Grace: Why don’t you come to visit? I can ask Dominik. Or maybe I can meet you somewhere. It’s been months since we’ve seen each other. I miss you.
I watch as she reads the message, and this time, it takes longer than usual before she replies.
Ciara: I’m busy right now. Maybe in a month or two?
I stare at the messages, and I don’t like how short her messages are.
Grace: Is everything okay?
Ciara: Yes!!! Totally. I’m just getting ready to go out and have friends waiting. I’ll talk to you later.
Grace: I love you. Please consider visiting. I would love to see you.
My last message goes unread, and my heart breaks a little.
“What’s wrong?” Dominik growls, making my head snap up.
I let out a sigh and set my phone down. “I just chatted with Ciara.”
“And?” he asks as he moves closer, his eyes searching my face.
“It just feels like we’re drifting apart.” I shake my head. “I’m always the one who has to reach out to her.”
He takes hold of my arm and pulls me into a hug. Pressing a kiss to my hair, he says, “It happens,moja láska.People get busy with their own lives, and when you look again, months or years have passed.”
I’m probably overreacting. Ciara’s a big girl. She deserves to have her own life filled with happiness.
“You’re right,” I mutter, then I glance up at Dominik. “Hold me tighter. I need love.”
His body folds around mine, and he presses a couple of kisses to my hair. “I love you. You’re the most important person to me.”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “And?”
“If I lost you, I’d probably become a serial killer.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re already one,” I chuckle. “You’ve definitely killed more than two people.”
“That was before you came along. I haven’t taken any assassination jobs since we got married.”
“That’s right.” I tilt my head backward to look up at him. “I’m a good influence on you.”
“You are,” he murmurs before giving me a kiss on the mouth. “Something smells good.”
“Dinner.” I pull away from him, and walking to the oven, I pull it open and quickly peek inside.
“Next time wait for the steam to leave the oven before moving so close. I don’t want you to burn yourself,” he says in a tone that makes it sound like an order.
“Okay.”
When I reach for the oven mitts, he swipes them off the counter and says, “I’ll take it out. You get our plates ready and grab water for us.”
“My protective hermit,” I chuckle.
While Dominik cuts the chicken, I carry our utensils and water out to the veranda and set it on the table.
When I head back inside, Dominik calls out, “Do you want both wings, Grace?”
I walk into the kitchen and scowl at him. “Why are you calling me Grace?”