Page 61 of Between Love and Loathing
“Since I was a teen.” I chuckled, trying to brush off his concern. It was the first concern I’d witnessed over my health in a while. I’d been the only one to go to the doctor, the only one to listen to the signs and pursue more tests, being the most concerned about the results.
“Everyone has ailments, Clara. We can’t worry about them now,” my mother had said over and over.
I got tired even thinking about that conversation.
“Did you ever get it checked out?”
“Dominic,” I glanced over my shoulder. “You do realize people have ailments they live with, right?” It was something my mother would have said, a way to downplay the truth, but I was facing it and handling it.
His face hardened, “You do realize if something’s wrong, you should be seeing a damn doctor?”
“I have and I do when necessary,” I shot back fast, somewhat defensive. And when he tried to say something else, I shook my head. “Leave it, Dominic. I take care of myself just fine.”
He hummed. “Maybe it’s time someone else starts taking care of you too.”
“I’mfine,” I reiterated and then I turned away. Owning it. Living with a disease meant learning to not dwell on it. I’d come to terms with what was healthy for me and moved forward with capturing the beauty of life rather than dwelling in the ugliness of it. Both actions took up the same amount of time, yet one was much brighter than the other.
Dominic would have done the same, which was why there was no use burdening him with it. “If you’re fine, then—”
“There’s towels in the bathroom if you want to shower,” I pointed at the bathroom and lifted a brow. We were changing the subject whether he liked it or not. His glare showed that he didn’t and I saw his brain working as he frowned then and stomped into the bathroom.
I went to the kitchen and started cooking, trying to shake off his concern, how he wanted to be more than most were to me, how he cared. When he entered the living room and walked over to the table, I set a plate of scrambled eggs and a cappuccino I’d whipped up with a dash of cinnamon on the dining room table for him. “You can stay as long as you’d like—”
“I’m coming with.”
“Um… what?” I asked, but Dominic was already scarfing down his eggs double time, not even taking a second to enjoy the taste. “What for?”
He mumbled around another mouthful, “You ready?”
“Do you always eat like that?” I needed to stop this. He needed to understand flavor if there was at all anything I could teach him.
“When we have somewhere to be, sure.” How did he still look good in yesterday’s suit? He’d lost the jacket and rolled up his sleeves, leaving one button undone, and it made him look disheveled but properly so. The veins of his forearms were on display under his sun-kissed skin with his massive hands that I knew were skilled at everything they did.
I snatched the plate back fast when his fork went to his mouth again. He lifted a brow. “Problem?”
“Can you sit down and just enjoy the food?”
“Am I bothering you by not?” One of his dimples showed up when the side of his mouth curved.
“I think it might be better if you take one extra minute and tell me what you taste in those eggs, Dominic.” I chewed my cheek, suddenly feeling like I shouldn’t have dictated how he ate my food.
“Hm.” He studied me. “You think or youknowit would be better, little fighter?”
Combing a hand through my hair, I busied myself with wiping down the counter before turning to grab some lemons and slice them up. Squeezing a few of them in a cup, I filled it with water. I took my time so I could diffuse some of my anxiety at answering. Then, I murmured, “I know.”
“There she is.” He sat down then as I put the cup in front of him. He took a bite slow and held my gaze as if he wanted me to experience it with him. The way his lips closed over the fork and the way he savored the bite now was intentional, and the air freaking crackled with tension. “Tastes divine, Clara. Did you add dill? Probably a couple other things—”
Kicking out the chair across from him, I shrugged. “Yep. With minced garlic and parsley. Does it work together?”
He tsked. “You know it does. Own it.”
“Okay.” I crossed my arms. “I know it does. And you should enjoy your meals, not rush them.”
“I’m fine enjoying a meal all damn day rather than going to meet your futurementorat the market.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, maybe my future mentor, Dominic, if he wants.”
He squinted around another bite and pointed his fork at me. “He’d be lucky to have you, cupcake. He’s mastered main courses, but he’s still yet to nail a dessert menu.”
