I’ve never noticed the colour of his eyes before, not really. They’re a deep navy blue, flecked with golden brown. I’ve also never been chest to chest with Dominic before. I’m 5’10, I’mhardly small. But he’s so much taller than me, and I don’t like that his imposing presence feels anything but intimidating. It feels warm, like his hand. Like I could lay my head against his broad chest and tell him all my woes.
Snap out of it, girl, he’s a million years old with a silver beard and he’s your fucking father-in-law in case you forgot.
“Fine.” I loosen my grip on the kettle, and Dominic scoops it out of my grasp. “Since you insist.”
“I do.”
I throw myself down on the oversized black velvet armchair just beyond the counter and watch Dominic move around the kitchen.
“My dad was Albanian,” I say suddenly, and I don’t even know why I say that. It must be the drugs.
Dom’s head snaps up to look at me, and he gives me a crooked smile. “Really?”
“Well, half Albanian. My grandma was, um, yeah. I only met her a few times when I was little. I barely remember her.”
“Is that where you get your beauty from?” Dom asks, and I know it’s just the flu making me blush. I’m sure it is.
“I suppose I do look like her,” I say, fidgeting with the sleeve of my jumper. “I think, anyway. Like I said, I haven’t seen her since I was a kid.”
“Do you know where your parents are?”
I swallow hard, an action that really hurts since my throat feels like it’s filled with oversized gumballs coated in razor blades. “No. No idea.”
Dom nods, turning to the kettle as it starts to whistle. “That’s a shame.”
He fixes me a cup of tea, not even asking how I take it but somehow knowing. I trawl back through my memory, trying to think if Dom’s ever made me a cup of tea before to know this bit of information.
He sits down on the settee opposite me, and cradles his cup between his hands, which makes the cup look like a mere thimble.
“I’ll stay until the repair man comes, and then I’ll take the tiny terror for a walk. You can go to bed if you like, I’ll lock up when I leave.”
“You don’t have to do all that.”
Dom’s mouth shifts and he gazes at me carefully. “You know, it’s always easy to tell someone who’s had to make a go of it on their own. They’re terrible at letting anyone else look after them.”
I shrug, taking a sip of my sweet black tea. “One of my many faults.”
“No, I don’t think that’s your fault at all.”
I want to push away the sweetness of his tone and the tender look in his face, because I want rid of this family, not to be drawn into something that won’t last. I’ll be away from them soon, there’s no sense in letting Dom in now. It’ll just hurt me later.
“Maybe it’s not, but the fallout is mine whoever’s fault it is.” I clutch onto the cup, warming my hands. “I just have to live with it.”
“Why didn’t this Albanian grandmama take you in when your parents couldn’t?” Dom asks.
I frown at my hands, and I suppose it must be the medication that makes me want to talk about this, and feel just a bit sorry for myself. “My grandfather, he was… He was violent. He was English and thought marrying an Albanian woman would mean he’d have a submissive housemaid at his beck and call. Imagine his shock and surprise when she had actual needs and wants, like a human being.” I sigh heavily, feeling a little sleepy. “By the time child services came to collect me, my grandfather had too many misdemeanours on his record for them to even consider placing me with them.”
Dominic frowns and shakes his head. “And she never left him?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Too dedicated to him. I don’t know. Maybe I inherited more from her than I thought.”
His face darkens instantly. “Archie’s hit you?”
I quickly shake my head, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh god, no no that’s not what I meant. I meant staying in a bad relationship to prove something to yourself, or whatever it is we think.”
“Right.” Dom relaxes visibly, looking down into his cup as he tips it back and forth. “Well I’m very sorry she never got to know you properly. She’d have loved you, I’m sure.”
“Thanks.” I give him a weak smile. “Maybe she could have taught me how to cook.”
