“All right, let’s get this off you,” I say, tugging his shirt up. He complies, raising his arms and allowing me to yank the shirt off over his head. I take his hand in mine and pull him up to stand. As I unbutton his jeans, it occurs to me how intimate this is— not sexual, despite the fact that I’m undressing him. No, this is intimacy. Seeing the person you care about most at their absolute lowest, and not running away when it gets hard. Staying through the discomfort.
Once he’s naked, I lead him into the bathroom and turn on the shower. While the water heats, I pull a towel and a washcloth from the linen cabinet. Dominic stands still, as exposed and vulnerable as I’ve ever seen him. I slip out of my clothes quickly and, when the shower begins to steam slightly, I take Dom by the hand and lead him beneath the spray.
Lathering shampoo in my hands, I stand on my tiptoes to massage his scalp. Soft moans escape his lips as I work through his hair, a sound I’ve missed the last few weeks as we’ve each waded through our grief. He rinses on his own as I run the washcloth over the lean, smooth lines of his body. As I run the cloth down his chest, Dom moves suddenly, capturing my wrist in his hand before I can go lower.
“Dom,” I say softly, “let me?—”
“No,” he bites out. He takes the cloth from my hand and tosses it to the shower floor. Before I can express my confusionor concern, his hand cups my chin and he crashes his lips to mine.
The contact is startling, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t starving for this. We haven’t touched, haven’t kissed since the morning Gloria died, when we were still in our blissful, ignorant bubble before the day exploded.
And yet… I know this isn’t right. Dominic is not in the right mental state for this, for us. We need to get through today before?—
My thoughts cut off as he walks me back, breaking our kiss before spinning me to face the shower wall.
“Dominic, what—” He rubs a hand down my front, over the curve of my belly, until he cups my sex and I can’t help but groan. Dom’s expert fingers stroke through my folds, his thumb rubbing small, hard circles over my clit. I’m wet already, not from the shower, but from Dominic and his magic hands and the desperation I’ve had for him.
Dom’s cock presses against my ass, not quite hard but not soft either. His mouth finds my shoulder and he licks the skin there before nipping hard enough to make me cry out. He plunges two fingers into my center and I stutter out a moan.
“A-a-are you sure?” I heave, unable to control the racing of my heart.
The fingers in my pussy slowly stop stroking before Dominic pulls them out completely. With both hands on my hips, Dom presses his face into my back.
And he sobs. He lets out a guttural howl as he grips my hips tight enough to leave marks. The sound shatters my heart. He hasn’t cried since that night at the store, when we held each other through our tears. And here, in the warmth and intimate space of my shower, he finds the comfort to finally break down.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles against my skin. “I thought… but I can’t. I’m sorry.”
I turn sharply, wrapping my arms around him as he buries his face against my neck. “Don’t be. Let it out, baby. I’m here.”
The VFW is a basic venue, but Gloria’s friends really did a number on the decorations. Beautiful, fresh floral arrangements adorn every table and framed photos from all eras of Gloria’s life are scattered throughout the space. So many people showed up, we had to open the doors and set up chairs and tables in the patio space as well.
I walk with Dominic through the gathering, his hand clasped tightly in mine the entire time. We pause to say hello to everyone. It’s strange how many of these people I recall from Gloria’s summer parties— everyone seems familiar, but the memories are fuzzy.
Once we’ve made a full turn of the room, I guide Dom over to the bar to grab us some drinks. Dom is quiet again, and I’m sure it took a lot of energy to be social and greet everyone just now.
“Two vodka sodas, please. With limes.” The bartender nods at me and gets to pouring the basic cocktails. Dom leans against the bar, facing the room. His eyes continue to scan over and over, and I wonder who he’s looking for. His mom? “You’re doing great,” I say quietly, pressing my body against his in a way I hope is comforting.
Taking the cocktail from the server, Dom just nods. He takes a sip of his drink and makes a face.
“Not good?” I ask. “Want something else?”
Dom shakes his head before he takes another sip. “I should have made her a signature cocktail,” he mumbles.
Placing a hand on his arm, I tilt my head up to look at him. “You’ve had a lot going on.”
Once again, he gives me a sad nod and returns to looking out at the room. I’m not sure what else to say to him to… comfort him? Distract him? I’m completely unprepared for this. In my periphery, I see Chloe approach with her cousin Jasper. She greets me with a warm hug. Jasper acknowledges me with a nod, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Hey, babe. How are you holding up?” I love Chloe to death, but I’m so tired of people asking that question. I know grief makes everyone awkward, no one knows the right thing to say or do. I glance at Dominic, a perfect example of my inability to say or do the right thing. But, come on. No one is holding up. We’re tired, we’ve each had a headache for ten days straight. We can barely manage to take care of ourselves.
“We’ve been better.” What else can I say?
Dom nods at them. “Thanks for coming out.”
“Of course,” Chloe says, wrapping her arms around herself. “We, um, well we were just wondering…” She trails off and I give her a look.
Jasper speaks up, “We were just wondering what’s going to happen with the bookstore?”
My heart sinks at his question– not an unfair one to be wondering about, and certainly not the first person to float that question in the last few weeks. The truth is, we don’t know. I shouldn’t saywebecause Dominic is actually the sole owner now. I’ve just assumed he would keep me on as a manager, and be open to my input for the future of the store. Wouldn’t he?
