I really like this man. “Well… kind of?”
He laughs, and it’s a deep, warm sound, but he gives me the space to continue.
“I… just got out of a long relationship with a man who was kind of like you. Well, at least physically,” I start, waving my hand towards him as if that will clarify. “Tall and tattooed. Sexy,” I decide to add on, delighted at the way he smirks while the tips of his ears get red. “But I’m learning that you couldn’t be more different from him, and that’s surprising to me. You have a job, for starters.”
His eyebrows raise. “The bar sounds real low,” he murmurs.
“Oh man, the bar is underground, Dominic. That’s not even the worst of it. You cook. You clean. You do laundry. You look like you make regular doctor’s appointments?—”
“That… makes me a freak?”
I roll my eyes, but I secretly like when he teases me. “You’re not a freak. You’re the opposite of a freak. You seem to be a really, really good father, for fuck’s sake, and you’ve kept this beautiful, intelligent human alive and thriving for what, five years? You’ve done an amazing job raising her, from what I can see. You’ve put her first. You keep doing these normal, well-adjusted, non-freaky things that I’m not used to.”
He silently passes me another platter to dry. “Why does it matter?” he asks after a few moments.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re saying these things like… like they’re good things. Like they’re good surprises. Like you’re comparing us—me and your ex. Why does it matter?”
I addemotionally adeptto my list of things I like about Dominic. “I don’t know. It’s hard not to.”
“Why?” he presses, but I can tell he would back off if I asked him to, and I see why he is an effective parent of a little girl.
I shrug. “Because I’m attracted to you.”
He stiffens.
Frankie takes this moment to run into the kitchen. “I want Tita Georgia and Tita Lina to read me my bedtime chapter, Daddy,” she screams. “No offense,” she tacks on.
He winces. “Inside voice, Frankie.”
“Sorry,” she whispers.
Dominic looks at her a little sadly. “You don’t want me to read to you?”
She rolls her eyes. “You read to me every night. Can I have someone different?”
I can tell he is hurt by this in the slight curve of his shoulders. “Sure, Frankie. You have to ask them if it’s okay, though.”
Frankie turns to me. “Can you read me my bedtime chapter?” she grins.
I look over at Dominic, who has silently resumed his dish washing. “Sure, honey. But can you give your dad a big hug and kiss before we start your bedtime routine?”
She sprints over and jumps on his back, climbing up to his shoulders, kissing him on the back of the head. “I love you, Daddy. You can read to me tomorrow.”
He turns off the sink and dries his hands. He somehow maneuvers her so she is clinging like a monkey to the front of his torso. “I love you,” he says, squeezing her tightly. “If you need anything in the middle of the night, Tita Gloria and Tito Ben are in the room next to yours, okay? And I’ll be in the guest house, not far away at all,” he tells himself more than her.
She hops down and takes me by the hand, dragging me out of the kitchen. “We’re on chapter three of the rat book,” she tells me.
I look back at Dominic one more time, and nowheis looking atmelike I’m a freak.
* * *
I soon find a book calledRats: Observations on the History & Habitat of the City's Most Unwanted Inhabitantin my hands. Georgia takes the first half of a chapter titledWhere I Went to See Rats and Who Sent Me There. I take the second half. Frankie asks us some really profound questions, ranging from “Do rats get nervous when people watch them?” to “Why do rats die?” We get her dressed in her jammies, brush her hair out of her braids, get her teeth brushed, and tuck her in.
She makes each of us kiss her forehead before we leave, and she is out before we even get the door closed.
“Frankie has to be the easiest five-year-old I’ve ever met,” Georgia whispers to me on our walk back down the stairs.
