by Sunniva Dee
I’m sober. I’m good. I don’t want to be drunk or hung over with Dominic. When we fall asleep, I’ll be on his arm, and when we wake up, I’ll remember every touch and every whispered word. Then, in the morning, I’ll make him breakfast.
Yes.
“No crème de menthes tonight?” he asks as if he can read minds.
I shake my head, my smile big. “Nope. New Year’s resolution.”
“Good,” he sighs.
42. FIXES
LEON
I’m writing checks. Everyone on duty last night has made their choice between a job at Smother’s sister club or a handsome severance package. The only staff I’m keeping here are Arriane and Christian, because the constant reminder of my meltdown is not something I plan to live with.
I’ve been luckier than I deserve. It’s the morning after, and I expected a subpoena, a knock on the door from the law—at least a restraining order would make sense. Pandora might not want to cause waves, but if the tables were turned, I’d sure as hell sic the police on Dominic for doing what I did to her.
The last time I lost it was two decades ago. On the fifth of May, at six in the morning, I stood at the bedroom window and watched my mother climb into her car to leave a violent marriage behind. I was seven.
When her sky-blue Buick Regal vanished from sight, taking the sun in my life with it, I howled until Father barged in and took out his frustration on me. He never could beat me into submission. What he did was beat me quiet, controlled, and controlling.
In my teenage years, once the world beyond our door had become mine, I vowed never to turn into the lowly, sadistic man my father was. Until last night, I upheld that promise to myself.
On New Year’s Eve, though, I overstepped my boundaries by robbing someone’s freedom. Sure, I enjoy restraining my girls, showing them how pain can elevate the pleasure I give them. I push, but I don’t go beyond what their bodies beg of me. My turn-on has always been female desire.
But I have learned that my armor isn’t indestructible, that I too can lose control. I don’t know what caused it, why Pandora slipping through my fingers tilted my world, but it did. Today I’m fixing what I broke.
“You called?” Arriane asks, leaning her head against the doorjamb to my office.
“Yes, can you do some shopping for me?”
She raises her eyebrows as she sinks down on a chair opposite me. “Sure, what do you need?”
“I’d like you to put together a gift. Here, grab a notepad. This might take most of your day.”
43. EPILOGUE
PANDORA
It’s spring break, and I’m eased out of my dreams by light fingertips. They move over my naked skin in a sure, familiar way. Still sleep-confused, I remain immobile until they form around my breast, causing the tip to pebble.
“You were moaning in your sleep, babe,” my love whispers to me. I don’t open my eyes. Instead I smile at his words, because I know what my moans do to him.
“Sorry I woke you up.” I curve my palms around his head to draw him close to me. My grin widens in the dark… Dominic and I sleep in the dark.
“Ditto,” he whispers. The hairs on my skin rise over the goose bumps his fingers create. Why am I always so easy for him? I arch into his hands, and he exhales, content. “Do you know that I love you, Pandora?”
“Yes, yes. And I love you, Dominic. So much.”
His mouth finds mine as his fingertips trace down my abdomen, dipping and finding my sweetest spot, caressing me through our kiss.
“You,” I sigh to him, “have magic hands.” I climb up on him and discern the ridges of his stomach below me. My hands glide up, play with his nipples until he drags me down.
I find him under me. Long, hard, and ready. When I slide him inside of me, he laughs breathlessly below me. “Ah, babe… this?”
“Yeah?” I rock against him, the pleasure building in me. Like I often do, I sink down, embracing him, needing all of my skin to touch all of his while we make love. I snuggle into the crook of his neck, enjoying the sensation of his grip firm on my behind, driving me closer with each slow thrust. “What about ‘this?’ Did you—” I’m panting a little. “—lose your train of thought?”
“Shit, I’m— Hold still…”
I try to, but I contract around him in the involuntary pre-spasms of my own climax. Early mornings are quick for us. Dominic lets out a small grunt, a sound I’m wired to react to. If I push down on him now, he’ll come—we both will. I see no reason to resist the temptation.
“Devil woman,” he breathes as he bucks against me, shooting all of his love inside of me. “Never listening.”
I’m still splayed out on top of him with his arms around me when his grandmother starts bustling in the kitchen. Soon, the smell of coffee wafts in, and Dominic flips me to my back, pressing me into the mattress in a last, tight embrace.
“Mmm. I never want to get up.” His words tickle the crook of my neck, causing me to giggle.
“She’s making breakfast, isn’t she?” I ask.
“Yes, this should be a good morning.” I feel his face draw into a smile against my skin, but he’s still not moving.
“What are you waiting for? Yesterday wasn’t good—didn’t you want me to meet your real grandma? The one I met wore two different shoes and spent more time snickering at herself, or in her words—‘that silly lady’ in the mirror—than acknowledging us.”
Dominic smiles one of those beautiful smiles I’ll never tire of. “What can I say—my grandmother is a happy senile.”
The months since New Year’s Eve have been quiet. They’ve been tough, and they’ve been blissful. Dominic and I haven’t officially moved in together, but he cleaned out his walk-in closet a while ago and ripped its door off the hinges in an open invitation for when I’m ready. With each passing week, I stay longer at his place. It is where I sleep through the night. It is where I thrive. I study better around Dominic. I am so in love with this man, and I am happy. Happy.
Happy!
Spring break is the lull in our intense workload. Dominic is sprinting toward the finish line in his last classes ever, while I’m taking an overload. I’m hell-bent on passing my courses with respectable grades, and then I’ll bounce straight into an intensive summer trimester to make up for my lost semester.
As I head to the bathroom for a quick shower, I think back to the craziest happenings I’ve ever been a part of.
We never contacted the police about Leon. Dominic insisted on it, but I just wanted to start fresh, not sully my new life with my old one. In addition, what transpired between Leon and me was my fault too.
Leon soon showed that he wasn’t about to abuse my trust either. The day after the assault at Smother, a gift basket appeared at my door. From within the truffles, the cheeses, wines, and chocolates, we pulled out a V.I.P. card with a year’s worth of luxury dinners for two at the Shisa Gardens, Leon’s family’s Japanese restaurant, as well as a gift card boasting unlimited drinks at Smother for the same period of time. The message hanging off the wicker handle was brief.
Pandora and Dominic:
My sincerest apologies.
Leon
Neither of us has returned to Smother, but on Dominic’s and my monthly anniversaries, we hit Shisa Gardens. The staff treats us like celebrities, complete with alcohol-free champagne and exclusive nine-course dinners not on the menu.
I’m toweling off when my phone rings. My father’s ringtone has been upgraded from the crickets Dominic playfully assigned to the sound of a man clearing his throat loudly. I roll my eyes when Dominic pokes his head in to hand me the damn thing. I’m ready for a regular ringtone now, even if we’re talking about my dad.
“Hi, Pandora,” my father says. “How are you?”
I inhale before I answer. It hasn’t been easy for the two of them to accept this new da
ughter they have, the one demonstrating willpower and backbone, who makes her choices whether her parents agree or not. My father almost put the Deepsilver apartment up for sale several times in the wake of our phone fights, but Dominic was always there to support me, help me stick to my guns.
I removed the FERPA agreement that allowed them automatic insight into my academics with the college. Now they can’t get updates from anyone besides me.
“I’m in heaven,” I reply to Dad’s question, catching him off guard.
“I… we got your package,” he manages, his tone gruff. “Your mother and I appreciate that you sent us that even if you didn’t have to.”
I feel my lip tremble with emotion and look up at Dominic. His eyes are on me from the doorway, hands gripping the doorframe above his head. His gaze softens, a small smile growing on his lips. “They got it?” he asks, and I nod.
“Those are good grades,” my father says, adjusting his voice through a harrumph. He’s right, which is why I framed the midterm printout before I sent it along with my plans for the future.
“Your letter, though, Pandora. You’re moving?” He makes it sound like a question, and to me this is Dad’s blessing—not of my decision, but of my being in charge of my life. Maybe we won’t end up yelling at each other today.
I told them everything I wanted to say in the letter, still I expected this conversation. “Yes. I’m leaving Deepsilver with Dominic, and we’re taking over his grandmother’s house, where he grew up, after his graduation.”
“Pandora, this is not a smart decision. You’re too young to commit to someone, not to mention—”
“How old were you and Mom when you moved in together?” I’m being rhetorical. I know the answer.
“Twenty, but we had plans, we were married, and knew that we loved each other.”
“Dad, exactly! We may not be hitched yet, times are different now, but we—”
“What’s she saying?” Mom’s voice is concerned behind him.
“Hold on. We’re calling back from the main line.”
I groan and hang up. Dominic reaches for me. Pulls me into him and hums his offer against my throat. “Are they going parental on you? I’d be happy to talk with your father, babe. Tell him my honest intentions.”
I snort. “Yeah, that’ll help. The man’s got super powers—I’m pretty sure he can commit murder over the phone.”
I jump when my cell blares again with the first notes of Beethoven’s No. 5, the Destiny Symphony. Da-da-da-daaah. Da-da-da-daah.
“Fuck, Dominic? Have you hacked every contact in here?”
My baby bursts out laughing. “Pick up,” he urges. “Breakfast’s almost done. I smell the eggs.”
“Dora?” my mother asks as if I’m the one calling. I swallow back the “don’t ever use that stupid nickname on me again” since I better pick my fights today.
“Yeah, hey.”
“I’m here too,” Dad chimes in, probably from the bedroom line. “Where were we? Ah, right: Pandora has decided to interrupt her studies to become a housewife on an island.”
My mother gasps. How does she pull off such genuine shock when she’s probably holding my letter while we speak? Dad twisting the truth doesn’t surprise me. Since he can’t affect my decision, I just roll my eyes skyward at him.
“‘Housewife in Stowden,’” I mouth to Dominic. He opens in an “Ah” and chortles quietly.
“Our house will be a total mess, Dad. No housewifing here, because I’ll be busy as heck. They say taking the degree online is much more challenging. Deepsilver has an e-learning campus—I told you that in the letter, remember?”
Dad grunts, displeased. He’s old-school and doesn’t believe online education renders the same knowledge as on-campus classes.
“But honey, weren’t you staying in Deepsilver to keep the apartment? Are the girls giving up their studies?” Mom appeals to what I anguished over for weeks, so I’m delighted to break the news to them. This I didn’t tell them in the letter.
“They will be fine, Mom. Destiny was just awarded a nice fellowship, so Mica and she are on the lookout for a cheap place to share in Deepsilver. Shannon is giving it a try with Christian,” I reveal, causing Mom to gasp again. “I’ll miss them like crazy, but…” I raise my eyes, meeting Dominic’s. “I can’t be apart from my boyfriend again, and he’s got a job waiting here.”
“But a psychology major, Pandora?” Dad jumps in. “You’re ready to give up on your dream of becoming a doctor?”
“Dad, it was never my dream. It was yours,” I say patiently. I’m not upset, because he won’t understand until I’ve told him. “And I can still become a doctor. In psychology.”
Yes, I finally know what I want to become. Dominic hasn’t been an all-fix for me, because emotional damage doesn’t heal with a magic wand. I still get panic attacks behind a closed door, and I still hate the dark when he’s not with me. My box of high-energy light bulbs came with us to Stowden for a reason, even if I might not need it out of my suitcase.
This semester I’m taking two psychology classes, and after my love heard me marvel over how easy these courses are, he said, “Are they easy for everyone? Or do they simply make sense to you?”
“Dad,” I go on, finally saying what I’ve wanted to say for months. “You thought locking me up was the way to keep me safe when I was younger, but I’ve finally understood how wrong you were. People grow into fine human beings without extreme treatment, and now I am scarred—”
He huffs, readying himself to interrupt. I continue before he can speak. “Good things came out of what you did to me, though.”
“Pandora,” Mom pleads, surely alluding to the “what you did to me” part.
“Thanks to you, Dad, I’m passionate about something; I want to help other people with wounds like mine. Psychological wounds.”
Their silence speaks volumes. Neither has a ready retort. They’re searching for a reply that can make me change my mind, and it’s time to end this conversation.
Dominic opens the door to the hallway and takes a couple of steps out. Then, he calls out, loud enough for Mom and Dad to hear. “Pandora, breakfast is ready. Sunny-Eggs and bacon!”
I only half-cover the speaker while I yell back. “Coming, Dominic!” I speak to my parents again next, removing my hand from the receiver. “Gotta go—breakfast’s on the table. Dominic and I will visit you guys soon, okay? Together.”
“Man,” I say to my love, dropping the phone on the bed. “So ready for breakfast.”
“Dear, little Pandora!” exclaims Dominic’s grandmother when I enter the kitchen behind him. “I noticed your purse in the den this morning. You two must have arrived late last night?”
Or at four p.m. “Yes, Mrs. Davide, we did.”
“Oh!” She swats at me. “Please call me Pearl. Dominic, she is so pretty, even prettier than on your videos!”
I send him a puzzled glance, and Dominic laughs. “Skype, Grandma. On Skype.”
“That Skype is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” She smiles, nodding at me while she scoops bacon onto our plates. “Sweetie, I feel like I know you already.”
The assisted living facility she lives in is beautiful, and so is this woman. She doesn’t miss Dominic’s subtle move when he forms a hand around my neck, massaging.
“You got her, didn’t you?” She winks at him. “You didn’t come easily I hear, though,” she says, swinging to me.
“Grandma, please—you’re embarrassing her.”
She leans in over the table, whispering loudly to me. “You know, you’re the first girlfriend he’s brought home since Melissa in high school.”
“Enough, Grandma!”
“It’s okay, Dominic.” I smile, because really, it is. Everyone has a past, and who am I to question his after everything I made him go through? I’m the one he chose. I’m the
one who’s about to visit the house the two of us will be living in.
This is ridiculous, but Dominic insists. We’re at the front porch of his childhood home, and I hang awkwardly in his arms. He lets out a playful grunt, insinuating that I’m heavy.
“I’m too much for you, aren’t I? Ha, you can’t handle me, little boy.”
“No? Hold on, I’ll show you how to, hmm, handle brats like you.” He tries to retrieve the key from his pocket—under my butt—which isn’t an easy task.
“I’ll help,” I say, but really I just cop a feel through the thin fabric inside his pocket.
“Ah, shit, don’t!” Apparently, it’s hard to wriggle away when you’re using both arms to support a human cannonball. Not my problem, because the balls I cup are of the lighter variety.
Somehow he manages to unlock the door, and we burst in, steering off from a vintage coat stand last minute. Dominic dumps me on a couch, and I squeal as he buries his face in my chest. He growls against me and raises my shirt, digging his fingers into my flesh and tickling me senseless.
“Mm, did you know you’re delicious? I think we need to christen our home now,” he mumbles, his mouth sucking wet kisses up my stomach, lifting my top enough to find my breasts with his hands. “Shit,” he husks, his voice heated now.
“Did you shut the door?” I pant.
He shakes his head, the tip of his nose digging into my belly button. “Doesn’t matter.”
I can’t help laughing. “Right, let’s start out with a free show for the neighbors.”
“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, not paying attention to what I’m saying.
“Dominic, should I not inspect this home you speak of before the christening begins?”
“Babe,” he moans like I’m dumping the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Fuck first? Guided tour of new home second?”
“Shut up,” I giggle. “‘Fuck?’”
