“Nah, I made excuses. I didn’t actually apologize. I sure as hell didna change.” His brogue had thickened with emotion.
“Do you think you can now?” The question was as much about being a protective son, worried his mom might get hurt again as it was for himself.
“I can try. I want to. So, I hope this old dog can learn some new tricks and impress your ma.” There was another small moment of silence. “What about you and this lass, son? I could tell she means something to you, or you wouldn’t have been so upset.”
To Mitch’s surprise, he found himself telling his dad everything. Unlike with Olivia, where it was more a purge of negativity or his friends when he’d been torn between anger and frustration, now he was just sad. He’d liked having Domi in his life. Hell, he’d been falling in love with her.
Did he love her?
Hell, he didn’t know. If he didn’t, it was something close.
When he got to the end of it, telling his dad what had happened last night in the hallway to the bathroom, his dad was quiet for a moment. Mitch hadn’t spared him. He hoped he hadn’t hurt his dad’s feelings, but it had also been a chance to let his dad know how Mitch had felt seeing his parents’ back and forth over the years while the man was actually listening.
“Your Olivia is right. Terrifying woman, by the way. I met her last night. Your ma would like her. If you don’t want to be me, don’t be. I never chased after your ma the way I should have. I was too high in my pride, too afraid she’d reject me. I always waited for a sign from her. Then once I had her again, I took her for granted, thinking she’d always come back… Now, it might be too late, but for the first time, I’m going to try.”
The determination in his voice was encouraging, and for the first time, Mitch found himself hoping his dad could actually do it and make his mom happy.
“Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Go after your lass. Apologize. Listen. Show her what she means to you. And don’t try to keep all the communication confined to the scene. That’s no way to run a relationship.”
Hell, his dad was right. Last night, he’d done exactly what his dad had always done to his mom—run away without talking, made a unilateral decision about their relationship for both of them. Not because it was what he wanted, but from a place of fear and pride.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said, meaning it.
“Any time, laddie.” The warmth in his dad’s voice seeped into his chest, giving him a bit more courage. “I’m proud of you, Son. Even if she turns you away, at least you’ll know you tried.”
Yeah, but he really hoped she didn’t turn him away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Domi
The entire house smelled like her childhood, even though dinner had been over hours ago, and Ana was long in bed. It smelled delicious but unusual enough to be a reminder of why it smelled that way. She wished she could pretend it was just one of those days when she got a hankering or had planned out a menu to share with Ana and Rae. She’d cooked what her heart had needed because it had been hurt. Bruised. Broken.
Ana had been excited about the elaborate dinner and thought it was a special birthday surprise for her. Which was what it should have been if Domi had thought of it.
“Hey, stop it.” Rae poked her in the side, hard.
“Ow! I wasn’t doing anything!”
“Yes, you were. You had your ‘guilt’ face on, which means you’re thinking about something you think you did wrong. Probably something that wasn’t your fault, or the only person who thinks it would be a big deal is you.”
Domi rubbed her side, scowling. “I was just thinking tonight should have been a special dinner for Ana and wishing it hadn’t been a wallowing dinner.”
“And feeling guilty you hadn’t thought about making her a special birthday dinner, even though we took her out last night, right?” Rae asked dryly. Dammit. They really did know each other too well sometimes.
“Shut up. What are you doing?” she asked, leaning over. Rae had been scrolling through something on her laptop for the past few minutes, but now that Domi actually looked at it, she could tell it wasn’t social media. When Rae immediately tried to shift the screen away so Domi couldn’t see, it made her even more curious. “What is that?”
“Nothing.” Rae’s shoulders hunched defensively. “I mean… it’s a website. A blog.”
“Yeah, what’s the blog about?” Domi reached for the laptop again. “Does that say self-publishing?”
“Maybe. Yes.”
“You’re finally going to do it?” Domi squealed, clapping her hands together.
“I’m thinking about it. Maybe. I’m looking at what’s involved if I decide to do it.”
That was more than she’d been willing to do in the past. Domi knew Rae would eventually end up giving in. She was going to make sure of it. Rae was a great accountant, but it wasn’t her passion. At the very least, she could do both things. She was always afraid of putting her work out there, afraid of failing, but Domi believed in her.
“Do it, do it, do it,” she whisper-chanted, making Rae giggle. They both froze when Domi’s phone went off with the unique text message sound she’d assigned to Mitch. Slowly turning her head, Domi looked where her phone lay on the coffee table as if it was a snake about to strike. It laid there, quiet and still, totally innocent looking.
“Are you going to pick it up?” Rae asked. “I can read it first if you want.”
No. That was the coward’s way out. Which was probably why part of her wanted to ask Rae to do it, but she should look.
“We can do it together.” Picking up the phone, she leaned back against the couch, Rae setting the laptop aside so she could move right next to Domi and see the phone’s screen. Domi’s stomach twisted with a nauseating combination of hope and anxiety, but with Rae’s comforting presence snuggled up against her, she made herself turn on the phone and check the text.
Hey, Domi, I’m sorry about last night. It was a bad night and a bad time, and I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have. Can we get together and talk?
“Oooh… that’s a pretty good apology,” Rae murmured. “Do you think he wants to get together, so he can try to get back together?”
“I don’t know.” Domi chewed her lower lip, conflicted. Part of her was jumping for joy, he’d finally reached out, but another part of her worried he wanted to get together to apologize, then explain more about why he’d dumped her… and she’d remained dumped. “I hate it when someone says they want to ‘talk.’”
“Kind of hard to have an in-depth conversation over text message,” Rae pointed out, turning over to reach for her own phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Avery. She should get the latest update.” Rae pressed the screen and put it on speaker, so Domi could hear the phone ringing.
Shaking her head, Domi stared back at her own phone, trying to interpret the few words on the screen. Why hadn’t he called? Did he not want to hear her voice? Was he trying to respect, she might not want to hear his? Was he trying to manipulate her into actually seeing him if she wanted to talk?