Her jaw quivered as she stood from her chair.
“Okay,” she whispered as she came closer. “I promise.”
“I have to get back. We still have a straggler crowd. The rest of the furniture comes tomorrow so I’ll be here early. Not that you’ll know.” I pulled at the hair at my neck, not wanting to tear my eyes away from Thea’s, even though the pain in her gaze gutted me.
“Right. It all looks great, Dominic. I’m excited for you.”
I cupped her chin and brushed her lips with a light kiss, stealing another quick one when she didn’t turn away.
“Drive safe, sweetheart.”
Her eyes clenched shut for a moment. I spied the roll of her throat as she swallowed hard.
“I will.”
I nodded and saw myself out, my heart heavy as I moped out of the hotel and back into my truck.
If my mother was really watching from the other side, I prayed she’d give her foolish son this one last chance to make things right.
39
Thea
“Why don’tyou work from home tomorrow morning? You have to be exhausted from that long drive this afternoon.”
I smiled at my mother’s huff in my ear. She always hovered, but I swore she had surveillance on me at times. The minute I came through the door my cell phone buzzed in my purse. I appreciated the sentiment, but after all those hours in traffic with no stops, and the weekend I’d had, I wasn’t up for talking to anyone.
Saturday night had aged me a few years, but the restless feeling I’d always had when I thought of Dominic and me finally ceased. I wouldn’t have to wonder how he would react when I told him or think about how he was doing all this time.
I wished I hadn’t gotten a glimpse ofwhohe’d been doing, but even that didn’t bother me as much as it originally had. I couldn’t give him a total pass, but that wasn’t the reason I’d asked him to go on Saturday and had only saw him briefly on business before I left.
“I have meetings in the morning. It’s fine. I can unpack tomorrow after I get some sleep,” I told her on a loud yawn. Being in my own space relaxed me, hopefully enough that I’d drift to sleep quickly and not have any issues sleeping alone. I only shared a bed with Dominic again for a short time, but nighttime was when I missed him the most.
I thought the time apart would clear my head, but he was never far from my mind.
“Eat something, then go to bed. I guess you’re going back to see Dominic, right?”
I cringed at the sound of his name, my eyes drifting to the bag of food he’d given me still on my kitchen counter. I didn’t know what was in there that he wanted me to see, but before I went to bed, I knew I had to find out.
Something told me eating or sleeping wasn’t happening for me tonight once I opened that bag.
“I head back in a few weeks,” I said, not wanting to acknowledge her tone when she mentioned Dominic, or whether or not I’d ever be going back to see him. “Listen, Mom, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I said a quick goodbye and hung up, approaching the bag as if I were about to defuse a bomb.
Reaching inside, I pulled out a bag of muffins and cookies, a silver tray of something that managed to stay almost warm. My fingers wrapped around a metal wire at the bottom of the bag, and when I pulled at it, it was connected to a thick notebook with a black cover.
The edges of the pages were folded and frayed. When I turned the cover over and read the first page, my heart leaped into my throat.
Dear Mom,
Steve asked me to do this, so I figured appeasing him would appease you. Not that you’ll know. Or maybe you do. After all those years in Catholic school, learning about heaven and the afterlife, maybe that’s where you are.
Wherever you are, you aren’t here and I hate that.
How did I not know you were sick? Looking back, I could see a ton of signs. But I was too damn distracted to see any of them. I was too busy planning trips with my girlfriend to take care of my own mother. I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so fucking sorry.
This was the notebook he told me about, where he’d written letters to his mother and, later, to me. I set the book back down on the counter for a moment to grab the half bottle of Pinot Grigio on the inside door of my fridge, not caring if it went bad or wasting time finding a glass. Grabbing the book and bottle, I headed to my couch and tucked my legs under me. My fingers shook as they drifted down the page, the marks of Dominic’s handwriting so deeply ingrained it had poked through the pages, in places.
