Page 14 of Starts With a Bang

“Live in a sprawling mansion, do you?”

I snorted. “No, but the refrigerator feels like a long way off after I’ve drowned my sorrows.”

“Why are you home on a Saturday night?” Dom asked.

“I’m home every night.”

“Okay, why are you home alone on Saturday night?”

“Because the guy I want doesn’t want me back,” I replied. “Whew. This truth serum is serious shit.”

Dom laughed. “Truth serum. Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Label said it’s a rosé wine, but it feels too potent for that.” I giggled. “Maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten much today.”

“Do you want me to come over?” Dom asked.

“No. Not when you offer out of pity. I need you towantto be here.” I hiccuped again. “Does that make sense?”

“Actually, yes.” Dom sighed. “I want to be there. More than you know. I shouldn’t tell you this. Not after what you said in your last text.”

“What did I say?”

“You said you’d been mooning over me and you needed to get out and meet other people. I shouldn’t interfere with that.”

I snorted. “That was months ago. Guess how many new people I’ve met?”

“I don’t want to know,” Dom said.

“Zero. I tried. I really did. I only want you. Miss you so damn much.”

“Sven.”

“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t pity me. Just tell me what you think I shouldn’t know.”

“That I miss you too. I pick up my phone to text you multiple times a day. I think about you until it becomes a physical ache. But I’m not in the right headspace to give you what you deserve. I am the sad sack Kerry doesn’t want you to be around. I don’t know what your history is, but I don’t want to hurt you. And it feels like it’s already too late.”

“I mend broken hearts,” I said. “That’s my superpower. I attract men who’ve been shattered, and I put them back together—piece by piece—until they’re whole again. And they always end up going back to the person who broke them in the first place, and I’m the one left in pieces in the end.”

“They’re fools,” Dom said. “Each and every one of them.”

“Or maybe I’m the one who is fucked-up and just don’t know it.”

“No way,” Dom replied.

“You don’t know me.”

“Wrong. You’re beautiful and so fucking special.”

When the first tears fell, I knew it was time to cut the call short. “I’m sorry I drunk texted you.”

“I’m not sorry, but I thought you said you weren’t drunk.”

“Tipsy texted, then. I’m going to make the long journey into the kitchen and make myself something to eat.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

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