Page 38 of Hold Me Today

Even when we were filmingPut A Ring On Itover the fall into early winter, there was never any doubt that, next to Savannah Rose, Dominic DaSilva was man of the hour.

There wasn’t a date he didn’t score, a challenge he didn’t win, a friend he didn’t make. The other guys in the mansion swarmed to his side like locusts, and every one of them had something to offer to the former NFL player.

“You know,” one of the guys said, “I got this badass bachelor’s pad up in Manhattan. When we get out of here, you should totally come and hang out.”

Another one, a doctor, praised Dom every chance he got: “Dude, if I had arms evenhalfthe size of yours, I never would have needed to come on this show. Talk about a chick magnet. Girlslovearm porn.”

There were only two of us who hadn’t kissed Dom’s ass and offered him our dicksandfirstborns: a tattooed, bearded dude named Owen-something-or-other. He was sent home on the very first night, much to the delight of every other guy in the house. Never let it be said that men can’t turn into catty assholes—not a single person was sad to see Owen go after the first ring ceremony.

And then there was me, the other non-ass-kisser.

“It can’t be that bad, man,” I tell America’s favorite bachelor over the phone now, using my shoulder to keep the phone pressed to my ear as I sit on my mom’s balcony, beer bottle clasped in one hand. It’s February in Boston and my balls would be playing hibernation, if it weren’t for the heating lamps I installed out here a few years back. One of the best decisions I made for the remodel of my parent’s place. “Are they looking in your window, trying to get a free view of the goods?”

Dom snorts derisively in my ear. “You want to trade places?”

Beer bottle to my mouth, I take a long pull. Then, “You think they can handle that? One of us is well-hung, DaSilva, and it ain’t you.”

“Asshole,” he grunts, even though I can hear his low chuckle. “Not all of us can be a pretty boy like you.”

“And it’s all natural, too. A gift from the gods.” I lean back in the Adirondack chair, bottle resting on the armrest. Warmth toasts my scalp and shoulders. I would have had this conversation inside, but my mom is bustling around the house, preparing everything for the family dinner. Including for some girl she wants me to meet. As if I haven’t gone on enough blind dates to last me a million years. “Don’t be jealous.”

“Only thing I’m jealous of is the fact that you’re being left alone. OneTMZarticle and you’re flying clear while I get the shit end of the stick.”

“No one told you to catch balls for a living.”

“Jesus, did you have to put it that way?” A low groan echoes over the phone, and I can practically see the guy banging his head on a wall. There’s a clear-as-daythunkand I bite back a grin. “You think Savannah is getting it worse than us?”

Any worry that I’ll feel like shit at him mentioning Savannah Rose disintegrates instantaneously. I made the right decision in letting her go, even if I ended up looking like the idiot on national television as a result. It was worth it, to make sure she came out unscathed. It’s not her fault I didn’t feel the chemistry between us.

But even thoughIdidn’t want to marry her, doesn’t mean Dom didn’t . . . or doesn’t still want to, I’m not sure.

Knowing that he probably won’t want to air his feelings but going for it anyway, I ask, “You good, man? I know you liked her a lot.”

Silence greets me, and then I hear shuffling on the other end of the line. “Sometimes what we want and what happens aren’t the same thing. Not the first time I wanted a girl who didn’t want me back.”

“Really?” Because I want to make him laugh, I go for sarcasm. “You mean this isn’t the first time your heart’s been broken?” I mock-gasp like an asshole. “Someone actually turned your arm-porn down?”

I get the result I’m looking for, and he barks out a sharp laugh. “Smartass. And, full confession here, because I think you’re an okay guy who’s not gonna sell me out, I haven’t been turned down since high school.”

“Welcome to the land of mortals. We’re experiencing a cold front—hell hath frozen over now that the infamous Dominic DaSilva has joined us.”

“I mean, at least I haven’t been left at the altar like someone I know?”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Savannah knew what she was doing when she turned you down. Total prick.”

“Correction,bigprick. Massive. The biggest one there is.”

“Andnowit’s clear why she said no. Sometimes there isa thing called too big.”

“Says the guy with the micro-penis,” Dom chimes in.

I roll my eyes, then take another pull of the beer. “Envy isn’t a good look on you,maláka.”

“Don’t say sweet-nothings in my ear, Nicky. You’ll just give me the wrong idea.”

We both know that the Greek translation for “maláka”isn’t, and will never be, classified as a sweet-nothing. Idiot. Fucker. The exact definition depends on the inflected tone, but even so, it’s no “sweetheart,” that’s for sure.

Sitting up, I swing my legs down from the footrest to the old-paneled floorboards. I bought this house for my parents two years after starting Stamos Restoration. Neither my mom nor dad wanted it at first. They put up a fight, dug in their heels, but I didn’t let up. They’d had me less than a year after immigrating to America, and though Dad finally opened his pizza place and Ma worked at a hair salon, the odds were stacked against them from the beginning. I was born, thenYiayiaand my grandfathercame to America, too. They moved in with us, and if the apartment wasn’t tight enough already with five people, then came Effie. My parents deserve it all, and if I could give them the world, I would. Anything to make their lives easier, especially after everything they sacrificed and gave up for the sake of Effie and me.

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