Page 71 of You're The One
My lips lift into a half smile. “I think I’m good to walk, but thanks.”
We start in silence—it always takes a minute to break the quiet. I don’t know if it’s because we’re half asleep, or still trying to make sense of whatever this new thing is between us.
“Can we talk about the other night?” he asks, cutting through my thoughts.
I nod, even though I’d rather pretend that night and my freak-out never happened. When I look up, he’s already watching me.
“I hate how it all went down. With you and Emma. It wasn’t what I wanted, and I just… I want to clear the air.”
He falls quiet for a few steps, like he’s still figuring out what he wants to say.
“I don’t want to lie to her. Or to you. Or even to myself. I know the press paints me as some clueless playboy, but that’s not who I really am. I didn’t come here to mess around. I came here hoping to find something real.” He exhales, looking at the sand before glancing back up.
“I wasn’t trying to be vague or keep my options open.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I was trying to be careful. I care about Emma?—”
I get it. Ireallydo. But I can’t let myself fall back into all of this again.
“Dom, I understand.” I pick at a loose thread on my sleeve. “I know you like Emma. I do, too. You guys are good together?—”
“No.” His voice tightens as he steps closer.
I shake my head and continue, “I guess it threw me. Hearing you talk like every otherbachelor. I don’t know, it just… bothered me. But it shouldn’t. We’re friends.”
I force myself to meet his eyes. “And I want you to be happy. Can we just forget the whole thing happened?”
His jaw clenches, and I can tell he wants to say more.
“Can wepleasedrop it?” My desperation seeps into my voice.
After the last couple of days, after pulling myself back together, I’m not sure I can handle whatever he might say. I know he’s forming connections with everyone here, and ours leans more platonic than romantic. I’m shocked we’ve managed that after years of me hating him. I should be grateful.So why does it sting?I push it all aside. Not now.
He exhales, stepping in close enough that I can feel his warmth. His eyes search mine, back and forth, before he gives a sharp nod. “All right. For now.”
He turns and starts walking again, and I fall in step beside him.
“Our last beach day,” he says after a while, the edge in his voice gone.
“Last rose ceremony, too. After this, you’ll have to start breaking up with people the old-fashioned way.”
He shrugs, then admits, “I’ve never really dated seriously, so I’ve never broken up with anyone.”
“Really? Not even in high school?”
“Nope.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, I press, “Why not?”
He glances down at me, then shifts his gaze to the sand a few feet ahead of us. “Umm. Good question.” He lets out a short laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. “I think the situation with my mom kind of messed me up. Her leaving, not having a great example of healthy relationships. At least, that’s what the therapist said?—”
“You went to therapy?”
“Yeah.” He meets my eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with therapy.”
“Of course not. I’m a big fan.” I run my fingers through the ends of my still-damp hair. “I guess I just didn’t peg you as the therapy type, but I’ve been wrong about a lot of things when it comes to you.”
That gets a little smile out of him. “And that’s a good thing?”
“Yeah.” I tug my sleeves over my hands, fingers curling around the fabric. “Back to what you were saying…”
