Page 76 of Loss and Damages
“I missed you. I’m so tired, Jemma.”
I drag a pillow from the head of the bed, and we share it while we talk. “Things aren’t going well.”
“No. Yes, but things are . . . when did life become so complicated?”
I don’t want him to mean when he fell in love with me. My love shouldn’t be a complication.
Choosing my words carefully, I say, “Sometimes when you want the wrong things, life can seem complicated. When your heart and your instincts tell you to stop, but you keep going for other reasons, you know?”
“What if I have to do the wrong thing to earn the right thing?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. The purchase of the homeless shelter, maybe, or maybe something more personal.
“Then you have to ask yourself if what you think is the right thing is really the right thing. Are you talking about me because I was friends with Leo?”
“No.”
Relief rushes through me and I fall silent. I don’t want to be a wrong thing. I want to be his right choice. He closes his eyes and dozes and I memorize the sharp planes of his face in case he disappears on me again. The past few days have been hard on him, and I smooth my finger over the new lines that bracket his eyes and the downward slope of his lips that are in danger of turning into a perpetual frown.
I don’t want to interrupt our quiet moment, but my stomach rumbles. I’m hungry, and I usually eat around this time.
“I’m keeping you from dinner,” he says, his eyes fluttering open.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. You caught me just as I was closing up.”
His eyes grow hazy as he stares at me, and he props his head on his hand. “I should feed you.”
“That would be nice.”
He sighs. “A question first, if you don’t mind?”
“Okay.”
“Has someone ever given you an ultimatum?”
“Ultimatums come from people who don’t know how to compromise, or they think what they believe is right over everyone else’s wants and needs. My brother told me he doesn’t want me to see you anymore, and if I do, he won’t let me spend time with my niece. I suppose you can consider that an ultimatum, but I don’t think he was serious. He’s not like that.”
“What if hewaslike that? What would you do?”
“What’s this about?”
“I can’t tell you or you’ll only tell me what you think I want to hear. I want to know what you would do. If I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes? If I said, ‘Jemma. I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone. I never want you to leave me. Marry me.’ With what your brother said to you, what would you say?”
I want to hear those words, desperately, but because of the way things are, I know what my answer would be. I get off the bed, find my panties on the floor, and pull them on. I’m wet and could use a visit to the bathroom, but I want to answer him first. “I can’t lie to you, Dominic. The reason he doesn’t want me to see you anymore is because of the way you do business. The 1100 block, Oakdale Square, and Nick told me yesterday there are rumors you’re looking into buying the biggest homeless shelter in St. Charlotte. I agree with my brother, and if you were really proposing, I would only say yes if I could convince you to do things differently.”
“Then you would choose family over love.”
“I would choose my moral compass over your love and the love I have for you. Some things are easy to overlook, like not holding the door open for the person behind you or not tipping enough, though those things can be small issues that turn into bigger problems. If he asked me to stop seeing you because you’re rich or because he didn’t like that you’re Italian, then I would tell him to fuck off because those things don’t define who you are.”
He sits up and holds out his arms in invitation, and I step between his thighs. He’s in so much pain, and I wish he’d tell me why.
“What if we didn’t work out?” He cups my face in his warm palms and brushes his thumbs over my cheeks. “What if you told your brother to fuck off, and then we didn’t work. What then?”
“I’d rather be alone. It’s easy to say that, but if my brother was that unkind and unreasonable, I wouldn’t want to be around him anyway. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
He nudges me closer, and I step forward until my thighs are pressed against the edge of the mattress. “Would you believe me, right now, if I told you how much I love you?”
It’s in his eyes, it’s in his touch, and I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
