Page 135 of Kiss Me Tonight

I am emotionally drained.

Entirely distraught.

I’ve never, not once in ten years of operatingCelebrity Tea Presents,felt so out of sorts. (So out of sorts that I binge-watchedThe Notebookfifteen times in the last seventy-two hours, simply so I could feel better about the number of tissues I’ve used).

It must be said: I have never banned a celebrity from being discussed on my site. All tea is good tea. But this . . . DaSilva took it too far. The hate comments piling up from goddamn football fans is absolutely horrid, and I apologize to you, Dear Reader, for needing to disable all comments for the time being.

I hope you understand my pain.

Before I crawl back over to the TV to watchThe Notebookfor a sixteenth time, I have only a few choice words to say:

Fuck you, Dominic DaSilva.

We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming next week.

Epilogue

Aspen

One Month Later

“Andthen, the terrifying beast rose up from the lake and looked at the woods and thought . . . I smell them. The rotting stench of football, and I shall eat one of you!” Matthew Wilde throws up a pair of “claws” and growls like he’s the savage beast from his story.

Feeling the heat from the bonfire on my face, I hide a laugh as the boys all start to grumble their disappointment.

“Dude,that’sall you’ve got?” Kevin shouts from the other side of the fire.

“I think I just peed myself,” Timmy says, jumping up from the log he’s been perched on for the last forty minutes. He cups his crotch crassly. “Just kidding! No pee. For real, Wilde, that was pitiful.”

Matthew, being the good soul that he is, points one of his Party City claws at Tim. “Myscary story was pitiful? Bro, you burped out the chorus to theTwilighttheme song.”

I raise my s’mores cooking stick in the air. “I thought it was scary.”

Heat that has nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with Dominic warms me from the inside out as he uses the evening light to his advantage and slips a hand between my tightly clamped thighs. “You think everything’s scary,” he rumbles out, his chin coming very close to perching on my shoulder. “Ferris wheels, sharks, bears—speaking of bears . . .” He shifts away to call out, “Gloria, will you wrangle the teens into the bunks with Meredith? I need to ask Coach Levi to look over something for me.”

Aunt Gloria, who has become somewhat of a beloved secretarial assistant since Harry moved in with her, bobs her head. “You got it, boss.”

Dominic nudges me in the side. “See?” he taunts, and though the night sky hides his upper face, I know he’s laughing at me. “She calls me boss. Aunt Gloria knows what’s up.”

“Aunt Gloria,” I say, rolling my eyes, “also likes the cash you slip her every week to help care for Harry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Except that he totally does.

The police found Heather Blackwater in a halfway home down in Portland two weeks ago, and though Dominic tries to brush it all off as a concern that isn’t ours, it’s impossible to miss the way he’s firmly planted himself in Harry’s life. He pays Gloria for all of Harry’s football gear and never misses the opportunity to bring Harry to practice when his great-aunt can’t do so herself. He stopped all work on his house to bring in Nick Stamos and his crew and direct them to Gloria’s place for some remodeling.

Dominic isn’t taking any risks with Harry, and at least three times a week, the redheaded teenager is over at our house and hanging out with Topher.

My heart squeezes at the thought of my son, and I scour the kids all gathered around the fire to find him. He’s sitting with his legs crossed at the ankles, his chin resting on his bent knees. The matter with Rick dampened his bright smile—particularly when Rick gave up all parental custody to me—but we’re working to bring back his pep.

Dominic, especially.

Following practice, they spend their days swimming in the bay and playing basketball out on the street. They binge Netflix shows that I have no interest in watching—moto gearheads are not my thing—and I’ve walked into the living room multiple times to see my son passed out on one side of the couch and Dominic sleeping on the other.

As if sensing my stare, Topher lifts his head and catches my eye.

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