He stops in the center of the foyer. “For taking care of Dom. Me. Ryder. Just promise me that even if Dom fucks this whole thing up, you won’t write off me and the kid.”
I laugh and open the front door. “I have a feeling there’s not much your brother can do to fuck it up that bad.”
“Call me if you need anything,” he says, stepping out on the porch. “And thanks again.”
“Any time.”
He does what Dom does—waits for me to lock the door before going to his truck. I head back to the sofa and curl up with my tea and a heart that’s fuller than I ever could’ve imagined.
Dominic
“SHE SHOULD BE HERE ANY time,” Nate says, rinsing off his plate. “She sent me a text a little bit ago and asked if he was allergic to strawberries. Does she overthink everything?”
“Yes,” I laugh, tossing an almond in my mouth.
“She’s a good girl, Dom. I just wish that brother of hers would stop being a dick.”
“Graham?” I ask, sitting up.
“Yeah. I asked her about it last night and could tell it really bothers her.”
He keeps talking, but my head is out of the conversation. This issue has been gnawing at me since the night she came here crying. I go back and forth from wanting to slice his fucking throat to telling her to give in and call him—a very un-me kind of thing to do.
I just hate knowing she’s thinking about it when she gazes into the distance or his name comes up in conversation. To know it’s my fault.
“Are you working today?” he asks.
“Nah, they cancelled my schedule today because I was tied up on that job all night last night.”
“Got ya. I’m gonna grab a shower before Chrissy gets here to get Ry.” Nate takes off around the corner and leaves me alone with my thoughts.
My phone is in front of me. I spin it around in a circle, my fingers sliding up and down the smooth glass.
Do I or don’t I? That is the question.
The sound of my foot tapping against the floor starts to bother me so I stand, grab the phone before I can stop myself, and hit call on the number I looked up earlier.
As it rings, I pace. And as a cheery voice answers, “Landry Holdings,” the sound of her name is washed out by the tumble of white noise over my eardrums.
“Is Graham Landry in?” I ask.
“He is. May I ask who is calling, please?”
“Dominic Hughes.”
“One moment, please.”
I look at the screen. How I’ve only been on here for forty-two seconds is beyond me. It feels like an eternity already.
“This is Graham.” His voice is curt, cool, just as I expected it to be.
“This is Dominic,” I say, “but your secretary probably told you that.”
“She did. She’s efficient. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“Look, you don’t know me and I don’t know you. I’m sure we’ve both drawn conclusions based on what little information we have about the other. But that doesn’t seem fair.”
“I don’t know,” he contends. “I’m pretty safe in my assumptions.”