He waits a beat. Blinks. “Yeah. As usual,” he says.
“Well too bad for him, you’re going to be married soon and you’ll outbid his ass. After that, he’ll probably be too nervous to face you even in the ring,” I smirk, crawling onto his lap. “Andspeaking of the wedding…have you found a venue yet? Andrew said you’ve been looking.”
“Not yet,” he says, “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“Oh,” I say, getting back up again. Dominic immediately goes back to typing, and I decide to leave him be. But halfway to the door, I stop and turn back around. It’s one thing for him not to be in a flirty or frisky mood; it’s another for him not to have a comeback to anything I say at all.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, just a lot on my mind,” he answers.
“I understand,” I say. “But you seem really distant.”
“How so?” he asks without looking up. My concern is taking a turn, shifting to annoyed.
“Well, we could start with how you walked out on my dance routine the other night,” I say.
“I told you I got a work call. A system went down at the airport in Atlanta. That’s kind of a big deal,” he answers with the same tone.
“So is your fiancé’s first dance performance as the lead ring girl,” I say, and after a jaw-clenching moment his eyes drag up to me. Now I know he’s upset about something, but so am I. I’m not a beat around the bush kind of person, and I’m certainly not one to accept the silent treatment.
“Are you in a hurry to get married?” he asks. Now I’m really lost.
“I mean, I thought we were on a timeline, yes,” I answer. “Why does this feel like an interrogation?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he says, and now I’m really getting steamed.
“Why are you acting like this?” I ask.
“Like what?” he deflects.
“Like I did something wrong. Like you don’t want to have anything to do with me. I don’t know, it feels like you’re…you’re…”
“I’m what?” he asks.
“Hiding something.”
Dominic’s eyes land on me hard. “It’s interesting that you say that,” he says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
Dominic’s mouth opens, but before he can say anything, his phone rings. He looks down at it, and his scowl deepens. “I have to take this.”
I turn and walk out. I’m not even halfway to the kitchen before I hear the door slam so hard it shakes the house. My anger melts into hurt, and hot, salty tears burn my eyes. I’m about to go into my room and slam the door too, just to make a point. But I decide to go out instead.
The Cockpit is buzzing when I get there. The ex-waitress in me is struggling not to step in and start helping. I resist the urge and snag the last seat at the bar. Resting my chin on my hand and recap the day, trying to figure out how it went from amazing to…this.
“You look like hell,” Brynn steps in front of me.
“Bad day,” I tell her. Then I correct myself. “Well, bad evening.”
“Too bad you can’t have a drink,” she says a little too loudly. I take a conversational left turn.
“Why do men suck?” I ask as she sets a water in front of me.
“Do you at least want a milkshake? Ice cream in liquid form can ease any bad mood,” she offers.
“Actually, I was hoping Lainey was here. I really need to talk,” I answer, swiveling on my chair to look around.
