Page 117 of Always You
He smiles, showing all his white teeth. I melt all over again for this beast of a man. “Don’t be. My brothers are horn dogs. Well, Santiago is,” he says as he waves his hand like it’s no big deal his brothers heard me scream bloody murder.
An hour later, two casseroles of green and red enchiladas, rice, and beans are ready. Liam and Sophie show up. She proclaims they’re not seeing each other. She says they're just friends, I find it hard to believe. I know they are both attracted to each other. But then again, they are both anti-relationships. So, who knows?
I thought my best friend would be heartbroken that I moved out of our place. However, I think she is happy to have her privacy with Liam or whoever, since she still sees guys on dating apps.
* * *
We sit at the table like a big, happy family, holding onto one another for support. It’s been rough on the guys. Dominic and his brothers occasionally appear to be in a fog. I hate they are going through this. I hate that it was his mother who killed my parents. I would never have thought she killed my parents; my father never mentioned my mom knew Rachel.
I find it hard to believe my father had a thing for Rachel; perhaps it was all an illusion in Rachel's head. My father would never commit to a relationship with someone who knew my mom. He adored my mother.
I’m still trying to wrap it all together. Dominic and I, as babies, who would have thought? It’s so bizarre how obsessed she was with my father.
“Damn, these are so good,” Mark mumbles.
“How’s your girlfriend?” I ask Mark, making conversation.
“She’s good. She’s in Oregon visiting her sister.” Mark, being the youngest, I can tell he’s having a hard time with this. His beautiful boyish face has bags around his eyes.
Rachel’s hearing will be next week. I haven’t decided if I want to go. Dominic said he would go with me, but I feel it would be difficult for them. Dominic believes we all need to be there to move on. Maybe he’s right.
“Mom, do you have chips and hot salsa?” Dante inquires, his eyebrows knitting together.
“What is the need for hot salsa?” I ask.
He huffs dramatically. “Mom, Uncle Liam said hot salsa will give me a little hair on my chest.”
The entire table erupts in laughter. Dominic’s shoulders shake with laughter and tears. Dante always has a way of putting a smile on your face.
Santiago reaches for the tortilla chips, handing them to Dante. “Here you go, my favorite nephew, chips, and salsa.”
I smile as I watch Santiago interact with his nephew, scooping some rice into my mouth. I reach for Dominic’s hand under the table, intertwining our fingers. The conversation continues. We talk about what there is to do in Manhattan, and what Dante was like as a baby, the brothers mainly ask. They smile and laugh at the stories I tell. I see a pang of guilt in their eyes. I hate it. It’s not their fault. We all mask the pain we harbor. The night goes smoothly with just us three left.
My weight carries me to the sofa, where I lay down, feeling a little fatigued.
“Are you all right, Angel?”
“Yeah, I'm just tired. I’ve been feeling exhausted lately.” I yawn.
His thick, long, dark eyelashes flutter as his brown eyes darken with worry. His lips twist. “Maybe you’re getting sick, or just all this going on, baby, it’s wearing you out. I know it is wearing me out. Everything will get better, baby, I promise.”
I sigh tiredly. He kneels next to me on the sofa. He brushes his hand over my head. “I’m okay, just tired. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll always worry about you, baby. Take Dante to bed. I’ll clean up the kitchen and be up to take care of you. A warm shower or bath will help. Deal?”
My stomach flutters with the rumble of his voice. I gaze into his brown eyes, sharp jaw, and olive tan skin, his hair perfectly slicked, silk hair falls flawlessly to the side with a strand hanging down. His complete form is muscle. Dominic is utterly sexy as hell and a heart of gold just for me.Mine.
“Deal.”
I lean my head back in the big, oval bathtub. Dominic filled it with lavender bath bombs and it smells so good. I moan as he massages his masculine hands into my scalp.
“This feels good.”
He groans. “I can tell. You keep moaning. And now I have a major hard-on, my dick is hanging heavy, baby.” he says, sarcastically.
“Get in with me.”
“That can’t happen, Mila, I’m already losing it with your nipples peeking out from the foam, your leg draped over the tub. It’s like a sex fantasy.”
