Page 109 of Cherry Auction

I sigh. At least she hasn’t come out before I’ve really told him about her. Thank god for small mercies. “I tend to switch a lot at night, and sometimes during therapy sessions.”

Domhnall just stares at me a long moment before slowly nodding and swallowing.

I’m startled when plates are suddenly set down on the table in front of us.

“Here we have a burrata with heirloom tomatoes!” the waiter announces cheerily, apparently undeterred by Domhnall’s bear-like treatment a few minutes ago. “It’s drizzled with premium olive oil and an aged balsamic. Enjoy!”

He does scramble away fairly quickly, but I’m left staring at Domhn, holding my breath as I wait for his reaction.

“Well, we always knew this was a possibility, right?” He blinks slowly like he’s trying to wrap his head around what I’ve just told him.

I want to cry. Oh god. Why did I think waiting to tell him until we were on our first date at this ridiculously fancy restaurant was the way to go? I mean, sure I didn’t know he was bringing mehere. Still, I should have told him the first night at the hotel.

Or the second night. We talked a little then. But I just babbled on and on, about Chicago pizza, and Ria and her mom, and getting my first real job working as a library aid at the public library, and how modern libraries are more of a locus point of public services than strictly being about books these days and?—

I breathe out. “Well yeah, but I just sorta hoped she’d go away. It doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, though.”

I grab some of the bread that was set on the table with the wine and pull off a chunk. Then I use my fork to awkwardly cut off some of the gooey burrata and wrangle it onto my bread, then shove it into my mouth.

“Does that…” Domhn starts before cutting himself off. “I mean, is that, okay? If she’s still there inside? Is the therapy, like… I mean, are you still trying to get rid of her?”

I shake my head, mouth still stuffed full of bread and cheese. I lift my napkin to cover my mouth so he can’t see as I talk through the mouthful. “It’s fine.” I chew some more and swallow, then reach for my cup of wine to wash it down. I take too big a sip and almost choke, my face contorting at the strong wine.

“Ugh.” I shudder. Why does fancy wine always taste so awful? I grab the glass of ice water to wash the taste of the wine out of my mouth. “Fuck, don’t tell me how expensive that god-awful wine is or I’ll cry.”

Domhn bursts out with a hearty laugh. Then he gets up and drags his heavy wooden chair around the table so he’s sitting beside me.

“What are you doing?” I look around, slightly scandalized. “This is a fancy place. You can’t just go around moving their furniture.”

“I can if it gets me closer to you.” He wraps an armaround my waist. “Tell me more. I want to know everything. And when can I arrange a meeting with her?”

“God, Domhn, you don’twantto meet her!”

“Why not? Does she not like me?”

I bite my bottom lip. “It’s um… complicated.” I know he needs to meet her. I don’t know why I’m putting it off.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Oh now I really want to know. Spill the tea, love.”

I huff out a breath and now my cheeks are heating for an entirely different reason. Fuck this is hard talking about to anyone besides my therapist. And most especially to Domhn.

But I finally try. “We’re both…me, deep down inside. So we both,” I look up and meet his gaze, that intensity that always burns between us roiling straight down to my tummy. “We both love you.”

Now both his eyebrows lift. “Really? How… does that work?”

I swallow. Fuck, why is my mouth so dry? I reach for my water glass and take another drink. “I mean, seriously, I’m not exactly sure how. Sometimes we share memories and sometimes we don’t. But c’mon, Domhn. There’s no part of me that wouldn’t love you. So of course she does.”

He frowns. “But it was…herwho wanted you to leave last year, wasn’t it?”

“She knew we weren’t ready. She considers it her job to protect me. And maybe she was right.” I immediately see disagreement on his face so I barrel on. “I mean, I think wewould’ve torn each other apart. This shit I’m dealing with in my head,” I tap the side of my temple, “it’s not always pretty or cut and dry. I think I needed that time in Chicago, healing and learning to stand on my own two feet.”

I reach out a hand to cup his face. “I love you, but I can’t find my wholeness in you. You can never be my other half. You can be my other whole. But each of us have to bear our own shit.”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “I fucking hate that. I want to carry everything for you.”

Tears crest in my eyes, because it has been ahardfucking year and there were so many times I wanted to throw in the towel and just be kitty with my owner carrying the difficult load again while I curled up with no cares in the world, oblivious.

But that can only be in play. Not my day to day.

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