Page 78 of Loss and Damages
“He’s asking me to do the impossible. I don’t want to let him down.”
“Are you talking about the homeless shelter?”
“Yes. He wants the land, and I can’t tell him no. I don’t want it, Jemma, we can do without it, but he’s testing me.”
He rests his forehead against mine, and I lay my hand on the nape of his neck, his hair tickling my skin.
“What would it cost you to fail?”
He lifts his head and stares at me, his dark brown eyes drilling into my soul, demanding why I would be foolish enough to ask.
“Everything.”
I pull him down to my chest, his heart beating rapidly against mine.
Praying he doesn’t hate me, I whisper, “Are you sure?”
The sun starts to set, and we walk back to my cottage, our fingers linked.
He didn’t blow up the way I thought he would, but he did stop speaking in favor of kissing me. I couldn’t complain (and didn’t), but I knew what he was doing. In the middle of an earth-shattering kiss, he looked over my head into a copse of trees and said, “We need to go.” I don’t know what he saw, but he quicklypulled me to my feet, folded the blanket, and we were across the park before I could object.
I needed all my patience and trust not to ask. If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me.
Expecting him to turn me down, I ask if he wants to stay and have coffee and dessert, but to my surprise, he accepts, and we sit on the porch, our conversation in fits and starts as the stars appear and the lake water brushes the shore.
When my plate’s holding only a few crumbs of vanilla cheesecake and my coffee cup’s empty, I stretch and say, “I should probably go to bed.”
Dominic’s slouched in his rocking chair, his eyes closed, his foot gently pushing him back and forth. “Are you asking me to leave?”
I thought he would want to. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Not at this minute.”
I huff a laugh, pleased he’ll share my bed for a little while. “Then you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”
He sits on the couch and flips through theHollow Lake Gazettewhile I straighten up, do a few dishes, and fill the coffeemaker so I don’t have to do it in the morning. He offers to do something, but I wave him off. He’s a guest and doesn’t need to help me putter around. I like having him in my cottage, and I caution myself. This isn’t permanent. We’ve talked a lot about babies and marriage, but he’s never given me any promises, any indication that this is somehow going to be a long-term thing.
I have to keep my expectations at a minimum. At least then I can’t get hurt.
He climbs into bed naked, and after brushing my teeth and the snarls out of my hair, I follow. I’m not opposed to some middle-of-the-night lovemaking, but we really will end up with a baby if we don’t start using protection. We need to talk about his lack of using condoms or I need to take responsibility formy own body and make a gynecologist appointment, but we’ve already had sex once today and when he wraps his arms around me, I eagerly let him have me.
I fall asleep, my head on his chest, his fingers twisted in my hair.
He wakes me at seven, still in my bed, and despite all the warnings I’ve told myself, hope blooms in my heart.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dominic
The sun’s buttery glow sneaks past Jemma’s window blinds, and the light kisses her face. She’s beautiful, her dark hair in a tangle around her head, one hand tucked under her cheek. Her skin is peaches and cream, her lips a lush red, still swollen from when I made love to her early this morning. She let me go bare.
I blow out a breath and brush a piece of hair off her cheek. I want her to carry my babies, but this isn’t the way. I’m being stupid and selfish, and I admit one of the reasons why I come inside her is because Leo never loved her that way, never claimed her as his. He never woke up to her, never brought her coffee in bed as she drifted from sleep to wakefulness, blinking the sun out of her eyes.
Leo’s dead and everything is still a competition.
Even when there is none.
Like our mother’s love and attention. He’d already won, and so I chased my father’s, winning a prize Leo didn’t need or want.
