Page 64 of You're The One
Dom finally speaks to her. “You’re allowed to have feelings. And I… I never want to make you question where you stand.”
He looks at her as he adds, “Mia and I are just friends—for now.But I’m open to that changing. I’m here to find my person, and I see potential withallthe women left.”
That makes her smile, even if it’s a little sad.
I blink.
What thefuckkind of line is that?
I’ve heard at least one version of it on the season I watched in preparation for coming here. But I never expected it to come out of Dom’s mouth.
Is this how he talks to all of the women?
I don’t know why it hits such a nerve.
I see potential withallthe women here.
Who does he think he is?—
I’m not upset for me. I’m upset for Emma. Obviously.
“Mia,” Dom starts.
I hold up a hand. “Don’t.”
At this point, I’m not sure what I’m trying to stop.
Emma shifts in her seat, slowly twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. “You don’t have to protect me,” she says gently. “What he said is valid. This is what we signed up for, right?”
I have no idea what IthoughtI was signing up for, but it definitely wasn’t this. I thought I was coming for a nice escape. A fun vacation. Not so many… feelings.
I let out a breath, not trusting myself to speak.
Dom exhales, too, and the weight of his gaze settles over me again, but I refuse to look at him.
“We should probably wrap this up.” I push my chair back. “It’s getting late.”
Neither of them argues. Emma nods and stands. Dom stays seated, spinning his water glass like he’s still trying to make sense of what just happened.
I don’t know either.
But I remind myself: I’m supposed to be the matchmaker. Not the match.
TWENTY-TWO
What’sthat saying about going to hell in a handbasket? That pretty much sums up what happened tonight.
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day on a loop. And one thing is painfully clear—I’ve got to get my shit together.
We head to Chicago in a couple of days for the family visit. Which means being around my dad, my friends… and Logan.
I cannot be walking around like some lovesick idiot mooning over his little sister.
His little sister, who, at this point, probably hates my guts.
Again.
I was finally off her shit list, and what did I do? Opened my mouth and landed myself back on it—right when we finally had something. A friendship, sure. But maybe even more. Or was that just me?
