“That is so cool!” she cried and curled up her knees to her chest. “I’ve never met someone who could actually trace their history back that far.”
Dominic’s shoulders moved as if to say it wasn’t that big of a deal as he swept the blue paste around the rough edges of the PVC. “History has always been a big deal for my family, hence the antique shop. My father would make me research every new acquisition, so I’d know all about it. When I was in high school, he made me sit behind the counter with my homework, and when someone came in, I’d have to answer questions if my father wasn’t there.”
Erica’s smile failed her. “You didn’t have much of a social life, did you?”
“Oh, I did.” He let out a grunt as he tightened the nuts for the new piping. “But it was a close circle, and most of them were my father’s friends. Ask any old man in this town and they’ll have some stories to tell you about how I’d cause all sorts of trouble when my dad wasn’t around.”
Erica smiled, thinking this man looked nothing like a troublemaker, just as much as he didn’t look like an antique shop owner. “And your mom?”
Dominic’s hands slowed, and sorrow dulled his eyes for a fraction of a second. “She killed herself when I was ten. My father… he raised me, I suppose.”
Erica’s brain stumbled over the casual way he mentioned his mother’s suicide. “That must have been tough.”
Dominic lost his grip on the wrench again, and the tool hit the side wall of the cabinet. “He was either working at the shop or… he was just busy. He just wasn’t very hands-on, I guess. Those family friends I mentioned looked after me most of the time.”
She understood. Her mother worked two jobs to keep them going for the longest time. Though it was technically illegal, Erica was left alone as early as six years old because babysitters and daycare were too expensive.
Erica gave herself a mental shake. “Wait, that’s not what I meant. I meant it must have been tough that your mom killed herself.”
Movement stalled under the sink for only a moment before he continued. “Honestly, I get why she did it. My dad was always so busy with stuff and hardly home. I think she was lonely. And don’t worry, I’ve been through counseling. I know it wasn’t because I failed in some way. It was her choice. I had nothing to do with it. I resented my dad for a long time, thinking he was to blame. If he just brought his ass home every once and a while, maybe things would have turned out differently.”
Erica’s heart ached for the younger version of Dominic that had to go through such grief so early. Maybe he could talk about it so casually, like it didn’t matter anymore, but somehow, she could sense that it did. The subject of his mom wasn’t unlike the subject of her father to her.
“Did you always want to take on the family business?” she asked, hoping to steer the conversation back to something more cheerful. “You must enjoy it, then.” At that moment, it clicked that there must have been a reason Dominic owned the store now instead of his father, just like there was a reason she had the cash to buy the house. But it was too late to backpedal.
“I do, for the most part. For a long time, I traveled around the country to estate sales and auctions to buy stuff to send back here. That arrangement was for the best. My dad and I never saw eye to eye on business matters. Every conversation devolved into a fight, but it was always the plan that I’d come back here to take over things.” Dominic gave a mirthless laugh. “Somedays, I wonder if it’s even worth it to keep going.”
Erica struggled between the decision to pry or keep her mouth shut. What did he mean by that? Was the antique shop not doing well? Was it even her place to ask or had they already crossed the line of too-personal long ago?
“Doesn’t look like you’ve been cooking in here much.” Dominic glanced over his shoulder toward the spotless stove and clear countertops.
Erica gave him a helpless shrug. “I’m not one for cooking. Microwave dinners are my specialty.”
“Didn’t your mom teach you how to cook?”
“She wasn’t one for cooking either. I grew up on Ramen noodles, easy mac ’n’ cheese, and lots of baked chicken that had absolutely no flavor whatsoever.”
He laughed again, such a wonderful sound. “Sounds like my childhood. My dad just bought us a bunch of easy things to fix and told me to follow the instructions if I got hungry.”
“So, your kitchen isn’t used very much either, huh?” The secret desire to be invited over for a meal wiggled its way into her thoughts, but Erica put it down quickly.
“Actually, my kitchen is always a mess. I got sick of TV dinners, so I learned how to make everything fresh. I bought a cookbook and searched for recipes online.”
Erica grinned. “A little self-taught chef.”
Dominic made a sound of insecurity. “I wouldn’t say I’ve acquired chef status, but I can cook a variety of things.”
Unsure of what came over her, Erica replied, “Well, you can come over and cook for me any time. I’m pretty sure if I tried to use that stove, the whole house would burn down.”
He seemed to ignore her sly invitation and chuckled. “How about I teach you how to use that stove, and you’ll never have to worry about burning down the house in the first place?”
An excited squeal bubbled up in her throat that she fought down. That was even better than him cooking dinner for her. Damn, she was glad he couldn’t see her face. “But then Lunar Lantern would lose some business.”
Dominic paused for a couple of seconds as if in thought, and then went back to work. “You go there every day?”
“Almost every day.” Before she could stop herself, she added, “I pass by your store and the lights are almost always off, otherwise I would—”
Erica had almost told him that she wanted to stop by and say hello, which was only part of the truth. Even if his lights were on when she passed by, she couldn’t summon up the courage to go inside.
