DOM: Chapter 44
Big Guy: Rob is coming to the door to drop off food. I’m sure you’ll forget to order dinner.
I blink at my phone.
Then blink again.
Big Guy.
My heart is stuck at a standstill between slowing and speeding.
Me: Why did you change your name back?
Delete.
Me: I don’t want to call you Big Guy anymore.
Delete.
Me:
I set my phone down.
Dominic left this morning. He hasn’t even been gone a full day, and yet he’s still here.
Taking care of me.
I press my hand to my chest, then pick my phone up.
Me: Good thing you aren’t overbearing or anything.
Send.
Big Guy: You have a lifetime to get used to it.
I set my phone back down.
I can’t deal with this man anymore today.
Big Guy: Good morning, Angel. Are you staying home today?
I blink, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Then I see it’s six a.m., meaning it’s four where he is.
Me: Yes. And why are you up so early?
Send.
Big Guy: Up late but about to go to bed. Wish me sweet dreams.
I pretend not to smile.
Me: Go to sleep.
Send.
Big Guy: And a kiss.
I open the camera.
Me: *sends photo of my middle finger with the sleepy city in the background*
Big Guy: Rob told me you’re going to the grocery store today. You can order delivery if you want.
I shake my head and finish my work email before picking up my phone to reply.
Me: Husband, I do not want to rot away in this condo every day, morning to night.
Send.
Big Guy: So touchy. It’s okay. I know you’re grouchy because you miss me.
I set the phone back down.
I have work to do.
But my mind won’t let me focus on the site I’m in the middle of building because the fucker is right.
I shove away from my desk and stomp all the way downstairs.
I just need coffee. I don’t miss Dominic Gonzalez.
Big Guy: Valentine.
I reach out and pause the movie.
Me: What?
Send.
My phone vibrates, showing Dominic calling. No…
I groan.
It’s a video call.
I debate not answering for a long moment, but I know Dom enough to know he’ll just keep calling.
Sighing, I hit answer.
“Angel.” Dominic’s tone is scolding.
“What?”
“Valentine, pick the phone up.”
“I don’t want to,” I tell him.
I answered the call but left the phone lying on the bed next to me, camera aimed at the ceiling.
“Why not?” He sounds curious, not mad. And with all the security around here, it’s not like he’s afraid I’m in bed with a man.
“Because I’m not dressed for company.”
He groans. “Are you naked?”
“What? No.”
“Then show me your pretty face.”
I grit my teeth. Charming Dominic is so obnoxious.
“Fine.” I huff out a breath and pick up the phone.
I watch his handsome face as his eyes trail over mine.
This was supposed to be my night of pampering, but it’s turned into a night of Dom.
“That the same mask you used on Halloween?” Dominic asks, and his question slices through my chest.
I started my period the day he left, and my hormones have been all over the place. I’m a few days in, past the worst of it, but my heart still feels wrung out.
Before I realize it’s happening, a tear tracks down my cheek, leaving a trail in the clay mask I’m wearing.
Dominic pulls his phone closer. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head and quickly dab at my cheek with a tissue so I don’t melt my mask.
“Did something happen?”
I shake my head again.
“Val.” His voice softens. “Talk to me.”
More tears drip from my eyes, but I don’t speak.
I try to blink through it, wanting to just hang up but knowing that won’t make anything better.
Dominic’s screen shifts as he starts walking. I can’t see much of the background, but it looks like a warehouse.
His screen goes dark as he walks into a new room, then Dom flips a light on, and his image comes back to life.
I can hear him shut a door before he turns and leans against it.
“Shorty. Tell me what’s going on.” A command this time.
And I can’t help myself.
“I miss you.” The sentence is cracked with emotion.
The side of his mouth pulls up. “I’ll be home in a few days.”
I shake my head as I admit, “I miss the you from before.”
The side of his mouth lowers. “What do you mean?”
“I want it to be like it was, Dom. I want—I want to feel special again. Like I did before. Like I did when I believed you wanted me.” I press my palm against my chest. “Just me. Not the stupid Alliance.”
“Angel.”
“Just let me say it,” I plead.
Dom slowly nods. “Okay.”
I look down, away from the phone. “Those weeks after we met, when we were messaging… They were special to me. And I want to keep them, the memory of them. But it feels like they’ve been poisoned. Because every time I’m reminded about one of our conversations, I feel… I feel so fucking stupid.” My breath hitches, and I give up on being careful and wipe away more tears. “Because each time, I was talking to someone I thought might fall in love with me. Someone I thought was so interested in me that he needed to hear from me every day.” I inhale deeply. “You would always tell me to make your day better. And each time you did that, you made me feel useful. Needed.” Another slow breath. “But when I sent you that picture of me wearing this face mask on Halloween, I was flirting. Or trying to. And all the while, you were sitting at home, stringing me along, so that someday you could trick me into marrying you.” I finally raise my eyes back up to look at him. “And it hurts, Dominic. It hurts a lot.”
“Val.” His tone is so soft. “I’m…” He won’t say he’s sorry.
I save both of us from the silence that would surely follow. “The worst part is that I believe you.” My shoulders sag. “You told me that you never lied about yourself in our conversations. And I believe you. But it was still fake. It was all just an illusion. And I’m having a hard time putting the two versions of you together in my head.” The tears I thought were done drip from my lashes again. “And I hate myself for wanting to accept it. Because you don’t deserve for me to accept it. But I deserve to be happy.” I breathe and say it again. “I deserve to be happy.”
Dom’s blue eyes are locked on mine. Filled with… something.
“So.” I sniffle. “I’m going to go wash my face, and then I’m going to finish watching this movie in bed. And I’m going to keep feeling sorry for myself until I fall asleep.”
“What movie are you watching?” He almost whispers the question.
“The Fugitive,” I whisper back.
“Valentine.” His throat moves on a swallow. “I can make you happy.”
I bite into my bottom lip. But I don’t want to hear any more promises.
“Goodnight, Dom.”
As I press the button to hang up the call, I hear a muffled pop. But I’m already touching the screen, and the call ends.