“I bring out the worst in him,” I say dejectedly.
“You do, but you’re also good for him.”
“What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense.”
“A hurricane is the most violent storm on earth. An eye forms in the center as the storm system rotates faster and faster. The eye is calm and clear.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, confused.
“Metaphorically speaking, Dom is a hurricane. Find his center and bring him peace.”
“That’s bullshit, Drew, and you know it,” Jensen says in anger.
I didn’t hear him come into the kitchen.
“You have a stick so far up your ass, it’s coming through your goddamn mouth,” Drew says in annoyance.
“You’re weaving a fucking fairy tale,” Jensen snarls.
“What do you have against me?”
“It’s not personal.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I say sarcastically.
“You’re infatuated, I get it, but he needs a woman he can have a meaningful relationship with.”
“Dom is an adult. He doesn’t need you to make decisions for him.” I refuse to back down.
“I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars to disappear.”
“Excuse me?” I ask indignantly, angered by his gall to proposition me.
“Dom is going to murder you, man,” Drew says in disbelief.
“Fucking asshole,” Dom growls, charging Jensen and landing a blow to his solar plexus.
He immediately retaliates, punching Dom in the face. I stand there, terrified, watching the vicious exchange.
Drew wedges himself between them. “Stop it, stop it,” he whispers. “Your kids are in the next room, and Dom, don’t break Mom’s heart.”
“We’re going to finish this,” Dom vows, wiping the blood from his lip.
“Thinking with your cock will land you in hot water.”
“Dom, please stop,” I plead. “I don’t want you and Jensen fighting because of me.”
“It’s time for us to go.”
We say our goodbyes, to the disappointment of Dom’s mother, but I promised to come to another family dinner sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, it’s probably a promise I can’t keep.
Dom’s sour attitude was palpable in the small confines of his car during the entire drive. My attempts to engage in chitchat were met with seething silence. His mood remains firmly in place as he follows me inside my condo. I’m relieved to finally slip out of my high heels. I trudge to the couch on sore feet and plunk down. Dom paces back and forth in agitation.
“You would’ve accepted his bribe if I hadn’t intervened,” he accuses, turning wild eyes on me.
“How can you say that?” I ask, standing. “Money doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“You’re a lying bitch!” he shouts.
