“Looks like you have some competition,” I wink, carrying the boy to the kitchen counter. I sit him next to the cutting board, hand him a strip of ham, and go back to preparing breakfast.
Nate walks behind me, lowering his voice so only I can hear. “I had a deposit pending in my account today, Priss. Seriously. Thank you.”
“Shhh,” I say, keeping my head down. “You’re welcome.”
“You’re welcome for what?” Dom asks, looking at us over the top of the magazine.
“For not beating his door down last night,” I say. “Did you hear him snoring?”
A small smile crosses Dominic’s face. “No. I slept. Strangely.”
“Well, he snores. Prepare yourself.” I look at Ryder. “How do you sleep with him sounding like he’s sucking in the house like that?”
Ryder giggles, holding the half-eaten ham in the air. “He is loud!”
“You little snitch,” Nate laughs, picking up his son. “Let’s get you in the bath while we wait on breakfast.”
They trample off down the hallway, Ryder’s laughter making the apartment seem so much brighter. I watch them until they’re out of sight. When I look back at Dominic, he’s watching me.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, setting the magazine down.
“I don’t know. Just what a little piece of sunshine that boy is.” I pick up the knife again. “I love how happy he is to see me. It makes my day.”
“Everyone is happy to see you.”
My cheeks flush. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah. I might not answer, but you can ask.”
“Jerk,” I laugh. “Were you supposed to go to the gym this morning?”
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
He kicks back in his seat, the sunlight highlighting the ridges in his stomach and the lines on his arms as he grips the back of his seat. “I was gonna go. Yeah. But I changed my mind.”
Looking down, I pour the beaten eggs in a skillet and arrange the ham in another. I don’t want him to see the smile drawn deeply across my lips.
“Does that surprise you?” he asks.
“Kind of. You usually go on Saturdays.”
“Maybe I needed a break.”
“Maybe I’m glad you took one.”
The air between us changes. The levity from Nate and Ryder are gone, as is the easiness of the morning before their arrival. Now we’re sitting a few feet from one another, albeit on opposite ends of the smallish kitchen, waiting out the other’s next move.
The story he told me has been on my mind since the moment he delved into the tragic events of that night. Even after he fell asleep, which was odd in and of itself, it was me that laid awake. I rolled away from him and cried. Then I moved towards him and held him tight, hoping some of my energy would pass into him as he slept.
I couldn’t tell him that it was him, not Nate, that snored. I’ve barely seen Dominic sleep, much less that deeply. But last night, he did. And I held him, prayed for him, wondered how much that devastating night impacted the man that has turned from an easy date to something that might be so special it scares me.
“You know, sometimes when I’m sleepy, I say shit I don’t mean.” His voice cuts through the air like a sharpened knife.
“Okay.” Forcing a swallow, I keep my back to him. Running a spatula along the bottom of the egg pan, I watch them puff up into golden pillows. “You didn’t talk in your sleep, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”