Chapter 3
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He nodded, accepting the words but not using them as an invitation to be comforted.
I understood that.
Some grief didn’t want to be opened.
It only wanted to be recognized.
“Alex isn’t a nobody,” I said after a moment.
Dominic’s eyebrow lifted.
“He plays bass in a band called The Unfinished Apology.”
“That doesn’t make him a nobody.”
“He has a mohawk.”
“That makes him memorable.”
“He has no savings.”
“Neither did I when I opened my studio.”
“You have a business.”
“So does he.
It’s just noisier.”
Dominic exhaled, almost amused.
Then his expression sobered.
“I spoke to him.”
“You did?”
“Before I came up here.”
“You found him?”
“I called Vanessa.
She put him on the phone.”
“What did you say?”
“That if he hurt her, I would—”
“Dominic.”
“I told him I expected him to respect her.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
I studied him.
“You’re learning.”
“I’m trying.”
The admission settled between us.
For three years, I had thought of Dominic as a man who never questioned himself.
He had seemed certain in a way that made everyone else feel uncertain.
But perhaps certainty had only been the armor he wore because someone had to appear confident.
“Did you approve of the wedding?”
I asked.
“No.”
“Did Vanessa ask for your approval?”
“No.”
“Then why do you care?”
“Because I love her.”
“Love doesn’t give you ownership.”
“I know.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
He faced me fully.
“Love doesn’t give me ownership.”
The words carried across the rooftop with the wind.
I looked at him for a long moment.
“Good.”
His eyes lowered to my mouth.
The shift was so subtle that another person might have missed it.
I didn’t.
My heart began beating faster, and I hated that he could probably see it.
I had spent years observing Dominic’s habits, but I had never considered what it would feel like to be the person he was observing.
“Naomi,” he said quietly.
I should have moved away.
Instead, I asked, “What?”
“I don’t want to take advantage of tonight.”
“Why would you?”
“Because you’re angry with me.
Because you’re cold.
Because Vanessa is gone, and you might mistake my attention for something it isn’t.”
“And what is it?”
His gaze held mine.
“Something I should have given you a long time ago.”
The answer was too tender.
Too honest.
My defenses, carefully arranged over three years, shifted under the weight of it.