“Dom?”
“Yeah?”
“You were wrong when you said I don’t want you.”
We lie in the quiet, the fan swirling above us.
“Cam?”
“Yeah?”
“You were wrong when you said we’re free to do whatever we want.”
My cheeks break into a smile as I say the words because I’m mostly sure she’ll still be here in the morning. Maybe even next week. And when she curls her leg around mine and crushes her body against me, I close my eyes and fall into the best sleep of my life.
Camilla
“YOU CAN TELL NATE LIVES here,” I laugh, peering into the refrigerator. “You have eggs, ham, some vegetables. There’s even juice!”
“I have food,” Dominic sighs, pouring a cup of coffee. “You act like there was nothing here before.”
I look at him over the refrigerator door. “A pound of bacon and a bag of cheese fries doesn’t count as food, babe.”
“I happen to really enjoy a good cheese fry.” He tips some creamer in his mug and settles at the table.
“That’s a snack,” I say, pulling out the eggs and ham. “Not a meal.”
I work around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. I thought for sure he was supposed to be at the gym this morning, but he hasn’t said anything. He doesn’t even seem rushed, which is odd for him when he has to train. It makes him antsy and irritable, but today he’s as calm as can be.
Looking up, I catch him watching me. Sticking my tongue out, I shake my knife at him. He laughs easily, happily, and picks up a magazine and leafs through it.
I cut the ham and beat the eggs, all the while keeping an eye on him. He seems different today. The lines on his face seem less carved and there’s a softness to his frame that is unusual for him straight out of bed when he’s still mentally going through his day.
It’s a good look on him, one that tugs at my heartstrings. I imagine this is what he would be like if he was in college and just getting up in the morning for class and not the laborer-turned-fighter. Or is it the other way around? Did he take up fighting as a coping mechanism for his father’s death or did he learn to fight because of his dad?
My knife clamors against the counter.
“You okay?” he asks as I scurry to pick it up
“Yeah. Sorry. I dazed off.”
His brows furrow, but he doesn’t call me out on it. Instead, he looks towards the door as Nate walks in with Ryder on his shoulders.
“Look who’s here, Ry!” Nate looks at me and grins.
“Camilla!” He holds his arms out to me, his little blue eyes sparkling.
“Hey, Ryder,” I say, wiping my hands on a towel. Lifting him off his father’s shoulders, he wraps his arms around my neck. “How are you, buddy?”
“Hungry.”
“I’m making breakfast. Want to help?”
“Yes. I missed you,” he says, pulling his face away from mine. “You’re so pretty.”
“Easy there, Ry,” Dominic says. “That’s my girl.”
“My girl,” he says, burying his face in my neck again.