Dominic must be . . .
Where was Dominic?
Rosie’s attention shifted over to Georgie, who—come to think of it—had been hovering around for the last half an hour, nervously eating way too many cookies. “Hey.” Rosie caught her friend by the elbow. “Did you happen to see where my husband went?”
“Oh, that.”
She raised an eyebrow at Georgie, who promptly deflated.
“I’m not sure what happened. He looked a little out of place so I went over to make small talk and he wasn’t feeling it. He left, Rosie. And . . . he wanted me to tell you he’s proud of you.”
Her throat muscles cinched up tight. “Why would that make him want to leave?”
Georgie sighed miserably and handed Rosie a cookie. “I don’t know.”
The cookie was inserted whole into Rosie’s mouth. “You know what? I just . . .” Her frazzled nerves spoke up, demanding to be heard. “I don’t even want to pick it apart. Actions speak louder than words, anyway, don’t they?”
She’d been excited about the date, bought a new dress, and . . . yes, she felt extremely crappy for letting Wes’s situation get in the way of her night with Dominic, but he’d seemed to understand. Had even wanted to help. And right now, his disappearance was just another in the long line of confusing and hurtful moves her husband had made. At that very moment, she wasn’t even interested in the why.
Rosie spoke around the hurt occupying her throat. “Should we crack open some wine?”
“On it.”
But the next morning had been a different story. Rosie most certainly had been interested in the why when it came to her husband’s disappearance. She’d picked up her cell phone off the bedside table, hesitating only a moment before group-texting Armie and Dominic.
Can we fit in a session this morning?
Both men had agreed with one-word answers, as if they sensed anything more elaborate might make her scream, which wasn’t altogether inaccurate. And the Dominic who’d showed up at the therapy appointment? Oh yeah. This was the Dominic she knew well.
The one who gave away nothing as he held the door open so she could pass through into Armie’s office. He’d been waiting in the parking lot when she arrived and hadn’t said a word beyond a gruff hello. No explanation as to why he’d left Wes’s house early. Left their date early. Nothing. He was back to being an impenetrable concrete wall.
The sudden change in him carved a chunk out of her middle. Or it started to, anyway. She was well versed in shutting down, too, it seemed. Closing herself off wasn’t as easy as it used to be, but she yanked on the switch until her inner electricity went off.
With her back ramrod straight, Rosie dropped into the cluster of pillows indicated by a too-observant Armie, refusing to look at Dominic as he sat down beside her.
They’d tried to make it work. It hadn’t.
Simple as that.
She’d called this emergency therapy session this morning because she desperately needed an outcome. Good or bad. Either she walked out of there with the missing piece to her husband’s puzzle or they completed the sessions and moved on with their lives.
Her mouth turned arid at the possibility the latter might happen. Was she prepared for that eventuality? On the drive over, she’d been rife with frustration and determined to either force progress or call it quits. As always, though, when Dominic was in the same room, nothing was cut-and-dried. Even now, when she wanted to shake him like a snow globe, she also wanted to crawl onto his lap and beg him to talk to her.
Armie fell into a sideways pose across from them. “Well, I hope this is important. I was in the middle of making my own blackberry preserves.”
Dominic sighed. “Is that code for an orgy in the woods?”
Rosie gasped and elbowed her husband in the side. “Dominic.”
Armie released a hearty laugh. “It’s not a code, but I am planning to share the preserves with my female friends, and there’s always a possibility it might lead to—”
“Sorry I brought it up,” Dominic said, tight-lipped.
“Obviously there is a great big elephant in the room, but I can’t read minds, so someone needs to start talking.” The therapist split a bemused look between the two of them. “Both of your auras are edged in gray and extremely murky.”
“Really?” Dominic drawled. “You wait until the fourth session to break out the aura talk?”
“Ah, that’s right,” Armie said, unaffected by her husband’s continued assholery. “This is the fourth and final session.” His twinkling gaze ticked over to Rosie. “You called for the early meeting. What would you like to say, Rosie?”
She swallowed hard, the sudden spotlight making her question her decision. “W-well, everything was going fine. At least, I thought so. I understand now that I was part of the problem, so I was trying to communicate with Dominic—”
“Say it to him,” Armie urged with a flick of his wrist.
“Oh. Okay.” Rosie turned toward Dominic and her heart started to beat faster, now that she was actually looking at him for the first time that day. No shave. Circles under his eyes. A wrinkled shirt. He looked how she felt. Why wouldn’t he look at her? “Um. I tried to show you my appreciation by cleaning your truck and making you dinner. And I thought we were . . . I—I guess I thought we were getting somewhere—”
“You weren’t part of the problem.”
Dominic still wasn’t looking at her so it took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her. “What?”
“I said,” he rasped, “you weren’t part of the problem in this marriage. Stop saying that.”
“I was.”
His jaw bunched and he shook his head.
Exasperation clogged her throat. “If I’ve done nothing wrong and I’m so perfectly perfect, why did you ditch our date?”
Armie let out a low whistle from across the pillows. “Ouch, man.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Dominic said.
“What was it like?” Armie prompted.
Dominic opened his mouth and closed it. Said nothing.
“Please,” Rosie whispered, bringing her husband’s head around. “It hurt me.”
He made a gruff sound into his fist, pressing against his mouth for long moments. “I was watching you kick ass with those women, Rosie. Doing what you were born to do. And it was so fucking obvious that I’ve been holding you back for a long time.” He shook his head. “I didn’t realize how much.”
“So you left because you felt . . . guilty?”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Rosie waited for him to say more, turning to face him when it was obvious he was committed to being silent. “If this is about the restaurant, Dominic . . . I let the years pass without trying to achieve that goal. Without going after the restaurant. I could have pursued my dream harder, too. This isn’t a blame game.”
His eyes closed. “It should be.”
Armie scooted closer, eagerness in every line of his body. “Tell her why. Right now.”
Dominic stared at some invisible spot on the wall. Minutes ticked by, but nothing came out of his mouth, and with every second that passed, Rosie encountered more and more dread. He really wasn’t going to offer an explanation. The expression “hitting a wall” had never made more sense than it did at that moment.