Dom pulls his car up to the arrivals pickup at the Philadelphia airport and immediately jumps out of his SUV to help me with a bag I’m perfectly able to lift on my own. Which I tell him as I shoulder check him away from my suitcase.
He doesn’t fight me over loading it into the trunk, but when he closes the door, Dom immediately crowds me against the bumper. His hands cup my face, fingers digging into my lopsided I-just-spent-hours-on-an-airplane messy bun, and he tilts my chin up only to press a kiss on my nose rather than my mouth.
“You came,” he mutters, pressing another kiss just below my ear, unleashing a riot of goose bumps to overwhelm my body.
I cross my arms over my chest so he won’t see how hard my nipples are through my bralette. Dom’s eyes flick down to the defensive pose, then back up to meet my eyes. He frowns but doesn’t let me go.
“Something change?” he asks.
Oh. He thinks I’m not horny for his handsome jelly-tattooed ass?
“You want to have your snack, then you better take me back to your place.”
His eyes darken, his mouth curls, and a pleased rumble sounds in the back of his throat, which doesn’t help the nipple situation.
“You’re the boss.”
Then Dom steps back from me, and I straighten my glasses while pretending I don’t feel the loss of his looming presence. On the drive from the airport to Dom’s town house, he holds my hand and tells me about the schedule for the next day, which involves an earlier departure time to hopefully beat some of the commencement ceremony traffic. His parents are going to be there, and the twins, too, obviously.
I know we need to talk about how we’ll act around each other when we’re with the group, but I’d rather do that when I don’t smell like airplane food.
“I’m showering first thing when I get to your place,” I tell him.
Dom nods as he flicks on the turn signal. “I put extra towels in the master bathroom for you.”
That sounds like the bathroom connected to his room.
“You know you don’t have to share your bed with me. If you’ve got an extra room, I can stay there.”
The half of Dom’s face I can see frowns. “No.”
“No, you don’t have an extra room?” A “town house” sounds like it would have at least one guest bedroom.
“There’s an extra room,” he admits, voice full of reluctance. “But…it’s broken.”
“The room is broken?”
He nods. I fight a smile and manage a serious tone.
“An entire room in your house just…broke?”
He nods again as his thumb rubs my knuckles.
“Ah. Hate when that happens.”
Dom grunts as he parallel parks on a residential street, maneuvering the wheel one-handed, his forearm flexing in a visual display that I would label as porn. Dirty, lick-able, X-rated arm pornography.
A half hour later, after I’ve gotten the quick tour of the two-story home—which isn’t as minimalist as I expected, with its dark wood bookshelves and cushy sectional—I pop my contacts in and enjoy a shower in Dom’s massive bathroom. Clean and wrapped in a too-large robe he left me, I wander back into the bedroom to grab an outfit from my bag. While I have my suitcase open, I pull out the dress I plan to wear tomorrow and open Dom’s closet, hoping that hanging the fabric overnight will get rid of some of the travel wrinkles. When I have it situated on a hanger next to all of Dom’s crisp dress shirts, I notice something I should have expected to find here.
On the floor of his closet, tucked back in the corner, I spy a small safe with a number keypad.
The safe.
Dom never sent me a message about changing the combination. I settle cross-legged in front of it, under the cedar-scented shirts, feeling for a moment like I’m about to rifle through his private things. But then I remind myself they’re my things, too.
Reaching out, I type in four numbers.
0-7-1-8
The handle clicks and when I grasp it, I’m able to swing the door open.
My birthday. Why is it my birthday?
Inside there’s Dom’s passport and other documents I don’t care about. My attention is all for a stack of envelopes, most of them with ragged edges from where we tore them to get at Josh’s words.
“Hey, Josh,” I whisper, reaching out to tap the missives as if they were my brother’s shoulder and I only wanted to get his attention.
“You looking to rob me?”
I jump, then glance behind me to find Dom leaning a shoulder against the doorway, wearing a half smile as he watches me snoop.
“Of course.” I swing the safe shut, waiting until I hear the click of the lock before I turn fully around to face him. “But a good cat burglar always seduces her prey first.” I tug on the robe’s belt until it gapes open, then spread my knees in invitation.
Dom’s lids lower as he drags his gaze over my bare body. “You are good.” He stalks across the room, switching our roles until I feel like the prey. In a smooth move, Dom lifts me off the floor and drops me on the edge of his bed. A breath later his face finds a home between my thighs, and I focus on my controlled breathing as he eats the snack I promised him while my fingers tangle in his silky dark hair.
For the rest of the night Dom and I reacquaint ourselves with each other’s bodies, only pausing when a pizza delivery arrives, and then again when he announces that we need to get some sleep. I pretend as though I plan to walk down the hall to the “broken” guest room, but only because I love the way Dom growls and hooks me around the hips to tug me back into bed beside him.
When I wake up in the morning to Dom’s irritating alarm, my sleep shirt feels overly tight and I realize it’s because his hand is fisted in the material, the guy maintaining an unrelenting grip even as he sleeps, which is both annoying and endearing.
Dom takes me in the shower with my hands pressed against the slick tiles and his hips pressing against my ass. I keep my breathing steady by inhaling in time with his slow thrusts, and when I come first, he promises to follow me, praising how I take him so well.
Our shower goes longer than planned, which fucks with Dom’s schedule. But he only smiles and continues to touch me after I towel off until I have to laughingly swat his hands away so I can put on my dress without interference.
My outfit is a simple sundress, just some flowy green fabric with burnt orange flowers. But Dom seems fascinated with the bows that hold up the straps, his fingers smoothing over them as I try to wrangle my hair into a braid crown.
Dom looks handsome enough to model whatever his secret cedar cologne is, of course. His gray pants fit him indecently well, and he’s paired them with a short-sleeve white button-up that brings out the subtle tan notes in his skin.
The whole morning and process of getting ready together felt flirty and fun.
The mood changes on our drive to the campus when I ask a simple yet obvious question.
“What should we say to your family?”
Dom’s fingers tighten on my hand that he’s claimed once more.
“What do you want to tell them?” He keeps his eyes on the road.
I smooth my skirt over my legs. “I’m not super interested in explaining the concept of hookup buddies to the rest of the Perrys.”
Dom doesn’t respond, but he’s also switching lanes in heavy traffic, so I don’t blame his divided focus.
I clear my throat and say what I brainstormed on the cross-country flight. “We’ll just say we’re friends. Friendly. That we’ve learned how to get along while traveling together. And you offered me your broken guest room when I said I wanted to come to the graduation.” I throw a teasing smile at Dom, but I can’t read his stoic face.
“If that’s what you want,” Dom says after taking our exit.
I nod. “Less questions and weirdness this way.”
Less of the Perrys wondering why Dom would choose me. Less of me being compared to the date he brought to the twins’ last graduation.
I’ve spent enough of my younger years using the perfect example of Rosaline to pick myself apart. I don’t want to see the look in people’s eyes as they do the same and find me wanting.
I turn to stare out the window and try to ignore the queasy feeling in my gut.
Dom doesn’t let go of my hand until he parks in the designated parking garage. He doesn’t try to reclaim it as we make our way toward the stadium. Not that he should.
Friends don’t walk around holding hands.
We find the Perry parents and they both claim hugs from me, thanking me for coming so far. I shrug, guilty, telling them I regret missing the twins’ high school graduation.
The one Josh attended.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and a quick check shows me Pamela’s name. I ignore it, but a second later, the phone starts ringing again.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
I told her about this trip, but said I’d be available if needed.
Why? Why didn’t I just say I’d be out for two days?
“I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick.” I throw a thumb over my shoulder and Emilia promises they’ll wait for me. Dom’s eyes drop to my buzzing pocket, and I turn before he sees the mortified flush that overtakes my face. I feel like he knows I’m sneaking off to the bathroom to take a work call.
He was the one to find me in the janitor’s closet.
That feels like forever ago. But also, kind of like it was yesterday.
Josh has been gone for over a year.
I press my hand against my twisting stomach and try to think about why Pamela would be calling me instead.
Ten minutes later, after sitting in a not particularly clean bathroom stall and talking my boss through where a certain dataset was stored, I jog back to where I split off from the Perrys, worried I took too long and they left to find seats without me.
A sigh of relief gusts out of me when I spot Dom’s handsome head above the crowd, but then the people in front of me part and I tense up.
Another person has joined the group in my absence.
Rosaline smiles up at Dom as he says something to her. The woman looks stunning in a flowing blue dress that brushes the tops of her knees. Her russet hair falls in beautiful silky waves down her back, and with a set of heeled sandals, she’s the perfect height for Dom to not have to crane his neck to talk to her.
She chuckles at something he says, and I close my eyes briefly because, damn it, even her laughter is stunning.
How could he not love this woman anymore?
After dragging in a deep breath and blinking my eyes open again, I approach the group, feeling like my footsteps clomp loudly on the cement floor.
“Maddie!” Emilia says. “There you are. Thought we’d lost you.”
“Sorry. Long line.” I give a vague wave toward the bathroom.
Dom’s mom chuckles in understanding. “Well, now we’re all here. Thank you both again for coming.” She shares a smile between Rosaline and me. “After everything…” Emilia clears her throat, eyes glassy. “Well, I just don’t want us to pass out of each other’s lives.”
My throat is thick as I try to swallow. Her sentiment is genuine, and I wish there wasn’t a twisted part of me that is unhappy to find out that despite the divorce, Dom’s ex still gets along with her in-laws.
Are they just waiting for the two of them to patch things up?
I might need to go back to the bathroom and vomit.
“Hi, Maddie. I love your dress.” Rosaline stares down at me with a small smile, her eyes wide and sincere.
And that’s one of the many problems with her.
Rosaline is kind. And decent. And smart.
And has never done anything to earn my ill will other than love, and be loved by, Dominic Perry.
“Hi,” I croak. “Yours is really pretty, too.” Good job. That was nice. Maybe I can keep from turning into a jealous troll person.
“Let’s go grab seats. I don’t want to sit in the nosebleeds.” Mr. Perry ushers us toward the entrance of the stadium and I’m thankful I don’t have to formulate any more small talk when I really have one question.
Are you here because you’re still in love with Dom and you want him back?
Damn it. I’m fucking hopeless.
But all I want is to beg Rosaline to wait a little longer to make her move.
Give me till Alaska. Please. I know you’re the perfect choice for him. But just let me have him a little while longer.
We end up sitting in a row, Mr. Perry, Mrs. Perry, Rosaline, Dom, and me on the end. The add-on that could easily be done away with. To keep from sliding too far into my hopeless spiral, I search the crowd of graduates in their square hats, looking for two familiar faces.
“The section closest to our side,” Dom murmurs in my ear, making me jump. “Four rows from the back, eight chairs in.”
Following his directions, I spot Adam and Carter. The former is chatting with the guy seated behind him and the latter is on his phone.
“I see them.” And I keep my eyes on them.
At least I do until I feel a brush on my thigh. Glancing down, I realize Dom has a small bit of my dress pinched between his fingers. He fiddles with the material in an idle gesture, as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing. But when I raise my gaze to his face, I find him staring intently at his hand.
Mr. Perry is focused on recording the start of the ceremony, and Emilia is telling Rosaline about some new branch of the nonprofit she works for. No one notices what Dom is doing. Only me.
Soon enough we’re cheering for Adam and Carter as they walk across the stage, then filing out of our seats with the rest of the crowd, off to find our graduates.
The twins grin wide when they locate us. Everyone hugs. Adam picks me up off the ground for a quick twirl, and when he sets me down, I wobble until Dom steadies me with warm hands on my exposed shoulders. He runs his thumbs over the bows of my dress straps before letting his hands drop.
Our group goes to lunch at a Mexican restaurant—a real one, not Taco Bell—and I wonder if I feel like an odd interloper on their family outing. They have Rosaline—why would they need me? There’s clearly no lingering tension from the divorce. Almost like the split never even happened.
I’m grateful when Adam sits beside me and leans in close, insisting I describe to him, in detail, what would make a perfect puzzle table. By the time the food is gone, he has a sketch on his napkin that sounds like a dream piece of furniture, but I still insist he doesn’t need to make it for me.
“Hey.” Carter knocks Adam’s shoulder. “The team is texting.”
“Crap. I forgot.” He straightens, tucking the napkin into the pocket of his shirt. “Mom, Dad, some of the swim team was gonna meet up for drinks. A last hurrah. You mind if we go?”
The Perry parents exchange quick commiserating smiles. “You have fun,” Emilia says. “But you promised to be at Sunday breakfast. Don’t forget.”
“Yes, Mom,” the twins say in unison, pushing their chairs back. Carter waves at the table, but Adam takes a moment to hug his dad around the neck, kiss his mom’s cheek, and blow a raspberry against Rosaline’s shoulder that has her shrieking a giggle. The silly man clasps the sides of his older brother’s head and plants a loud smacking kiss right on his crown. Dom huffs an aggravated sigh at the antics, but I see a smile peek through his put-upon grumpy expression. But he frowns for real when Adam kneels beside my chair, takes my hand, and presses a lingering kiss to the back of it.
“Maddie Sanderson. My queen. My autumn rose. My purple bathing suit—”
“No,” Dom says, reaching across my lap and extracting my hand from his little brother’s grip. “Go away.”
Adam clutches his chest dramatically, sends me a wink, then launches to his feet and jogs after Carter, who’s already halfway to the door.
Under the table, Dom keeps his fingers wrapped around my wrist.
“It’s still early, and I’ve got the day off,” Mr. Perry announces with a grin. “Let’s do something fun.”
Apparently fun means wandering around the UPenn campus and listening to Nathanial and Emilia’s college days anecdotes. Admittedly, they have some funny stories, and Mr. Perry’s charming attitude reminds me a lot of Adam’s. Emilia is more reserved, like Dom and Carter, but when she opens up, her humor is dry and witty.
Rosaline and Dom share some memories, too, both UPenn alumni as well. Josh attended Drexel, another Philly university close enough that he appears in a few of their stories.
When my brother’s name comes up, I lean closer, desperate for another piece of him.
But when Dom and Rosaline exchange smiles at shared recollections, I try to find something else to look at.
Eventually, we end up at a rooftop bar, Mr. Perry opening a tab and telling us to order whatever we want before pulling his wife onto the dance floor.
But all I want is a moment to practice some breathing exercises because my throat feels tight with an emotion I refuse to dig into. I order a soda water with lime and mentally list off the work tasks I need to complete tomorrow on the flight back to Seattle.
Dom excuses himself to the bathroom, and when Rosaline leans over the bar to order her drink, I mutter a quick “Going to get some air” and slip away to a glass door that leads to an open viewing deck.
Alone, finally, I hold my drink in one hand and place the other on my belly, practicing my diaphragmatic breathing. One technique of a handful my breathing specialist has coached me in for addressing my asthma with more than just medication. I scheduled a series of appointments with her in the lead-up to our Idaho trip.
“Hey, Maddie.” Rosaline appears beside me at the railing, and I try not to flinch away. “How are you doing?”
“Uh, fine.” I drop my hand, pretty sure I look weird during my exercises. “Good. Just, yeah. Fine and good.” When I speak to her, the ease of childhood familiarity is missing. She was close with Josh and Dom, but not me.
I can’t remove my cordial mask and show her my petty temper or even my snarky teasing side. Talking with Rosaline is like meeting with a helpful coworker who is better qualified for my job and likely to get it simply by existing.
Rosaline smiles, her eyes soft, and I can swear she sees right through me. “Okay.” She glances out over the city, then back at me. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here.” A little blush gives her face the perfect amount of color. “I know we don’t do that. Talk. But we could. If you want. Talk about J-Josh.” She stumbles over my brother’s name, and I clutch the cold glass of my drink, wishing I’d opted for booze. “It was nice today. Talking about him. We could do that.” Her manicured nails fiddle with the stem of her wineglass. “Tell stories about him or something. If that helps. To remember him.”
“Oh. Uh, thank you.” I swallow hard and breathe through my nose. “That’s…a kind offer.”
And it is. So fucking kind. Because that’s what Rosaline is. Kind and gracious and caring.
Which is one of the many reasons I find it so hard to be around her. Because with every sweet, thoughtful gesture she makes, I’m reminded of the surly, sarcastic troll person I am at my core.
Just the thought of reminiscing with her about my brother makes me queasy because I know most of her recollections will involve Dom, too. It was the three of them for years, best friends.
What good would those walks down memory lane do?
Remind me of all the times I didn’t see my brother?
Remind her of all the happy moments she spent with Josh and her ex-husband?
Maybe the diagnosis fractured something in their marriage, but I can’t get past the idea that one day, Rosaline will realize her mistake like she did that summer, show up on Dom’s doorstep, and he will take her back.
Excuse me if I don’t want to witness the moment she has that revelation.
“Hey, Maddie.” Dom’s voice pulls me out of my dark thoughts, and I turn to see him standing at the patio door. “I’m beat. You ready to head out?”
“Yes.” I try not to sound desperate, setting my drink down on an empty table and hurrying his way.
“Bye, Ros.” Dom nods to his ex-wife, using his cute nickname for her.
“See you, Dom,” she replies with warm affection in her voice. “Bye, Maddie. Please call me. If you want to talk.”
I nod and force a smile her way without meeting her eyes. Then I dodge around Dom, heading toward the exit. He catches up to me in two steps, placing his hand on my lower back.
“Are you alright?” he asks once we’re in his car. Dom makes no move to start driving, only waits for my response.
“Yep. Just tired.” I manage a yawn that I think is pretty convincing.
But then Dom continues to stare at me, and I know I didn’t fool him.
“Maddie,” he says, voice deep on my name, and I hear the hidden command to tell him what has me in a self-esteem nosedive.
“Dominic.” I mock him with an equally low delivery, trying to use snark to avoid what I cannot say.
Something shifts in the air between us, his attention more intense as he leans toward me. “I did not invite Rosaline,” Dom says, the words heavy between us. “My mom did. Because she knows even though we’re divorced, we still get along. There’s no betrayal or animosity. There’s friendship.”
“That’s good,” I grit out because logically I know it is. “That’s healthy.”
I’m the messed-up one. The dramatic, needy, insecure one.
Strong fingers cradle my chin, forcing our eyes to meet and hold.
“When you’re in the room,” he says, “you’re all I see.”
The repeated words from our South Dakota trip soften my rigid defenses, and suddenly I’m not thinking of anyone else. Just the two of us and how scared I am to let myself want Dominic Perry again.
How scared I am to believe him when he says he wants me.
“You’re all I see, too,” I admit.
Triumph flares in his eyes, and he claims my mouth with a stern kiss, almost a reprimand for doubting him. When we’re back at his house, in his bed, Dom’s body spoons me from behind. My leg is draped over his hip as he thrusts deep and groans my name into the back of my neck.
And I wonder if letting him into my heart again would be the ultimate act of bravery, or a desperate woman repeating the same mistakes of the past.