Page 38 of Loss and Damages
I lean into the couch, positioning my legs between us, my toes brushing his knee. “I wasn’t in love with Leo. What about you? You’ve never fallen in love? You’ve never given your heart to someone?”
He finishes his wine and holds out the glass. “Will you pour me more? I’m afraid if I try to stand I’ll fall over.”
“Answer the question and I’ll pour you a bit more. Then you should rest. The couch won’t be comfortable with your arm like that. You can sleep in my bed.”
“With you?”
He’s too hurt to try anything, and last night he proved he could be a gentleman. “If you’d like.”
“Your trust in me is stupid.”
“You trust me, or you wouldn’t have come out here hurt. You wouldn’t have been able to drive back to the city, not with how you’re feeling.”
His jaw tightens.
“You’re tired. Another half a glass, then you should rest.”
“What about your question?”
“Dominic, if you’ve had your heart broken, maybe it’s best I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not the one who will fix it. Be right back.”
I pour wine into his glass but he’s barely awake enough to drink it and I leave it on the counter. Nudging the shoulder of his arm that’s not injured, I say, “Come on, it’s time to get you to bed.”
He staggers to his feet, leaning on me, and I need all my strength to keep him upright. What with the pain pill, the booze, and how tired he is, it’s a miracle he can stumble down the hallway to the bedroom without falling flat on his face. He drops onto my bed.
“Do you need help getting undressed?”
“No. I have movement in my arm. The sling eases the pressure, that’s all.”
“Okay. The bathroom’s through there, and, ah, you can use my toothbrush if you want to brush your teeth. I don’t ever have visitors that spend the night and Leo, never, well, you know. If you need anything else, I’ll be in the kitchen. I have a few things I have to do before I go to bed.”
Instead of scurrying away like the coward I am, I kneel at his feet and pull off his shoes. He settles on the bed wearing his clothes and he’s snoring by the time I reach the bedroom door. I fill his empty water glass and set another pain pill on the nightstand in case he wakes in the middle of the night in pain.
I thought I’d feel insulted that he came to me, freely admitting he had nowhere else to go, but I’m strangely proud that despite his confession, he chose me. There’s no doubt in my mind that Dominic Milano has a little black book that’s not so little and any woman on any page would have sold her soul to have him pass out in her bed. He has plenty of places to go, but he wasn’t lying when he told me he didn’t. What he meant was he didn’t have anyone he could ask for help who cared.
And the fact that he could see I did is very, very troubling.
I try to do what I normally do on a Saturday evening. I put in a load of clothes and towels hoping Dominic will sleep through the spin cycle, and I carry a glass of wine out to the porch and watch the sun dip below the horizon as the lake ripples in the light breeze.
Gloria hasn’t been by for the past couple of days, and I’m grateful for the peace and quiet but a little worried, too. I haven’t visited her shop in some time and I should one of these days tosee if she’s made any changes. It’s difficult to find a few minutes when our stores are open the same hours and up until Leo’s death, he’d taken all my spare time. It’s a little disconcerting that the second Leo passed away Dominic stepped into his place, but it won’t last. He’s dealing with the loss the only way he knows how...by spending time with someone who also cared about Leo. I can’t let myself get too comfortable. He’ll disappear into the pages of his business deals and little black book, and I’ll be left facing another loss all over again.
I have a lot of sympathy for Dominic but that’s all it can be.
To distance myself, I spend the rest of the night in my workshop finishing a decorative serving platter and listening to the music Leo preferred when he painted. I can’t let his death distract me from my work. I had a good sales day today and if I don’t start putting in serious time, I’m going to run low. That’s never a good thing.
Because I can sleep in, I spend more time than usual in my workshop, and I don’t stop until after one in the morning. The cottage is quiet when I let myself in, and Dominic is right where I left him, dressed and lightly snoring, his lips parted, the side of his face pressed into the pillow.
If we were together, I could ease onto the bed, kiss along his jaw, his stubble scratching my skin. Maybe I’d rouse him enough he would cover my mouth with his, roll me onto my back, and press one long leg between my thighs. Even hurt, I bet he could knock a woman senseless, his fingers alone skilled at bringing her to orgasm in record time.
It’s been a long while since I’ve been with someone, and my nipples harden, but intimacy between Dominic and me would be meaningless and I’m getting old enough that I want more.
Sex is lovely, but have you ever fell heart-shatteringly, irrevocably in love?
I can’t say that I have, but I’d like to. Some day.
