by Emma Hart
“Yeah.”
“I’d take out any motherfucker in the path between me and her,” he said honestly, looking me dead in the eye. “You’ve been in love with her for, what? Ten years? And now the chance is finally here? Fuck, Dom. You can’t let it go. Even if she tells you no in the end, you have to fight for her. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
“She doesn’t think it’ll work.”
“Neither did Peyton and now I think she spends more time with Briony than I do.” His lips twitched to one side. “She picked her up from preschool and took her to the movies last week. You just have to prove to Chloe that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to convince her it’ll work. No matter what it takes.”
“Easier said than done,” I muttered.
A happy sigh sounded from the doorway as Peyton walked back in. “What are we talking about?”
“The draft,” Elliott said without batting an eyelid.
“Is a window open?” she asked.
“The football draft.”
“Oh. I don’t care about that. Carry on.” She picked up her phone and scrolled.
“Did you talk to Chloe?” I sat up straight.
She peered over at me. “No. I had a pee. Why would I talk to her while I pee unless she’s here and can bring me more toilet paper?”
I wanted to believe her, but the sparkle in her eye said she knew a lot of things I didn’t.
And, unfortunately for me, I had the feeling my sister had spilled enough secrets for one night.
Chapter Seventeen – Chloe
Sometimes, you just have to be honest.
Maybe not so blunt, though.
I had a plan.
After too much ice-cream and pizza culminating in a trip to a drive-thru cocktail place, Mellie stayed the night. We watched endless episodes of Friends, mostly the ones that consisted of Ross and Rachel’s relationship, and formed a plan.
I was going to go to work today, pull up my big girl panties, and come clean.
Honesty, I felt like I was surrendering to the cops, and I hadn’t even done anything wrong.
No. We’d come to the conclusion that the only way I could be remotely successful at moving on was if I bit the bullet and was completely honest. If I decided to move on from my feelings toward Dom, I had to clear the air and let them all out.
So. I was going to walk into the office, put my foot down, and admit to him that I was in love with him and had been for a long time.
At least, that was my plan.
Like I said. I had one. Whether or not I was coherent enough to execute it was a whole other story.
I sipped on my iced Starbucks coffee and bumped the main door open with my hip. It swung open easily, and my stomach skipped at the thought that Dom was already inside.
Luckily, the locked door to the office brought me some time. I dug my keys out of my purse and unlocked it. It was eerily silent, but I was thankful for it.
Actually, no. I wasn’t. Silence meant one thing; overthinking.
How was I supposed to tell Dom the truth? After what I’d said to him last night… Jesus, I was going to look like I had a split personality. It damn well felt like it for the most part. I’d been living a lie with him for years.
Our entire relationship had changed, and I didn’t know if it was for the better.
I was afraid. I was afraid that if I made the choice to try something between us, it’d go wrong. Then, I wouldn’t just lose the person I’d loved forever—I’d lose my business partner and my friend.
Even if our friendship was wildly fucked up. Then again, all the best friendships were fucked up. God knew the one I shared with Peyton and Mellie was at times.
Hell.
I sat at my desk, dumping my purse on the floor and my coffee on my llama coaster. My PC screen came to life with the nudge of my mouse, and I typed my password—that Dom apparently now knew—to get into it.
I didn’t know why. I wasn’t in the mind to work yet, but it was weirdly comforting. Mostly because I immediately went to my Amazon and clicked to stream another episode of Friends.
It was like a comfort blanket, and the familiarity of the episodes and the characters helped me not freak out as I waited.
Who knew it was so hard to tell someone you were in love with them?
Granted, I expected this moment would be when I was in a relationship and happy and knew the outcome. Instead, I was torn, confused, and had no idea about what would happen when I admitted to Dom exactly how I felt about him.
Our relationship was weird. So fucking weird. It didn’t make sense, and I wasn’t sure it ever would, no matter what happened. And I was okay with that—at least, I was pretty sure I was.
Either way, I didn’t have a choice. I had to be okay. Whether I made the choice to put this part of my life to bed or keep it alive, I had to be okay with the outcome in order to make that choice.
I sipped my coffee and watched my screen. I really needed a way out. Could I get a tunnel? Could someone smuggle me out of New Orleans?
I’d spent too much time with Peyton. I was being a regular little drama queen.
Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.
Couldn’t I write a love letter? Or was that too eighteen-hundreds? Was that a thing then? Was that still a thing now? I got them in elementary school. Awkward, hand-scribbled notes stuffed into my backpack…
And to think, I thought they were bad.
Nothing compared to adulthood.
Can I take back all the times I ever wanted to be a grown-up?
No?
Well, that sucked.
The door to the offices opened, and my head jerked up in enough time to see Dom still in the doorway.
My eyes met his. Did he see in mine what I saw in his? Confusion and uncertainty? Raw emotion and worry?
A part of me hoped he did.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi. I didn’t expect you to be here so early.” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
“Oh. I’m not working,” I said, right as Monica Geller screamed, “I know!” on the screen.
Dom’s lips twitched to one side. “You’re watching that stupid TV show.”
“You’re not allowed to call it that. I’ve never called your favorite TV shows stupid.”
“I’m pretty sure you spent the entirety of high school complaining about football.”
“I didn’t call it stupid, though.”
“Probably somewhere along the line.”
“Nobody keeps track of that.” I sniffed and paused the streaming. “How was your night with New Orleans’ hottest couple?”
He wrinkled his face up. “How did you—never mind.” He shook his head and hit me with a darker look than before. “How was your date with Baton Rouge’s most eligible bachelor?” He stormed out of view before I could respond.
I swallowed back a ball of nerves that ultimately exploded in my stomach. “Dunno. You’ll have to ask him. He’s the only one who went,” I called.
Silence.
Then, he walked backward into my office, one eyebrow quirked questioningly. “You stood him up?”
“No.” I shifted. “He just happened to already be on his way when I canceled.”
Dom moved, leaning against the wall. His arms tensed as he folded them across his chest. He didn’t say anything—he merely looked at me, waiting.
“I was drunk when I texted him.” I glanced down. “I didn’t even know until I saw his text asking if we were still on for the date when I woke up yesterday.”
Still, he didn’t speak. Just stared at me, his dark eyes piercing my soul.
I fidgeted with a small stack of Post-It sticky notes. “Mellie came over instead. She talked me down from a lot of stuff. I think.”
“What did she say?”
I let go of a heavy breath and said, “That it’s still okay if I’m ready to get over you.”
Dom took a deep breath, then shrugged one shoulder. “She’s right. It is. If that’s what y
ou really want to do.”
“I don’t know.” I put my foot on the edge of the chair and hugged my thigh to my chest. “See, Dom, here’s the thing. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”
His jaw twitched.
“Not a silly crush that I could get over in a heartbeat as soon as the next hot guy came along. I can’t remember not being in love with you, and I finally—finally—accepted that you would never feel that way about me. And you know what drove that point home?”
I was going to throw up.
He shook his head.
“You set me up with Warren.” I rested my cheek on my knee. “I told myself that if you set me up with him without question, I was right. Nothing would ever happen between us, and you did it.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “But I didn’t—”
“It didn’t matter that you didn’t know. How was I supposed to tell you? You’re Peyton’s brother. As far as I was concerned, I was just your little sister’s best friend, and I always had been. I had no way of knowing you ever felt anything differently about me.”
“Why would you?” he asked with a wry smile. “I was your best friend’s annoying brother. Like I could tell you.”
“So why did you finally do it?”
“You pushed me. You kept demanding to know who my perfect girl was without knowing that I was looking right at her. So…I kissed you.” He shrugged, looking at the floor. “Probably should have just used a thing called words, in hindsight, but never mind.”
The lump in my throat was almost painful. I couldn’t swallow it to save my life. “Do you regret it?”
He jerked his head up, his gaze slamming into mine. “No. I told you yesterday. I could never regret you, Chlo. And even if you don’t want to do this, I’ll only regret that I never had the balls to tell you sooner.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I said softly. “We fight. All the time. About everything. This is the only conversation I feel like we’ve had in two weeks where we haven’t been fighting with each other. That’s not healthy. No matter how many times you switch my pens or check the printer ink or do all those other things. All I ever do for you is save you the last slice of pizza.”
His lips twitched to one side. “You save me the last slice of pizza?”
I shrugged, sitting up straight, but still hugging my knee. “Yeah. You used to steal it all the time, and I guess, at some point, I just started leaving it. Doesn’t matter if it were fresh or twelve hours old and been sitting there all night. I know you’ll check the box, so…I leave it.”
Dom titled his head to the side. “I dunno. Saving someone pizza is about as close to true love as a person can get.”
Quietly, I laughed, dipping my chin to my chest. That was true. Pizza and bacon were the foods of love. Screw chocolate. I wanted someone to bring me a plate of bacon for Valentine’s Day.
My laugh petered out, and when I looked back up, he was still smiling. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“Can’t a guy smile at the person he’s in love with?”
“I guess he can.”
His smile turned into a smirk before it dropped, and he walked over to me. He swung my chair around, so I faced him, then brushed hair from my face. “Come on, Chlo. Let’s try. What do we have to lose?”
“Everything.” I wheeled my chair back and stood up, wrapping one arm around my waist. “If it doesn’t work, we don’t just lose each other; we potentially lose all of this.” I waved my hand around my office. “We won’t be able to go back to how it was.”
“How it was isn’t gonna change.” He stood, hands out. “What, you think I’m suddenly gonna stop losing my keys, and you’re gonna stop yelling at me about them? Or you’re gonna stop getting annoyed because I didn’t pay the internet company on time? Or you’re going to stop passively aggressively muttering to yourself in the kitchen because I didn’t take the used coffee pod out of the coffee machine?”
“I do not do that.”
“I have literally stood next to the door to listen to you do it.”
“Fine. I did it once.”
“I did it three times.”
“I don’t know what point you’re trying to make here, but it’s starting to annoy me.”
Dom grinned. “See? It’ll never stop. I don’t want it to stop. It’s who we are. We bicker over stupid stuff, but has any of those fights ever changed the way you feel about me?”
I opened my mouth and—nothing. Nothing came out.
Because no. No, it hadn’t. Not once.
Smugness took over his smile. “See? You yelling at me and calling me all the names under the sun on a weekly basis never changed how I wanted you or how I loved it. And you’re missing the big picture.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“I don’t want to stop fighting with you, Chlo. If we stop fighting, it means we’ve stopped caring. Even about the little things.”
I took a deep breath. It escaped with a shudder because I knew he was right. All the things we fought about, even the ridiculously stupid stuff, was because we cared.
“And, listen to me.” He walked toward me, stopping right in front of me, and raised one hand to my face. His palm was soft and warm against my cheek, and I bit the inside of my lip. “You don’t have to be afraid of us not working. There’s not a chance in hell that would ever happen. You’d kill me before we ever broke up.”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “Probably true.”
“Besides. I don’t even like you most of the time—”
“Gee, thanks, Romeo.”
“—But that doesn’t change the fact I can’t see myself spending the rest of my life with anyone other than you.”
“Which, in all honesty, will probably be very short. As soon as I have your life insurance policy in place.”
Dom stepped back and gave a mock bow. “I’ve already been pricing quotes for you. How about that for true love, eh?”
“Save me the last slice of pizza, then we’ll talk.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t know. I need to think about it.”
He threw his arms in the air, running one hand through his hair on its way back down. “No. You don’t. You’ll just overthink it.”
“I will not!”
“You will! I’ve watched you overthink adding ham to your pizza in the past!”
“Pizza is serious business!”
Dom rubbed his hand down his face. “I didn’t wanna do this, but I’m playing dirty.”
I did a double-take. “Excuse me?”
“We made a deal. Three dates with someone of the other’s choosing.”
Oh no.
“Both of us only went on one date.”
“Wait, but—”
“I’m setting you up with me.” He mimicked my standing by folding his arms. “And you owe me two dates to finish out this little experiment.”
“That’s not fair!”
He grinned, smugly. His eyes twinkled with silent laughter as they met mine. “Two dates. You owe me to get out of our little agreement.”
“Fine. But I’m not setting you up with me.”
“Doesn’t matter, Little Miss Stubborn. I already called it. You’re locked in.”
“I’m busy every night,” I huffed.
He shrugged. “So, we’ll go for breakfast.”
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
“Lunch, then.”
“I have plans.”
“Right now, then.”
“I’m bus—”
He cut me off with one sleek movement. His hand cupped the back of my head and his lips covered mine in a way that gave me no choice but to shut up and stop arguing with me.
And God, it felt so good.
Soft and warm with just enough pressure to make my hair stand on end.
“Now, you’re busy,” he whispered against my lips.
The break in the kiss lasted only a second before he continued. Slow and tender, his teeth grazed my lower lip as
both his hands cupped my face. My fingers crept toward his t-shirt, winding themselves into the soft cotton as I did the inevitable and gave in to him.
Until there was a rousing knock-knock-knock at the door, and we jumped apart as if we’d just been caught making out under the bleachers.
Dom grinned, cupping my chin.
My eyes focused on the corner of his mouth. “You have, uh…” I rubbed my thumb against his skin. “Lipstick. Here.” I pulled a packet of make-up removal wipes from my desk drawer and handed them to him. “Use one of these.”
He pulled one out and gave a thorough wipe of his mouth. “Better?”
I nodded.
“Now, go fix yours.” With a wink, he went to answer the door, and I ran into the bathroom, wipes in hand.
One look in the mirror, and I needed more than a fix.
I needed a total re-do.
***
This. Was. Ridiculous.
He’d all but corralled me into two dates with him, and he was right. It was playing dirty, because he knew I wouldn’t back out of it. He knew I’d agreed, and part of the problem with growing up with Peyton Austin as your best friend was the uncanny ability to never back out of a challenge.
She was the most competitive person I knew, even more so than Dom. Unfortunately for me, they’d grown up competing against each other, and I knew there was no way out of this.
No matter how I felt or what I wanted, I had to go on two dates with Dom.
And deep down inside, I was as giddy as could be. Terrified, sure, but giddy as fuck. Truth was, I wanted to go out with him. I wanted to go on a date with him and see if this could work. If we could really let our feelings control our relationship in a new way.
I was still skeptical. Sure, he’d told me we would work, but he wasn’t a psychic. He had no way of knowing whether or not we’d be together in ten years, but a part of me wanted to find out.
It wanted me to believe him.
I wanted him to be right. Above all else, I was in love with him, and I wanted to be with him. Even if I did kill him one day. I wouldn’t even deny it, but there’d be no doubt everyone on the jury would agree he deserved it.
There was no doubt he’d deserve it if I ever murdered him.
I probably would if he ever did it to me.
