Page 98 of Loss and Damages
She’s sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, a glass of wine in her hand. Looking off to the side, she doesn’t see me as I come around the gallery and walk into her yard. I watch her dry her tears. She’s crying and it hurts I’m the cause, but her tears give me hope. She’s missed me.
The wine tells me something else—our intimacy last month didn’t result in a baby. I’m relieved, in a way. I want to marry her first, enjoy her, before we start a family, though if she said I’d gotten her pregnant, I would have been happy.
I step forward, and my movement catches her attention.
She sets the wineglass on the little table next to her rocker and her eyes never leave mine as I shuffle through the grass to the porch.
Light pink flowers that match the roses in my hand decorate her cream sundress, and her hair is loose around her shoulders. She’s beautiful, and she’s mine.
Slowly, I walk up the steps, and she licks her lips.
My own tears scratch my throat and the speech I tried to memorize evaporates like a mist in the rising sun.
Pain swamps me, and loss.
Leo, my mother, my father. All I have left is this woman staring at me and the one lesson she wanted me to learn: it costs nothing to be kind, and when you are, the rewards are too rich to count. To live decently, to think of others. To do the right thing and to help when you’re able. I have billions of dollars and I can change the lives of so many people, but I didn’t see the value in that, didn’t care about the value in that. If I had, Leo would still be here, like Jemma who promised me she would wait, and shedid. Love is patient, love is kind, and no one is kinder or more patient than she is.
In front of her rocker, I fall to my knees, and she holds out her arms. The floodgates burst open, and dropping the bouquet of flowers, I press my face to her belly.
She wraps her arms around me, and I cry.
She lets me sob, and the front of her dress is damp when I lift my head. “Thank you for waiting.”
Using the hem of her skirt, she dries my cheeks. “Of course. I love you.”
“Jemma, I haven’t always been a good man. I’ve done things out of callousness and greed. I’ve done things with the intent of adding to my bank account and only that. I’ve hurt people. Because of the way I did business, Leo’s dead.” Kneeling in front of her, I tell her what William Kidder confessed. “I’ll understand if you can’t be with me.”
“What did your father say about your plans for the homeless shelter and the 1100 block?” she asks instead, and I have to bite my tongue to keep my temper in check. My father has nothing to do with this.
“He said he wouldn’t work with me anymore. Signed the company over to me and retired. He and his mistress are boating around the world.”
“And your mother? Where is she?”
“I don’t know.” It’s all I can say. I don’t know where my mother went after she moved her things out of the penthouse. She never reached out to tell me and I never contacted her to ask.
Jemma leans forward and brushes her fingers over my jaw that’s covered in a short beard. I haven’t had the energy to shave. “Then I think you’ve sacrificed enough. I’d rather give than take.”
“What are you saying?” My heart slams against my ribs. Her answer means everything, is worth everything, to me.
“It’s not my place to punish you for Leo’s death. Those two men wanted to harass you, and Leo got caught up in it. That’s no one’s fault, Dominic. The court will give them what they deserve,” she says, rubbing my arm where my gunshot wound is still healing. “The only thing I want to do is love you. Show you, every day, through words, through actions, through loyalty and devotion. If you’ll have me.”
I hold her hands. They’re warm and dry, steady. She’s been ready for this long before I was. “What if I’m still not the kind of man you need me to be?”
“Then we’ll work on it. Together.”
“You really mean that, don’t you?” My knees hurt, but I don’t mind. I’m too caught up in the promises in Jemma’s brilliant blue eyes to care about anything but sharing the next fifty years with this spectacular woman.
“I really mean it, but there are things we’re going to have to figure out before you ask me to marry you.”
I want to promise her the moon if it means she’d never leave, but I would never beg her to stay. I’ve learned the only reason someone should be in your life is because they love you and want to be there. Even if that means they show their true feelings and walk away, like my mother and father did. It’s better to know and to be alone. But with Jemma in my life, I never will be. She loves me, and she’s proven it since the day we met. The small box is in the pocket of my slacks, and I pull it out. She reaches for it, but I yank it away. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Jemma. I’m willing to compromise.”
“I don’t want to give up my gallery or my workshop. You have to work in the city, but—”
“I don’t want you to give up your gallery and I don’t want you to stop painting. I hate my penthouse and I don’t want to live there anymore. It was never home, not like the one I want to build with you. Will you trust me if I tell you we can make those kinds of decisions later?”
She nods and reaches for the box again. I let her have it, and she flips the lid open revealing a small, square princess-cut diamond sitting on a platinum band. I had to guess her size, but there’s time to have it fitted if need be.
“Dominic, it’s beautiful.”
