Just Breathe (23 page)

Is this how our relationship will continue to go? Me being squeezed into his packed schedule whenever he has time? I want someone who
makes
time for me, not someone who fits me in. Jason’s been nothing but available, wanting to see me. It’s like I’m seeing two guys without actually getting to see either of them.

Dominic’s biggest and pretty much only con is his lack of time.

Jason and our whole history works equally for and against him. Going out with him, even as friends, sort of says I forgive him for what he did. But it would be so easy to be with him again.

But I want Dominic.

He puts in the effort that Jason never did, but acts like I’m worth it. He isn’t doing it to lord over me or try to impress me. He genuinely doesn’t expect me to be wowed by his effort. That’s not why he does nice things for me, which only makes me appreciate him even more.

My phone buzzes with another received text.

Dominic: You awake?

My heart perks up.
Yes,
I text back.

A moment later, my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Mmm, I’ve missed that voice.” His voice is deep, dark, and delicious. I want to pour it all over my body and let it soak into every pore.

“I know the feeling. Hope that’s not all you’ve missed.”

“It is not. I hate calling so late, but work wrapped up early tonight, and I was wondering—”

“Yes. When can you be here?” My body wakes beneath a warm flood of anticipation.

“Twenty minutes?”

“I’ll be ready.”

It occurs to me that it seems like I’m at his beck-and-call, but it’s not really like that. His schedule has just been busy. I could be obstinate, and act like I’m busy, and say no. But I really want to see him, so what’s the point of acting busy and missing out on a chance to be with my new favourite person?

Short notice, but I sling on some comfy, but stylish clothes, and do a bit of light makeup. My hair’s dried in a braid, so I give it a quick blow dry and quickly have soft waves framing my face.

I’m slipping my feet in some comfortable ankle boots when there’s a knock at the door.

I throw it open, and Dominic sweeps me up into a hug that makes us both sigh. He strokes the back of my hair and squeezes me tight.

“I don’t get to see you nearly enough.”

“I know. I hate it.” I breathe him in, savouring his scent, running my hands down his back. Wait.

Pulling back, I examine the different texture. He’s wearing a suit, a charcoal grey impeccably tailored number that makes him look powerful and serious. Lawyerly.

“I’ve never seen you in a suit before.” I lock the door and walk with him to his car. The jeans he usually wears showcase his ass in a much more satisfying way than this suit.

“Yeah, I generally try to have the monkey suits off as soon as humanly possible. But I was driving by and thought I’d call you.”

“I’m glad you did. I like the suit, but it is a bit...”

“Stuffy?”

“I was going to say intimidating.”

He removes the jacket and rolls up his sleeves. “Better?”

Stepping in close, I loosen his tie, and take his hair down so it flows loose around his face.

“Now it’s better. More you.”

His gaze softens. “Is it okay if we stop by my place so I can change into something less formal before we go out?”

“Of course.”

We hold hands the whole way to his house, not speaking much, but sharing smiles and glances. He slides his thumb across my skin, and smoothes away how much I’ve missed him. I love being in this car together, held safe in the leather seat, my hand in his, alone in our own little world.

When we get to his house and I can’t remember the last ten minutes of the drive, I realize how tired I am. I’d much rather stay in than go out, but I’m content to go along with his plans. He looks mildly exhausted, but if he can make the effort for me, I can sure as hell do the same for him.

He tells me he’ll be ten minutes, wanting to shower too, so I settle in the living room, and flick on the flat screen TV. Finding a documentary about ancient Egypt makes me happy, and I haven’t seen this one before. Ancient Egypt has always been an interest of mine, and I’ve often thought that if I could have been anything else, I’d have become an Egyptologist. Even my favourite fiction involves it; Elizabeth Peters and Wilbur Smith are a couple favourite authors who do the subject proud.

I really wish we could just stay in and watch this instead, do something low-key together, hang out doing nothing. Dominic walks in, freshly shaved and smelling fantastic, and sits, fastening his watch back on his wrist. He’s in jeans and a soft-looking, close-fitting black sweater that screams “cashmere.” My fingers twitch at my side, but I refrain from touching it. I tear my gaze from the delectable sweater to his eyes, but they’re on the screen. After a minute, he looks at me.

“Would you mind if we stayed here and watched this instead?” He ducks his head a bit. “I know it’s just a TV show, and it’s kind of lame compared to a night out, and I understand if you still want to go out, but—”

I interrupt him with my lips, leaning in to kiss him hard and fast, leaving us both breathless.

“You have no idea how much I love that you want to stay here and watch this. I was going to ask you the same thing.” I stroke his still-damp hair.

He smiles and leans back on the couch, holding an arm up. Snuggling close to him I turn my attention back to the program, petting his sweater while I watch. It’s definitely cashmere, but I try not to purr at the softness. Dominic’s reaction to the show was a pleasant surprise; reinforcing similarities, and letting us stay in and talk during the commercials. I hadn’t known he was as into ancient Egypt as I am.

But now I have an idea for a date I can arrange for us.

“I’m onto your foul scheme. You trying to kill me with this sweater?” I ask when the credits roll an hour later.

“Confession? I bought it with you in mind, thinking you might appreciate its softness. You like it then?”

“Seriously, Dominic, I could roll around on it all night, and have its little sweater babies!” I blurt, running both hands all over it. “I’m sorry. It is making me sort of gropey.” But I can’t tear my hands away.

“Don’t apologize. I had no idea this shirt would have this unexpected benefit.”

“You know what I like more than this sweater?”

“What?”

Slipping my hands under it, I trail my fingers up his chest, and down his abs. “I like what’s underneath it.”

“Is that right?”

“Mmmhmm. But I’m not sure I remember all the details. I have a terrible memory.”

He kisses me. “Do you remember the way to my bedroom?”

“It’s that way.” I slide my hand south.

He scoops me up. “Your memory is flawless.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mary-Margaret’s husband is the curator at the Museum, and believes in the adage, “Happy wife, happy life,” so when I asked Mary-Margaret if he could hook me up, she said yes. The only downside is it’s going to cost me a few extra shifts. Basically, I won’t have a free Saturday for a month or two. But this is worth it. The date I’ve planned may not have cost much, and it may not be super exciting, but I hope Dominic has a great time. There happens to be a featured exhibit right now all about the pharaohs and The Book Of The Dead, which will be perfect after the other night.

With Mary-Margaret, and her husband Danny’s help, I’ve arranged an after-hours behind-the-scenes tour of the exhibit. We’ll get to enjoy the museum with no crowds, no noise, and then we even get to check out some of the items that aren’t on display. The museum can’t display everything, and some of the more choice pieces won’t be seen by anyone but employees—and now us.

It’s nice out, but a bit cool for the pencil skirt and three quarter-length-sleeved ballerina-top I’ve got on, as I stand waiting outside, a few blocks away from the museum. I’d only told him that we’d meet downtown at nine-thirty, and go from there; I didn’t give him any hints as to the night’s activity. He’d made me wait to find out what we were doing, and it’s my turn to launch the surprise. I’m playing it extra casual so the reveal is even better.

Man, I can’t wait to share this with him, I even came fifteen minutes early just to be sure I wouldn’t be late. Danny’s doing me a huge favour by giving us this experience. Saturdays are my least favourite shifts, but it will be worth it to see the look on Dominic’s face. Assuming he likes this and hasn’t seen it. Oh my god, what if he’s already seen this exhibit? No, even if he has, he won’t have the private tour with the extra stuff. We’re gold.

My phone buzzes, and I check it. Text from Dominic!

Dominic: Really sorry, can’t make it. At work. Call you tomorrow.

Gritting my teeth, I dejectedly jam my phone back into my purse. I was so excited about sharing this with him. This sucks. He cancelled on me fifteen minutes before our date via text message. I won’t be able to make this happen again. Ugh, it’s not just Danny’s time I’ll be wasting—there are a few other employees hanging around solely for us.

And what the hell was that message? Why didn’t he phone me to at least apologize in person?

My phone vibrates. Ha! I knew he wouldn’t just leave it as a terse text message.

“I knew you wouldn’t just leave it at a text.”

“Sexy As?”

“Jason?”

“You were expecting someone else, I take it?”

“Sort of. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to meet me for a drink at a quiet little pub?”

“Sorry, I can’t. I have plans.” Had plans. What am I going to do now?

“Okay. Well, call me if you change your mind.”

I hang up and sit on the bus stop bench in the dark. I guess I could just go by myself, but that’s kind of lame. Should I call Dominic and see if he can wheedle out of work? But no, he wouldn’t have cancelled on me if he’d been able to make it.

The museum is downtown but at nine-fifteen it’s way safer than it used to be even a few years ago. The city implemented a clean-up-the-core program, which basically only shuffled the dealers and sketchy types a few blocks away, but at least I don’t have to worry while I sit at the bus stop, debating what to do. There are a few amazing restaurants here that I’ve been wanting to try but I haven’t because they’re a bit pricey.

Arland’s is across the street and half a building down from my bench, full of beautiful people. I’ve only heard good things about it, mostly from the well-off library board members, but I’d love to eat there sometime. A cab pulls up, and I rubberneck from the shadows at the people about to eat at the restaurant my taste buds dream about. A gorgeous blonde in a red pantsuit steps out first, followed by a Razored and Tasered guy, clearly her partner, judging by the arm he snakes around her waist.

They look a bit familiar, but I can’t figure out why. Then again, all beautiful people start blurring together. Same small noses, huge eyes, pouty lips. Still, I wonder who they are. Are they a power couple? Investment bankers? Is she his trophy wife? Is he her toy boy? What will they order? What’s their story? I’m jealous of their imminent culinary experience.

Another woman steps from the cab, this one a striking brunette, model-perfect body showcased by a tight navy blue skirt, and simple creamy satin blouse, hair loose in shining waves down her back. She’s got to be a model; she walks with a graceful confidence that demands attention. I watch people inside the restaurant watching her. She’s got her own kind of power, wielding it with every step she takes. What must that be like?

The last to leave the cab is a man, tall, clad in a dark suit, jacket slung over one arm, sleeves rolled up. He’s got a very nice body, and his longish dark hair is...

Wait a second.

Dominic?

No. I can only see his profile, but that can’t be him; Dominic is at work. That’s not him. But even as I think it, my hand is inside my purse, fumbling for my phone.

Elle: Sure I can’t persuade you to run away with me? I’ll write a note for you to give to your boss ;)

Send. I keep it light, but I feel like screaming.

The man across the street reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. He shifts his angle just enough that I see it’s definitely Dominic. He smiles and types.

My phone vibrates. Text received. I’m holding my breath, but I don’t even know what I want him to say.

Dominic: I wish! I’m stuck here at work. I’ll be at it all night. Call you tomorrow. xx

Is this really happening? Returning my gaze back across the street, he walks ahead of the three people he’s with and holds the door open for them. The brunette enters last, brushing his forearm with her hand, and he touches the small of her back, guiding her inside the restaurant. The way they move together. Chemistry.

He’s on a date. He lied to me.

I set up a date for us that we’ll never get back, and he bails on me to go on a date with some perfect brunette and another couple. I mean, I guess technically we never had the “are we an exclusive item” discussion, but I didn’t think he’d blow me off—especially for a
date
.

God, I’m stupid. Why
wouldn’t
he blow me off for someone like her? She looked like she fit flawlessly into his perfect world. I’m just a poor ex-pothead librarian.

My mouth waters. I might throw up.

I’ve spent so much time over the past couple months we’ve been seeing each other waiting for him to call me. How many other times was I waiting while he was out on the town with gorgeous women?

I’m a moron.

Do I confront him? What would be the point? We never said we were exclusive. So why is my throat burning from the tears I’m fighting back? Screw this.

Pulling my phone from my purse, I scroll through and hit connect.