“Perfect.” Sliding out my phone, I send another text, this time to Pen.
Me:I’m not feeling so great. Gonna head home early. See you there.
There’s a flurry of responses but I ignore them as Chloe and I slip out the back exit, where we typically receive deliveries. The two of us race to the house, knowing that whatever time we think we have, it’ll be less— Pen won’t take her time if she truly thinks I’m not feeling well.
“Nervous?” Chloe asks, nudging me with her elbow as we jog through the chilly, empty streets of Prairie Ridge to the house.
If she had asked me an hour ago, I would have said no. Today— and the days leading up to today— have simply been too busy and overwhelming to focus my attention on what I have planned for tonight.
But now? Yeah, there’s a flipping sensation in my stomach and a nervous energy coursing through me.
“Nah, not really.”
Chloe rolls her eyes as we begin to slow, coming up to the house. Her cousin, Jasper, walks up at the same time— he must have parked around the block so Pen wouldn’t see his car.
“It’s okay to admit you’re nervous,” Chloe says, breathless.
Hesitating, I try to catch my breath, but I realize the effort is pointless— my heart is simply pounding too hard to center myself. So I shrug and say, “Maybe. A little.”
If Pen were here, she’d follow up by saying “a lot,” but she’s not and Chloe doesn’t get our inside joke. Glancing at my phone I ignore the texts from Pen and check the time. An hour from now, it will all be over. Swallowing down the anxious feeling in my throat, I nod at Jasper and Chloe. “Let’s do this.”
TWENTY-THREE
november
PENELOPE
My heart hammersin my chest as I speed through the motions of closing the store. Dominic seemed fine when he went into the back room— what could have happened? In all honesty, I’m so flustered, I couldn’t tell you if I pulled the money from the drawer and locked it up. Did I?
On my walk home, I shiver the entire way, cursing the fact that I ran out of the store without my coat. There’s a bitterly-cold early-winter wind whipping about and by the time I make it to the house, my cheeks are burning and my fingers are frozen.
The living room light is on but the drapes are shut, which is strange since Carl loves to sit in the window seat for his “neighborhood watch”. I take the front steps two at a time and reach for the door— but it won’t budge. It’s… locked?
“Are you frickin’ kidding me?” We typically use the front door when we get home, and I just assumed Dom would leave it unlocked knowing that I wouldn’t be far behind him. I knock but there’s no answer. My heart pounds faster and I can feel anxious thoughts begin to take over. What happened to Dom? Is he okay? Has he passed out? Does he need help?
My phone buzzes with a text and I struggle to swipe on the screen, my fingers are so frozen. My heart flips when I see it’s from Dom.
Dom:Come around back
Huffing, I shove my phone in my pocket and hurry down the stairs toward the back. I’m going to kill him. My blood pressure is probably through the roof and my emotions have swung back and forth like they’re on the damn teacups at Disney World. The nerve he has, leaving me at the store and not answering my messages! The audacity to suddenly get sick! Okay, I can’t begrudge him that, but the lack of communication, abso?—
My internal thoughts jerk to a halt as I wrench open the back door. The kitchen is dark but there are tiny tealight candles lighting a path from the back door down the hallway. I shut the door but I stand frozen, blinking several times, trying to process what I’m seeing.
“Pea?” Dom’s voice calls from down the hall. “Are you… er, are you coming in?”
My hands are trembling so I curl them into fists, but that doesn’t stop the whole-body shakes. A combination of freezing from my walk and nerves about what lies ahead. “Um, yeah. Just… trying to… you know… process this.”
His chuckle is warm as it carries down the hall, slipping inside me, under the ball of anxiety and awkwardness growing in my chest and making me feel a tad bit at ease. “Stop overthinking, Pea. Come to me.”
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to move forward, following the delicately lit path. The range of emotions feels like it might choke me— from anxious nerves to the dramatic butterflies in my belly.
Is this what I think it is?
If it is… it’s not something we’ve truly discussed. Sure, maybe we joked about it in passing, and maybe it became a deep-rooted desire in my soul. Something that I would only think about within recent weeks, a hopeful thought that I tucked away during the day and only brought it out at night when Dom would wrap me in his arms as we fell asleep. A thought that I relegated to my fantasies, the ones that are labeled “someday” and “maybe.” An ache for a future that I’m not quite sure belongs to me. I wasn't sure if it’s something I deserve.
And if it’s not? Well, nothing and no one will take that bright kernel of “someday, maybe” hope away from my nights.
As I pass the threshold to the main living space, my breath catches in my throat. There’s so much that I’m not quite sure what to focus on first.
