Page 48 of Autumn on My Mind

Now that we’re standing, this space feels smaller; Dominic takes up more than his share of the shower, closer than he should be. But he just grimaces and reaches past me for the shower curtain.

“Out my bedroom window, unfortunately,” he says in a low voice. His slow pull of the curtain brings us into the light once more, and I inhale deeply of air that doesn’t carry Dominic’s inexplicable presence.

“Do you hear them?”

He shakes his head and steps out of the tub, crossing the bathroom in two long strides. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Listen at the door,” I tell him, but it’s unnecessary, as he’s already pressed his ear to the door.

His muscular frame looks odd, curled and hunched like that, but after a second he straightens up and beckons without looking at me. He eases the door open, peeks ever so slowly out, and then gestures for me again.

I follow in his wake, my heart pounding in my chest as we creep down the hallway on light feet. Some of my anxiety eases when I hear my mother laugh from downstair—but only some.

Because why did they come home? Why are they not at a restaurant eating pasta or appetizers or fancy salads?

Why are they not in a well-lit, PUBLIC place?

This must be what it feels like for parents when their children start dating. If Daryl’s mother knew he was out with a woman like Alvina, she’d put her foot down for sure.

There’s a question itching the back of my mind, one I can’t bear to ask no matter how many times it pops up. But the question grows more and more insistent the longer I consider.

When we’ve slipped into Dominic’s bedroom—another win for my teenage self—I close the door gently, and then I turn to him, finally blurting out what I can’t stop thinking.

“Do you think they—” I break off. There’s not a delicate way to phrase it, and putting words to the idea makes me want to scream, but I push forward the best I can. “How fast do you think their relationship is moving?” I say.

Judging by Dominic’s expression, he knows exactly what I mean.

“I refuse to think about it,” he says briskly as the frown lines on his forehead grow more pronounced. “My dad thinks things should be done a certain way, and that includes getting married before being intimate. But…”

“But he’s dating Alvina,” I say miserably.

Dominic gives a nod as he rounds his bed and slides the curtains further apart. He leans back and then shakes the navy fabric, wrinkling his nose at the dust that poofs into the air.

“He’s dating your mother,” he says. “Who, I’m sorry to say, is a pit of quicksand.”

I blink at this wording. “Did the Ednas tell you that?”

“Mm-hmm,” he says, a distracted sound. “I ran into them last week.”

“They said the same thing to me!” I slump, frowning. “I think they should personalize their gossip a bit. Are we all getting the same news verbatim?”

Dominic doesn’t speak or look at me, but the faintest of smiles twitches at his lips as he reaches up to the top of the window and removes the curtain rod completely. I step aside as he lowers it and sets it on his bed, which is neatly made and decked in a comforter of blue and green plaid.

I look around the rest of the room. Besides the bed, there’s a small bookcase and a chest of drawers. I settle on one corner of the bed, taking up as little space as possible.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” I ask Dom, who snorts.

“Of course I do. I’m a handyman, Berkeley.” He pauses. “But I also used to sneak out this window in high school.”

I blink at him in surprise. “You did? I never knew that.”

“Why would you have?” he says distractedly, eyeing the window. “We didn’t know each other in high school.”

I will take it to my grave that I doodled his name in my teenage diary, so all I say is “I guess so.” Then I add, “What did you do? When you snuck out?”

“Stupid teenager stuff.” Dominic rolls up his sleeves, revealing tanned forearms. “I don’t know if you remember James Carver?”

I think for a second. “From the maple farm?”