He nods once. “I know.”
“But when you said it like that, it all kind of just piled on me, and I didn’t really think through it then, and I ran.”
He picks at a loose strand on his armchair, his lips a straight line. I don’t think about how the fidgeting doesn’t bode well.
“It turns out I just needed some space to think it through. Because once I did,” I give him a small smile, “I came to some pretty eye-opening conclusions.”
Dom’s whole body goes still now, his fingers freezing, hovering above the arm of the couch.
“What I have with you is nothing like what I’ve ever had with anyone else. Because as much as I give to you, you give back tenfold. You give me so much of yourself that I’m not stretched thin. You take care of me. Yougetme.” I take a deep breath, amping myself up to say this last part, the culmination of my game plan, the last line on the page, the big declaration. “And?—”
“Lina,” he says. It’s soft but carries the weight of a sharp hammer of a rebuke, and my breath and energy and momentum whooshes right out of me.
He finally looks at me, and this is a new Dom face. It’s not the bone-deep exhaustion I noticed when he opened the door—it’s something worse, something more, something that cuts through my heart and slices my final declaration of love into pieces before it can get out. It’s a blankness that I’ve never seen before, and I realize that it’s there because all the usual warmth has left his face.
“I’ve spent the past two days hurt and pissed and, frankly, mortified. I felt like a desperate idiot, waiting for you to come back to the hotel room, or waiting for a text or a call. But now I’m just exhausted,” he says emptily. My heart crawls into my throat. “I told you back in Westerly that I wanted to try for something real. That it would be hard. And then you went and mentioned all the shit you do and give up for Frankie, when youknowit’s a sore spot, when youknowI’m so fucking grateful to you, and something?—”
“I wasn’t holding that against you, Dom. I was just frustrated about the way you wouldn’t get off my case.”
He shakes his head. “Regardless, Lina, you said you said you were in?—”
“Iwasin, Dom, Iamin.” I’m pleading for something.
Dom being Dom makes sure I’m finished before continuing, but I don’t know what else to say. “I took a huge risk, Lina. I let you into my life. I let you into my daughter’s life. I trusted you. And you left.”
“I just needed some space. It was just two days,” I try, desperate.
“Lina,” he implores me to understand with the tone of his voice now, far less objective. “Youleft. Youbailed. Youwalked out.On me and on Frankie. And we didn’t hear from you fortwo fucking days.” I start to see pain slipping through his mask, and then I understand.
“That’s—” His voice cracks here, slicing through my chest. “I can’t,” he manages. “We can’t. After that. I’ve spent the last two days thinking about what I would say to Frankie if she asked me if you left because of her, because of something she did. I can’t do that to her. I can’t do that to myself.”Again, he doesn’t say.Again. Because, to Dom, I’ve done the unforgivable. The worst thing I could possibly do to him, to this man who has built a fortress around himself and his daughter after the last two women ripped through the fabric of their lives.
I swallow the sharp lump stuck in my throat, but I still have to force this out through the jagged flesh. “What are you saying?”
He takes a deep breath. “I know it was a lot for you. I knew it would be. Not just starting a new relationship, but joining a family. And it’s my fault for pushing it, because I thought I deserved to be a little selfish for once in my life. I see now that it was the wrong move, and I’ve jeopardized the happiness and stability of my daughter by doing so.” He says this part calmly, objectively, no accusation in his voice, because this poor man is so used to taking everything on that he won’t even share the blame with me.
“Dom—”
He stands and walks to the door. I see his hand swipe over his eyes on the walk over.
I’m forced to stand, even if my body is on the verge of coming apart.
“I’m sorry, Lina,” he says, opening the door.
I walk out on Dom and his daughter again, this time leaving shattered pieces of my heart behind, and he deliberately closes the door and shuts them away.
TWENTY-TWO
Dominic
I sneakinto Frankie’s room and fold myself into her twin sized bed, on the wall side, and gather her into my arms. She snuggles in. I bury my nose in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her scalp, and try not to get her hair wet.
* * *
I was telling the truth when I told Lina I was done feeling angry and just feeling tired. I’m not sure if it’s a coping mechanism though, emptying myself of feelings, disassociating. It’s more of a dull, sore pain this morning, like a bruise, instead of the meticulous stab and twist of a few days prior.
I don’t say anything to Frankie because I don’t know what to say. I left a message with Dr. Fung, but she hasn’t gotten back to me. The best move, I think, for right now, is to let Lina fade out of our lives naturally. The ‘rip off the bandaid’ strategy won’t work because Frankie will have to see Lina every day.
I lied. There’s still some lingering anger, but it’s all directed at myself, for putting Frankie in this fucking situation.
