Page 70 of Scandalous Lover

When I got to Dom’s room, I asked if his sister was okay, and he told me she had been in trouble at school again for skipping class and dress code violations.

That memory haunts me now. The idea that she could have been told over the years that her mother’s death was somehow her fault. That the man of the house considered her a sorry replacement for the woman he loved dearly. I don’t know how I could ever ask her about it, but I hope someone did. I hope there’s someone out there who tells her she deserves to be here, no matter how her birth changed the family.

But I doubt Dom is that person.

Somehow, my phone is back in my hand. Or possibly Inever set it down to begin with. I stare at the screen for too long, finally shaking myself out of the trance it seems to have me under. I check to make sure the ringer is on, so I’ll know the moment I get a message, and leave it on the counter to get dressed.

Another hour with no messages and I’m officially concerned. I sit on a stool at the kitchen bar and watch the reflection of the ceiling fan in the dark phone screen.

I should go over there.

No, that’s crazy.

I should send a message.

But what if she’s in a place where someone sees her phone and reads the message?

I don’t know what to do. My eyes drop closed as the impossibility of the situation starts to make my head ache.

The phone chimes so loud I nearly fall off the stool. I snatch it up and stand, more wide awake in this moment than I’ve been in hours.

A photo message from Naomi. It’s her standing in what I know is Dom’s living room, the panoramic view of the ocean and sky behind her. I can tell from the color of the sky that it was taken at least an hour ago, her face partially shadowed by the back lighting of bright sun.

She’s smiling.

I text back immediately.

Sam: Settling in?

Naomi: I’m officially canceling my gym membership.

A wide grin spreads over my face. I know exactly what she means by that.

Dom bought his island mansion while we were still in New York, haggling the sale price of the resort with the brokers. At the time, it seemed to me a show of optimism on his part that was wildly out of character. We didn’t even own the resort yet and he was already buying a house. He was the most excited about the prospect of the new resort, second only to me, and the idea of finally getting his own kitchen to create the restaurant of his dreams.

When we showed up on the island to sign the paperwork and Dom got to take possession of his new house, what we found there is the stuff of legends. Of all the squabbles and actual fights we’ve had as a group of four guys, never did I worry for the safety of my two friends as much as I did when they stood at the base of the hundred white stone steps that led up to Dom’s new house.

The only way up to Dom’s new house, we learned.

Avery and Ben had a riotous time poking fun at him while I tried to help him make the best of it. When he finally snapped and turned on the guys, it took all my strength to hold him back from pummeling them.

Over the years, we’ve all gotten used to it, but it’s still a sight to behold for anyone new to the island or Dom’s house. One hundred and six steps up and one hundred and six steps down. Each and every time.

He installed a handrail when Reina moved in, which I’ll never admit to being grateful for.

Sam: It’s pretty incredible, huh?

Naomi: Yup. He told me he prefers it this way. *crying laughing emoji*

While it feels disloyal to be making fun of my friend behind his back, I can’t help but smile again at that.

Sam: I’m sure he did.

Sam: How’s your new room?

Naomi: Huge. Gorgeous, of course. I’m sure I’ll feel right at home here…

I bite my lip and consider her statement. Being relatively new to extended text conversations, I still struggle with discerning tone. I decide to change the subject.

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