15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Waking early, I watch Sophia sleep for a few minutes. She’s resting peacefully, so I decide to let her sleep as I ease out of bed and slip into my pajama pants. Taking my time going down the stairs, my mind is on the dreams I had last night and how whatever I was doing in my sleep scared Sophia. As I turn the corner toward the kitchen, I know my mom is already in there. The smell of coffee wafts down the hall along with the soft clinking noises from the dishes.
“Morning, Mom. What are you doing up so early?” I ask as I walk straight to the coffee cups and pour a cup.
“Morning, son. I just couldn’t sleep,” she replies and I can see the weight of the world on her shoulders. I’ve always been close to my mom and I know when she’s stressed.
“What’s wrong, Mom? What are you stressing over?” I get straight to the point. I guess I get trait that from her.
She sips her coffee and looks over the rim of the cup at me. She’s deciding what she should and shouldn’t say. I can read her as well as she can read me. I’m man enough to say I love my mom with everything I am. We have always been very close and she knows everything about me. I trust her and value her opinion. Taking my seat across from her at the table, I patiently wait for her to answer my question.
“You’ve taken a big step by letting her call you ‘Dom,’ son,” she finally says. No beating around the bush, no hinting or working up to whatever is weighing on her mind. Not for my mom—she goes right to the heart of the matter and puts it out on the table for all to see. “It’s only been a couple of days. I think it’s too soon.”
“Mom,” I reply, drawing out the one-syllable word into at least three syllables, just like when I was a teenager and she called me out on my bullshit. And much like back then, I have no other response in my arsenal.
“Don’t‘Mom’me, Dominic. That is part of your name and part of you. We’ve stressed how important it is that‘Dom’would be reserved for the one you would spend the rest of your life with,” Mom admonishes me. “This is a big deal, son. If it doesn’t work with Sophia, that title will still be linked with her. It can never fully belong to anyone else.”
She’s right—itisa big deal and itisvery soon. I’ve never let anyone call me that name, even as a nickname in school. If anyone even tried, I shut it down immediately. Soon, no one even attempted it and my employees would definitely never be so informal with me. Sophia is different and I knew it as soon as she stepped into my office.
“It’s alright, Mom. Itisvery soon, I will give you that, but she’s so unlike anyone I’ve dated before. I can’t even explain it to you adequately. She’s naïve, inexperienced, and insecure—but at the same time, she’s bold, she’s smart, and she’s brave. There’s something in her that drives her to try the things that scare her the most. Her courage amazes me.” I try to articulate all the things that make me crave Sophia more and more every moment, but I’m only scratching the tip of the iceberg with a fork.
The dubious look Mom gives me in return doesn’t help matters. The dream is still at the forefront of my thoughts and sometimes I would swear my mom is a mind reader. She stares me down as she takes another sip of her coffee and part of me wants to laugh at her attempt to intimidate me. But she knows me better than anyone—she knows all of my deepest secrets and fears—so her concern is valid. She arches an eyebrow at me and no words are needed.
“It’s too late, Mom,” I confess. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
She sighs heavily and slowly nods her head as if she already knew and was just waiting for me to confirm it. “You know, Dominic, it really doesn’t matter how old you are. A mother never stops worrying about her children.”
Mom gets up from the table and begins taking ingredients out of the refrigerator to make our breakfast. For as long as I can remember, Dad has offered to have our cook come early in the morning so Mom wouldn’t have to cook but she would never agree. There were very few things that she solidly put her foot down over, and this was one of those things, so Dad always indulged her. She wanted us to start every day as just a normal family. Breakfasts with my family are some of my favorite memories from my childhood.
As I enter the bedroom, I faintly hear the water running in the bathroom and then a moment later, Sophia comes sweeping into the room. The aroma of jasmine, rose, and orchid drifts into the room in her wake. She’s dressed and ready for the day, looking beautiful as always, when she sees me staring. She stops walking and stares back at me for a second before her smile lights up her face.
“Good morning, Dom,” she says sweetly as she walks to me and kisses me. “I missed you this morning. I hope I didn’t sleep too long.”
“No, baby, you’re good. Dad hasn’t made it downstairs yet. Mom and I just had a cup of coffee together and she’s cooking breakfast now,” I say as I pull her into my arms.
“How rude of me! I should go down and help her!” she exclaims as she frantically searches for her shoes.
I calmly grasp her by the shoulders to get her attention, “No, baby, breakfast is herthing. She won’t let you—shelikesdoing this for us.”
After I take a quick shower and get dressed, I join everyone downstairs in the kitchen. As I approach, I hear Mom, Dad, and Sophia talking and laughing together like old friends. Mom is putting the last of the breakfast foods on the table as I walk in the room.
“Just in time,” Mom smiles at me.
After a way too big breakfast, we spend the majority of the day with my parents, doing nothing and everything together. Sophia seems so much more at ease now and she’s enjoying this close family time. I notice, at times, she has a forlorn look on her face but she quickly rejoins us in the moment. I suspect she’s making comparisons again and feeling regrets of how her life could have been had circumstances been different. In the late afternoon, Sophia and I say our goodbyes and Tucker drives us back to the airport.
“You look happy,” I comment to her as we ride in the backseat.
“Iamhappy, Dom,” she replies. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You seem happier now than when we first arrived.”
“I feel closer to you now, after meeting your parents. I felt like I fit in with them, like they accepted me,” she says as her eyes drift off to gaze out the window past me.
Taking her chin in my hand, I capture her attention and hold her gaze steady as I assure her. “Theydoaccept you and youdofit in with my family. My parents understand how important you are to me. You don’t ever have to worry about that,” I state with finality.
Her eyes dart from side to side as she gazes deeply into my eyes. She looks like she wants to say something that’s hard for her to express, but she withdraws into herself again. I keep reminding myself that I have to take baby steps with her, but the Dom in me is ready to start demanding all of her. He thinks maybe it’s time to remind her of the dynamics of our relationship and I’m inclined to agree with him.
