he was offering them.
“Like someone who is there.” He shrugged one shoulder, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Someone who takes you fishing. Someone who lets you read first editions until your eyes go crossed. Someone who makes your mother smile.”
“She has been smiling more.” Lily beamed, her wide, infectious grin returning. “She has been humming. Humming! She never hums.”
“Has she?” Dominic couldn’t quite suppress his own grin. The image of Nell happy enough to hum sent a strange, complicated thrum through his chest.
“You really love her?” Oliver’s question landed hard.
Dominic met the boy’s eyes and held them. “More than anything.”
“She has been hurt before.” Oliver’s chin lifted with defiant pride, his small hands curling into fists on the tabletop. “Our father… I think he was not kind to her.”
Dominic went stone-still. He’d known, of course — Nell had shared her truth in the quiet of his bedroom — but hearing it from Oliver was something else entirely. The boy had never met his father, yet he’d gathered enough to piece the story together on his own. He knew far more than Nell realized.
“I know.” Dominic’s response was a rough friction in his throat. He cleared it, forcing himself to settle. “She told me.”
A crack formed in Oliver’s expression—surprise, perhaps, that his mother had shared that particular secret with an outsider.
“And you still want to marry her?” Oliver’s gaze searched Dominic’s face for any hint of a lie.
“I want to spend the rest of my life making sure no one ever hurts her again.” Dominic didn’t blink, letting the boy see the iron-clad promise in his eyes. “Including me.”
The room went still. Lily looked from one to the other like a spectator at a match, her excitement suspended as she waited for her brother.
“What if you change your mind?” The question broke, betraying the fear beneath Oliver’s bravado. “What if you decide you don’t want us?”
“I won’t.” Dominic reached out, though he didn’t touch the boy, keeping his hand palm-up on the table—an open invitation.
“How do you know?” Oliver pressed, his stare tracking.
Dominic leaned forward, ensuring their gazes were locked. “Because I have already decided. I am not asking your mother to marry me despite her having children, and I am asking her because of who she is. You are part of who she is. The best part, maybe.”
Oliver’s jaw worked. His eyes shone with unshed tears, though he fought to keep them back.
“If you hurt her...” The boy’s words hitched, but he forced them out. “If you ever hurt her...”
“Then you’ve my permission to gut me.” Dominic nodded toward the whittling blade on the table. “I mean it. You have my word. If I ever make her cry from cruelty, you can hold me to account.”
Oliver’s expression loosened by a degree. The suspicion didn’t vanish—trust would take more than a single afternoon—but a crack appeared in his armor.
“Lily?” Dominic turned to the girl, who looked ready to burst. “What do you think?”
She bit her lip, clearly savoring the drama of the interrogation, before her face split into the widest grin he’d ever seen.
“I think you should have asked ages ago.” She laughed, her heels drumming a happy rhythm against the chair legs.
Dominic’s own laughter followed—a real, loose sound that felt entirely unrehearsed. Lily giggled in response, clapping her hands with delight.
“So?” He looked between them, his heart hammering harder than it had any right to. “Do I have your blessing?”
Lily’s head bobbed so vigorously her curls bounced. “Yes. Absolutely yes. A thousand times yes.”
They both looked at Oliver. The boy was silent, wrestling with the conflict playing out behind his too-old eyes.
“If you make her cry.” Oliver spoke with a slow cadence, his eyes moving from the knife back to Dominic. “I will never forgive you.”
“I will make her cry.” Dominic met the threat with quiet honesty. “Sometimes. We will fight. We will disagree. But I will never make her cry from cruelty. Only from joy. Or from being stubborn.”
“She is stubborn.” The corner of Oliver’s mouth twitched, just barely, as he looked down at his wood carving.
“Impossibly stubborn.” Dominic agreed, leaning back with a small huff of a laugh. “I love that about her.”
Another silence followed. It lasted longer this time, filled only by the rhythmic scraping of the boy’s knife. Then Oliver nodded once, a sharp, decisive motion.
“Fine.” He picked up his knife and went back to his whittling like the most important conversation of his young life were already behind him. “You can ask her.”
“Thank you.” Dominic rose from his chair, his expression solemn as he treated the moment with the gravity it deserved. “Both of you.”
“When are you going to do it?” Lily bounced on her heels, unable to contain herself any longer. She clutched the back of a kitchen chair. “Can we watch? Please? Please, please, please?”
“Tonight.” Dominic headed for the door, his steps lighter than they had been when he entered. “At the carnival.”
“The carnival?” Lily gasped, pressing both hands to her cheeks. “In front of everyone?”
“In front of everyone.” He paused at the threshold and looked back at them. “She deserves to know I am not ashamed of her. I want the whole world to see.”
“That’s so romantic.” Lily sighed, the word coming out dreamy and drawn out as she stared at the ceiling. “Like something from a novel.”
Oliver rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now. He didn’t try to hide it anymore as he worked his blade.
“Not a word to your mother.” Dominic pointed a finger at them both, his eyes twinkling. “It’s a surprise.”
“We won’t tell.” Lily mimed locking her lips, then throwing away the key with a dramatic flourish. “Promise. Cross my heart.”
Dominic left the room. Behind him, he heard Lily squeal into her hands and something that might have been a rare laugh from Oliver.
Two down. One to go.
Nell was waiting when he emerged from the kitchen. She stood in the middle of her shop with her arms crossed and a smudge of flour on her cheek. She wore an expression that told him she’d spent the entire time he was gone trying to figure out what he was up to.
“What was that about?” She stepped toward him, her eyes bright and curious, a faint tilt to her head as she tried to read him.
“Nothing.” He tried for an innocent smile, though his racing pulse betrayed him.
“Nothing.” She echoed the word, her gaze narrowing as she crossed her arms. “You walked into my kitchen, shut the door, and had a private conversation with my children about nothing.”
“That’s right.” He shrugged, letting a teasing smirk tug at his lips.
“You are a terrible liar.” She shifted a step closer, eyes probing his face, searching for a crack in his composure.
“I am an excellent liar.” He stepped forward, closing the space between them with measured ease, letting the heat from his body brush against hers. “You just know me too well.”
She didn’t flinch. Nell never did. Her chin lifted, her stance steady, her look sharp and unyielding, even as he pressed her gently back against the counter.
“Dominic...” She tilted her head slightly, a faint exhale escaping her as she studied him, the tension between them humming like a wire ready to snap.
“Are you going to the carnival tonight?” He changed the subject before she could interrogate him further, reaching out to steady himself on the wood beside her.
She blinked in confusion. “I… What?”
“The winter carnival.” He reached up and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on the soft skin of her cheek. “In the village square. Are you going?”
“I usually take the children.” She was distracted now. His nearness always scrambled her thoughts in a way that pleased him immensely. “Why?”
“I will meet you there.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against her forehead. “Wear something pretty.”
“What are you planning?” She reached for his lapels, her brow furrowing.
“Nothing.” He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “I just want to see you.”
“You are seeing me now.” She pointed out, her breath hitching.
“I want to see you more.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, a light and teasing touch. “I want to see you under the lanterns. Dancing.”
Her composure fractured. He felt it, the tiny vibration in her chest.
“What did you say to my children?” She asked, though her resolve was clearly melting.
“Things.” He grinned, stepping back toward the door.
“Dominic!” She called after him.
He kissed her properly this time. It was quick but thorough, enough to make her forget what she’d been asking, for when he pulled back, her eyes were slightly glazed.
“Tonight.” He stepped away before she could recover. “The carnival. Do come please.”
Then he was gone, out the door and into the morning sun. He left her standing in her bakery with flour on her hands and confusion on her face. From the kitchen, he heard the sound of muffled giggling.
Nell closed her eyes and drew a long breath. He was definitely up to something.