Page 93

I usually store my recycling in the kitchen, but there are so many boxes from all the toys the kids got for Christmas that my kitchen is starting to look like a storeroom. The sensible thing to do would be to break the boxes down in here and carry them outside, or carry them in batches, but just like I’m always determined to carry all of groceries into the house in one trip, I’m sure I can manage them all in one go.

Of course, I didn’t think about opening the door until I had a pile of cardboard boxes almost as tall as me in my hands.

“I’ve got it.”

I’ve never been so grateful to hear Dom’s voice. He opens the back door for me and picks up the boxes I inevitably drop, trailing me outside.

“Thanks,” I say, dumping the boxes in a pile on the back porch so I can start breaking them down.

It’s the kind of winter day I love the most. The snow on the ground is fluffy, the air is crisp and dry, and everything smells fresh. It’s cold, but it’s nothing I’m not used to, and I at least had the foresight to grab a jacket before piling the boxes into my arms.

Dom leans against the wall, blowing on his hands and rubbing his arms, watching me break apart the box from the robot dinosaur family that Ronan got the kids.

“Is everything okay?” I ask him.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. Killian and I got back from the cabin yesterday, and I’ve been waiting for Dom to pull me aside since. Our conversation before we left was clearly unfinished.

“Sure.” I don’t stop flattening the boxes, and Dom doesn’t offer to help.

“I can see that I might have dropped the ball a little, so to speak,” he says after a moment. He stumbles over the words, like they’re foreign to him.

“Okay.” I’m not going to thank him for recognizing something so fucking obvious.

“I know I made a lot of promises before and after Caitlin was born, and I haven’t been around much since. And even less since James. That wasn’t fair of me. I shouldn’t have promised things I knew I couldn’t do at the time. They deserve to have their dad in their life, and you deserved to have a partner.”

“It would’ve been nice.”

“I’ve missed a lot.”

“You have.”

“I’ve never been very paternal,” he says, like it excuses his absence. I raise a brow at him, because that’s not going to fly. “It’s not an excuse, I know. But an explanation, maybe.”

“Dom, not being paternal does not explain why you cheated on your wife and had a whole secret family.”

“Well, no, I suppose it doesn’t.”

I stack the flattened boxes against the trash cans and sigh. “Do you even love Carrie?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why would you do this to her?”

“Do you want the honest answer?” he asks, and I nod. “Because I could. It felt good to know I could still … get women, I guess. To know I could still get you. And I know how that makes me sound, but it’s the truth.”

Ouch. It’s the most honest he’s been with me in a while, though, if not ever, and I did ask for it. “I appreciate your honesty. But you’re right, it doesn’t make you sound good. Good people don’t hurt others just because they can. You should probably work on that.”

“I want to,” he says. I’d like to believe him, but I’m going to need some proof first. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to be a family. A real one.”

I hate that I’m suspicious of every word that comes out of his mouth, but he’s made so many promises. I’ve heard it all before. Except an apology, and there’s still a serious lack of those around. But if I don’t give him the benefit of the doubt, how is he supposed to feel welcome to show up for the kids?

“I want that, too. I want you to be part of the kids’ lives. But you have to show up more than a couple of times a year to do that.”

“I know, and I’m going to figure out how to make that work. But I want more than that, Scar.”

“What do you mean?”