Page 91 of Better Left Unsaid

As he approached the table, I stood up. Did I go in for a hug? Would that be weird? We never really hugged. Then again, we’d never gone without talking for this long. I decided to go in for a hug.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and snuggled my head against his chest. He smelled familiar. He smelled like Dom, and I relished it. “Hey, Dom,” I greeted him, my tone coming out more desperate than I intended. I didn’t care, though. I was desperate. Desperate for this spat or whatever the heck it was to be over between us.

But Dom was stiff as a board, his hand barely rubbing my back like it should’ve been. In fact, it just kind of sat there, barely laying on it. “Hey, Maria,” he said, his deep voice coming out monotone.Damn, why didn’t he sound desperate?Meanwhile, hearing him in real life sent a warmth coursing through my body—a warmth I’d been missing.

He cleared his throat and pulled back, going for the seat opposite of me. “I ordered coffee for you. Black, just how you like it.” I heard it in my voice—I was trying too hard. “I’m glad you texted.”

He leaned back with a hand around the coffee cup. “Yeah, sorry I didn’t respond sooner. I needed some time to myself, to think.”

I nodded, understanding where he was coming from. “Please, don’t apologize. I feel like we have so much to catch up on, though. Isabella misses you, but she’s really doing great at dance camp. At work, I’m writing a how-to article for the issue and I have to tell you, I’m—”

“Maria,” he cut me off, holding a hand up.

I raised a brow and gave him an inquisitive look.

“I didn’t come here to shoot the breeze or catch up,” he replied, his eyes narrowed but intent on me.

There was more he wasn’t saying, I could sense it. “Then what?” I didn’t move a muscle, but internally I frowned, wanting to curl into a ball and cry. Why couldn’t we move on? I needed to move on. I needed us to move past this.

“Maria,” he said my name gently this time before exhaling. “You can’t possibly think things are going to go back to the way they were.”

Tears stung my eyes, and I tried to steady my breathing, so he couldn’t tell I was getting all worked up—because I was. “I hoped they could.” Hoping for something wasn’t wrong, was it? Although, I was beginning to think it might have been naïve.

“Jesus!” he exclaimed, a hand flying to his hair as he pulled at it before raking a hand through it. “You can’t be serious. I told you I love you.”

And I basically respondedoh. I knew. I knew, and I couldn’t go back in time and change history, so what did he want from me? The worst part was that I didn’t even think if I could change it, I’d know what to say. Anything I came up with sounded lame.

I extended my arm on the table, bringing my hand as close as I could to him. He saw the gesture and reached his hand out, resting a hand in mine. I shut my eyes temporarily and sighed. I needed to feel him, for him to touch me, hold me. It made me feel closer to him. Because right now I felt so damn distant it wasn’t even funny. He was right in front of me, but with the way things were, it felt like we were oceans apart.

When he clearly noticed I didn’t know what to say, he cleared his throat and gave me a weak smile, causing my heart to swell in my chest and butterflies to fill my stomach. The effect this man had on me was unreal.

“I love you, Maria.”

Why did he keep saying that?

I licked my lips. “I know, but”—I shook my head—“you can’t mean it. It’s me. And it’s you. It’s—”

“Why not?” His hand retreated, leaving mine sitting there like a fool. “Because we’re friends?”

“No,” I replied quickly. “But, come on, are you sure?”

“Are you telling me I don’t know how I feel?”

“No!” This conversation was only making things worse. “I just”—I inhaled a deep breath before exhaling again—“don’t understand.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking up and mumbling something that I didn’t catch before gazing back at me. “I meant it when I said I couldn’t do this anymore, Maria. I’ve stood idly by and watched as you’ve dated all the wrong men. Men that don’t deserve to share the same air as you, let alone be with you, intimately or otherwise. I know we said we wouldn’t let emotions get involved, but fuck the rules, because I did. I fell for you, and I’ve been holding these feelings in for too damn long now. Have you never considered me?”

I blinked, my eyes still burning as tears threatened to come out. “I don’t know. Not really, I guess. It’s not because I don’t think you’re a great guy, it’s just—”I don’t think I’m right for you. I’m stuck in my ways and. . . and. . . I don’t feel like I’m good enough for you.

“It’s just, what?” Dom asked, his eyes dark as he glared at me, probably wishing he could pull the words from me.

When I didn’t respond, only shrugged a shoulder and swallowed, he blew outward. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s too fucking hard. I have you, and yet I don’t have you at all. I don’t think we can have it both ways anymore. I know you’re with Paolo now, so it’s a moot point, but even so I can’t have sex with you and not make love to you.”

My chin trembled and a lone tear ran down my cheek, falling in the corner of my mouth. I licked my lips and let the salty drop dance on my tongue. “I’m not with Paolo.” He had to know that. “And I hear you, so let’s not be friends with benefits anymore. Ever.” It was that simple.

He looked like he was about to say something. Maybe about how Paolo and I were no longer a thing, if you could even call us that in the first place. But he shook his head as if he thought better of it. “You’re not understanding.”

“Then help me understand because I don’t know what you’re saying.”Please don’t be saying what I think you’re saying.

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