Page 57 of Kiss Me Tonight

He quirks a single brow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” When I pull my hand away from his leg, his gaze tracks my retreat, and I wish—seriouslywish—his expressions were more transparent. I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking right now. “The quiet means safety,” I tell him, hands tucked together in my lap. “Predictability means you’ve reached a point in your life where you feel good about who you are, who you’re with.”

His lips part. “Levi . . .”

I squeeze my eyes shut against the disappointment of being back where we started this conversation.

Not friends.

Not anything more.

Levi.

You’d think I would be used to it all by now.

Eyes still closed, I go on, revealing more of myself than I have to anyone in years. “Predictability means not jumping every time you hear a door slam shut or see a number you don’t recognize calling your husband’s cell phone. It means that your son—the one person in your life who you would die to protect—no longer cries at night because his father is an asshole who wouldn’t know love if it bit him in the balls.”

“Jesus fuck.”

The first time I heard Dominic use that particular four-letter soundtrack in that cool, unfeeling voice of his, it shocked me right out of my skin. It’s not unfeeling right now. Not even a little. I hear the emotion quaking to life, like a volcano ready to erupt.

Ragged.

Angry.

I pop up off the Adirondack chair, needing space between us.

Space between me and the place of my confession.

You need to breathe. That too. Talking about Rick isn’t nearly the same as living in the same house as him—I don’t need to mind my opinionated tongue or look over my shoulder every time I hear his voice echo in the house. I don’t need to wait until I’m in my car, with the locks activated, until I give into the tears. No, talking about Rick isn’t nearly the same as being stuck with him but that doesn’t mean my heart isn’t racing or that I don’t feel the least bit lightheaded from the memories.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I’m grateful for divorce attorneys.

I’m grateful for little hometowns that feel like sanctuaries.

I’m grateful for being strong enough to have this conversation with Dominic and not outwardly break down.

“Thank you for hanging out with Topher today.” I glance at him over my shoulder before I tuck my laptop under my arm for safekeeping. “I know he probably appreciated it more than he’ll ever admit out loud.”

Because Rick never took Topher mini-golfing. Hell, he can barely remember to call his only son now that we’re well outside Pittsburgh city limits.

Slowly, like a panther unfurling in the wild just before it launches at its prey, Dominic rises to his full height. “The feeling’s mutual,” he husks out. “He’s a good kid.”

“He’s the best kid.”

“I won’t deny that. Levi, I—”

“It’s okay.” I flash him a bright grin that I so wish I felt to the depths of my soul. “I didn’t open up because I expected you to have something to add back, but I just . . . Well, I wanted you to step in my shoes, too. Predictability isn’t always bad. It doesn’t always mean that you’re somehow failing or that your ambition has taken a walk and left you out in the cold.”

“I see that.” He steps close, eliminating the distance between us until he’s not even a hand’s width away from me. “You made me see that.”

His fingers curl up, the backs of his knuckles hovering a hair’s breadth away from my face.

And Ibreathe.

In and out, like I haven’t sucked in real oxygen in years.

---