I don’t get into the nitty-gritty details of what happened at Dominik’s house. For example, I don’t tell Dax I came close to begging Dominik to keep working on this with me, or that I was a shameless hussy by putting my hands on the most private places on his body to induce him to have sex with me. It was so very shameful to use sex as a means to hold us together, yet I’d been convinced it would work.
But Dominik was right in the end. We both might have gotten off, but it wasn’t good. It was just… normal, and what we used to have was extraordinary.
No, I didn’t tell Dax any of that. Only that I went to Dominik’s house and made a very impassioned plea for him to give us a chance, hoping that one day we could progress to a point where we could talk about marriage.
“And so how did you two leave things?” Dax asks as he drains his coffee.
I shrug. “He asked me to leave his house. Said he couldn’t do this with me.”
Dax frowns. “What exactly does that mean?”
I shrug again. I’m not about to tell him we had not-so-great sex, and Dominik pointed out straight to my face that it wasn’t good.
Hollow was how he said it made him feel.
“He asked me to leave his house,” I repeat with heavy bitterness, as if that says it all. “He wouldn’t talk about it.”
Dax scoots his chair back from the table, stands, and moves back to the coffee pot. “I don’t think any of that means things are necessarily over between you two.”
“You don’t?” I ask, sitting up a bit straighter. Because things sure seem bleak as hell right now.
He spares me a glance over his shoulder before holding the pot over his cup and emptying it. He puts it back on the burner, then flips the machine off. “He probably just needs time to cool down. I imagine it was a blow to his ego that you said ‘no’.”
Every fiber in my being says this has nothing to do with Dominik’s ego and everything to do with his heart, which I had inadvertently damaged. “I think I really hurt him,” I mutter sadly.
Dax blinks. He can hear the shame in my voice.
Moving back to the table, he sits and takes my hand gently in his. “Willow… if you hurt him, then that means he feels very, very deeply for you. I mean, I suspect as much since he proposed, but if you had the capacity to truly cause pain, then I think that means there’s a good chance you can salvage things. Love like that just doesn’t disappear. I’d try to talk to him again.”
“You really think so?” I ask, experiencing a plausible feeling of hope for the first time.
“What do you have to lose?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I reply with a genuine smile.
“Then I’d work on your groveling techniques,” he suggests with a laugh, releasing my hand.
No time like the present, I guess. I push up from my chair, then lean over to give Dax a quick hug. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies with a reassuring smile. “And later, if you really want me to kick his ass, I will. But after the playoffs are over, okay?”
“Deal.” I laugh, nabbing my phone from the table. I head up the stairs to my room, choosing Dominik’s number from my contacts.
I listen to the phone ring, hoping he’ll pick up, yet really nervous at the thought of talking to him.
It rings five times before going to his voice mail, and I wonder if he’s still sleeping, perhaps in the shower, or maybe even just ignoring my call. I listen to his short message that’s all business-like. At the tone, I drop my plea. “Dominik… I was hoping maybe we could talk some more today. I’m really sorry for everything that’s happened, and well… I think we’ve still got something genuine between us. I know we can get back on track if we just try. At any rate, call me back. I’m free all day.”
I hesitate a moment, not sure whether to say anything more. Should I tell him I love him? Or would that sound disingenuous at this point? Maybe that I miss him? That’s truthful and accurate. Or maybe I should beg a little?
Ultimately, I just mumble another, “I’m sorry. I really want to work this out.”
I hang up the phone, tapping it against my chin thoughtfully. Maybe he’ll call back and want to meet up for breakfast. I should shower so I’m ready to go.
With a plan of action in place, I head to the bathroom, feeling hopeful that I’m on the right track.
♦
Dominik doesn’t call while I’m in the shower. I go ahead and dry my hair, put on a light dusting of makeup, and then crawl in my bed to wait.
It turns into a three-hour nap.
♦
I’m stunned by the For Sale sign in front of Dominik’s house when I pull up. After my nap, with still no word from Dominik, I knew I’d have to be a bit more aggressive to get him to talk. There’s always the option of giving him space for the time being, but I just can’t do it. I feel like our entire relationship is hanging on by a very thin thread that’s about to break. I need to salvage this now for my own peace of mind.
There’s a car in the driveway—not his Porsche—but the garage door is closed, so I have no clue if he’s here or not. There’s only one way to find out.
After I park at the curb, I make my way to the front door. I ring the doorbell, my heart pounding as I wait for Dominik to hopefully give me the time of day.
When the door opens, I’m surprised to see Mrs. Osborne—his assistant—standing there. She’s a pleasant woman but very brisk and efficient. At least that’s what I remember from the handful of times I interacted with her during my trip to Los Angeles.
Her smile is polite but aloof. “Can I help you?”
“Is Dominik home?” I ask, moving in a little closer to look past her.
She moves to block my line of sight, clearly setting up a protective barrier between me and Dominik’s house. “I’m afraid he’s not.”
“Where is he?” I ask.
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that,” she replies primly.
“Mrs. Osborne, you know who I am,” I remind her with a charming smile. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind—”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose his whereabouts to you,” she repeats firmly, and I have to wonder… did Dominik actually instruct her to not tell me anything in the off chance I showed up? Or is she just doing her job like she normally does?
“Why is the house up for sale?” I ask.
“You’d have to ask him that,” she says, clasping her hands in front of her body.
I’m not sure why the thought of him putting this house up for sale is so scary. It’s not like I expected him to move here permanently. I mean, why would he? He has no permanent ties here, and it’s not like even I make this city my permanent home.
But still… we shared a lot in this house. I guess I had envisioned us staying here together, and I realize how pompous it is to even think like that when I couldn’t commit to anything when he asked me.
“I assume he’ll be at the game tonight,” I press.
“I’m not at liberty—”
“—to disclose that,” I finish, disgruntled. “Yes. I get that. Is there anything at all you can tell me?” I ask, finally letting down my confident façade. “I really need to talk to him.”