Page 69 of Hat Trick
“I fucking love you, Dominic. And I love Lil. I love what we have together. And I refuse to let you ruin it. It’s not an option.” He looks up at me. His eyes filled with so much emotional turmoil that all I want to do is get back on the ground and hold him in my arms. But I can’t. He needs to figure this out on his own. He knows how we feel about him. He knows how far gone we areor he wouldn’t have ran. “You should call your mom, Dom.”
Turning on my heels I open his door, but before I leave I look over my shoulder at him. His eyes still on me. “We will give you some space, but just so you know—we are so not done.”
1 Nothing Without You - The Weeknd
CHAPTER 42
WHEN IN DOUBT, GO TO MOM’S HOUSE
LILIANA
It’s been three days.
Three miserable, hopeless, fucking days, since Dom dropped the bomb in the middle of our perfect—or what was perfect—relationship.
After he disappeared I had two full days in the salon, so full that I was able to turn my mind off and work on autopilot. I know most of my clients could tell I wasn’t being myself, but I knew if I were to open up to any of them, the tears would’ve never stopped.
So, instead of continuing the cycle of crying, then talking myself down, and doing it all over again, I decided to go to my parents’ house. I need out of my apartment, away from the very place that reminds me of the three of us together, and so manygoodmemories that keep playing in my head like my favorite movie.
This movie just has me sobbing.
I’ve even missed, or more so ignored, allof Gigi’s texts and calls. She just so happened to be in the hallway when Dominic stormed out, so she definitely knows that something is going on. I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t stormed through my front door. But she’s giving me space, and I’m thankful for that. Wallowing in self-pity is what I needed, but I also need to pull myself out of it. So, before I leave for my parents I shoot my best friend a message.
Me
Hey so sorry I’ve missed all of these…
Gigi
I know you’re sugar coating all of this, Liliana Campos. I’ll give you until the end of the week, then I’ll be barging in there to make sure you’re okay.
I sit here, in my quiet apartment on the couch, trying not to break down again. I’m beyond thankful for the people I have in my life. My friends, my family, and?—
Emerson and Dominic.
But they’re not here surrounding me, drowning me with everything that makes them,them. I’ve been desperate to be in their company. But after Emerson went to see Dominic, of which he only told me after the fact, he said it might be best to take a breather for the week. He didn’t want to risk Dominic seeing us and thinking we were moving on without him. Because there is nowithout him.Emerson said he would make things better, and I’m trying to give Dominic the space that he clearly needs, but I don’t like any of this one bit.
Because what if he can’t fix it?
What if we all have to go our separate ways, like we originally set the rules to? Would Emerson survive that? Because I know I wouldn’t. The resentment toward Dom for calling this off would eat me alive if I were Em. But I’m not. And neither is Dominic. So, no matter how much I want to force his hand, I’m not going to make him love me.
Not wanting to go down this spiral for what feels like the hundredth time, I decide to finally get dressed in whatever I have lying on my bed—clean or not—and head out my door.
The only people who can pull me out of this funk are my parents.
After a drive across town, I pull into their driveway and I sit in my car for a moment, staring at my parents as they sit on their front porch swing. Laughing and thoroughly enjoying each other.
Once I climb out of the car, Mom’s up and off the porch, speed walking toward me. The moment she wraps her arms around me and asks, “What’s wrong, Liliana?” I feel myself break.
Well, I’ve been broken, but this is the sledgehammer to the already cracked glass that has been holding back the emotions. Horrible sobs are wracking my body, and my mom places her hands on my shoulders to pull me away from her, asking in a panicked tone, “Liliana, are you okay? What’s happened? Are you hurt? Do we need to take you to the hospital?”
I shake my head, and between sobs, squeak out, “They can’t fix a broken heart, so there’s no point.”
“Oh, sweetie…” She wraps me back up in a hug, and my dad steps up and is at our sides, squeezing both of us in his arms too.
And I sit there and sob. I sob until I’m to the point of dry heaving, and my head has more of a heartbeat than my heart does.
Eventually, Mom manages to walk me over to the swing, and we both sit down. As she rubs my back, comforting me like she has my whole life, she whispers, “I’m here, honey. I’m here.” She pauses a beat, then asks, “Who broke your heart, Liliana?” She has heat behind the question, and it brings a smile to my face. I clearly got the fire in my personality from her, and if anyone ever hurt us, well, she would be right there ready to go to bat for me, no matter what.
