❛ 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. ❜
❛ 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭. ❜
⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
"We see you!" His voice pierces the air, igniting a burst of adrenaline within me.
Just as I take...
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I find myself standing at the front door, my heart pounding in my chest, my hands clenched tightly around the strap of my bag.
It's been roughly two weeks since I last laid eyes on Domonic.
During that time, we've still been talking with each other but he hasn't uttered a word about the conversation he was supposed to have with his mother.
He'd assured me multiple times that he was working on things with her, but deep down, I can't shake the feeling that this isn't something easily fixed.
It feels like one day he's going to have to make a choice, one that could force him to decide between me and his mother.
As much as I love him, I can't bear the thought of him choosing me over the woman who plays a significant female role in Skye's life, the only female figure who has shown her some positive influence.
Despite my disagreements with some of her actions.
I linger at the doorstep, my hesitation growing as I try to summon the courage to knock.
It's not that I'm afraid of seeing him.
I think t's more that I know once I do, my anger will dissipate, and all I'll want is to throw myself into his arms, catching up on the two weeks we've spent apart.
But I can't allow myself to do that.
I have to put on my big girls pants and tough it out.
For myself.
My hand rises, knocking on the door, a deliberate, measured tap.
I return it to my purse strap, clutching it tightly.
I'm surprised the pleather hasn't given way entirely.
After a brief pause, the door cracks open, Domonic visible only partially, engrossed in a playful conversation exchange with Skye, his voice echoing down the hall.
I bite my inner cheek, suppressing a smile, maintaining a facade to convey that I'm holding up fine without him
But deep down, I think everyone knows by now that I do better with him by my side than with me alone.
He's become my rock and an addition to the support system that I thought only consisted of Nini and a pint of ice cream.
Domenic finally swings the door wide, his disheveled hair a testament to weeks of not taking care of it.
Stubble has overtaken his face more than I'm accustomed to, and despite a brimming coffee mug, exhaustion still clings to him.
"So sorry, I was—" his words trail off as he lifts his head and unexpectedly locks eyes with me.
His widened gaze reflects surprise at my presence.
I stare back, trying to keep myself as stone-faced as possible.
