An ache continues to build in my chest, similar to the one I felt when Gloria passed.
I’m scared that I’m losing Dominic. I’m spiraling and my anxiety is telling me he’s going to sell the store, leave Prairie Ridge, and leave me. The pain of my suspicion hurts my heart just as much as when Gloria died. Even more so, because Dom will still be on this plane of existence, but choosing to leave me, be somewhere without me.
“You ready to go?” Dom sticks his head into the break room.
“Uh, yeah. Let me just?—”
“Pea, are you crying?” Dominic steps fully into the break room and over to me quickly. I didn’t realize it but yes, tears stream down my face as I sit at the small break room table. Hearing him use my pet name has me choking back a sob.
“Don’t.” I stand quickly, trying to brush past him, but he catches my arm.
“Baby, shhh.” He pulls me into his arms. His broad, warm hand strokes my hair as he holds me close. “What’s going on?”
I can't answer him. It's been so long since we've been this close, and the familiar scent of him— sandalwood and coffee— only makes my tears fall faster. I feel like I'm drowning in uncertainty.
"Pea," he says again, his voice gentler this time. "Talk to me."
I push away from him, wiping furiously at my face. "Are you selling the store?"
His brow furrows. "What?"
"The store, Dom. Gloria's store. Are you selling it?" My voice cracks as I say it out loud; my worst fear hanging in the air between us.
Dominic's eyes widen, and he takes a step back. "Is that what you think? That I came back just to sell it?"
"I don't know what to think anymore." I wrap my arms around myself. "You're back, but you're still so far away. You don't talk to me about anything important. You sleep on my couch but might as well be in another state." The words tumble out now that the dam has broken. "And I keep waiting for you to tell me your plans, but you just... don't."
Something shifts in his demeanor and his face falls with a sweeping expression of disappointment. “I really fucked this up, didn’t I?” he mumbles mostly to himself.
“Just talk to me,” I plead, swiping at more stray tears on my face. “When you don’t communicate with me, I wind up lost in my own mind. Which, quite honestly, is a mess of anxiety, what-ifs, worst case scenarios, and?—”
“No.” Dom’s voice is loud, firm, cutting me off.
“No… you won’t talk to me?” Something inside me crumples.
“Jesus, Penelope. No, I’m not selling the store.” Dom runs his hand through his hair, leaving his waves messy and frantic. “Sorry. Fuck. I’m not, that’s not directed at you. I’m pissed at myself right now.”
“Oh.” The word comes out on a choked sob. I’m so relieved at his admission that I don’t even process anything else.
Dom’s hands cup my cheeks, tilting my head to look up at him. “Pen, I mean it when I say I fucked this up. Can you just… can we just get home? And I’ll explain.”
He wipes a final tear from my cheek as I nod.
As we lock up the store, the rain starts coming down. It’s typical mid-October rain for the midwest, humid and breezy, like summer just refuses to let go of its grip on the weather.We throw up our hoods and take off at a brisk pace toward the house. Somewhere along the way, Dom grabs my hand and we start running.
Splashing through puddles, hand in hand, I hear Dominic laughing. His laughter is a sound that sparks warm fuzzies for me. And it’s been so long since I’ve heard it.
By the time we make it to the house, we’re both soaked and shaking with laughter and chills. Carl is slow to rise from his sleepy spot on the couch, but he offers a few yips of excitement at our dramatic entrance.
Dom pulls me down the hall as I shriek, “We’re dripping everywhere!”
“It’s just water!” I swear, the warmth in his voice is enough to keep the chills at bay. He steers us into the bedroom before he lets go of my hand. “One sec, okay?”
Completely bewildered by this man, I simply nod. Dom walks into the bathroom, flips on the light and a few moments later I hear the sound of the vintage tub being turned on. Panic shoots through me— I haven’t used that tub since I bought the house. The contractor who did my pre-purchase inspection warned me the pipes were corroded or something and quoted me a significant amount to get it into working order. Since then, it’s become a dumping ground for laundry.
“Dominic, you can’t?—”
He pops his head out of the bathroom. “I can. We can. Just trust me.”
