Page 68 of Loss and Damages
Jeremy steps into the gallery and whistles. In the light, the senseless damage brings tears to my eyes all over again. All my china is destroyed, and Leo’s three paintings have long rips torn in their centers. Two angel sculptures I had on display are broken, their wings snapped off their backs. Hopefully, some, if not all, of the jewelry will turn out to be okay. They only tipped the display case over and shattered the glass.
“Oh,” Tara breathes, running her fingers over one of Leo’s paintings. “That’s terrible.”
“I can get those fixed. Then I’m going to send them all to his brother.”
“You’ve been talking to Dominic Milano?” Jeremy asks, grabbing the broom and dustpan I keep in the small closet that stores toilet paper and paper towels for the half bath Grandma Darcie installed when she first opened the gallery.
“He came out last night, spoke to Nick and Buddy, and he sat with me while the medic picked porcelain out of my hands.”
Tara kneels on the floor and begins to sift through the glass, carefully untangling necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. “Why did you call him and not us?”
“He’s been driving out to talk, and, I don’t know.” I don’t want to admit I have feelings for him, that I was stupid enough to fall in love with a man who lacks ethics and integrity and only cares about adding to his already bursting bank account.
Jeremy stops sweeping and scowls. “I don’t want you to see him anymore. He’s a billionaire bastard. You know that’s what the news is calling him since the sale went through? It’s dangerous to spend time with him. They’re still searching his building because of that bomb threat. He’s an asshole, Jemma. He deserves what he gets and it’s going to rub off on you.”
“Jeremy. He’s gone through a lot you don’t know anything about.”
He leans on the broom handle and pins me under his big-brother stare. “I don’t care. He’s a Class-A prick and doesn’t know a thing about how to be kind to anyone. All those families he’s going to evict, and now there’s rumors he’s buying up Oakdale Square just to tear everything down. He has no regard for people, and I don’t want that around Maya.”
I pause, my hand on the ladder I use to hang paintings. “You don’t wantwhataround Maya?”
“That. What Dominic Milano is. What he is doesn’t change when he’s around you, and then you bring it home when you visit. I won’t tolerate it.”
Jeremy’s ultimatum would have hurt if Dominic hadn’t already beaten him to the punch. “You don’t have to tolerate anything. He left last night and said he wouldn’t be coming back. He was only interested in me because of what I was to Leo. I’m done with the Milanos. You don’t have to worry about it.”
“Good. It’s not only that he’s a bastard,” Jeremy says, dragging the broom over to me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. Sitting on the floor, Tara watches, a silver necklace dangling from her hand. “He works with nasty people. Your life would be full of bodyguards and looking over your shoulder. Unless he started doing business in a different way, you would always be a target, as what? His girlfriend? If he decided to keep you and not toss you out after a week. That’s not you, Jemma.”
“I know.” Everything my brother said makes sense and nothing I haven’t told myself. I saw the way Athena lives, like a princess locked in an ivory tower, and that’s not how I want my life to be. She can’t file for divorce because Raphael would kill her, and what I know of their family now, I have no doubts. The Milanos may not be mafia, but they don’t live like us, either. “But it isn’t the money.”
Jeremy releases me and continues sweeping. “It’s not the money. I don’t care if he had ten times what he has. He’s not a good person.”
“Yeah.”
I take down Leo’s paintings and store them in the back room. Jeremy wouldn’t understand that Dominic was taught to fend for himself. Our mother loved us equally and showed us every second she could. He wouldn’t understand that I wanted to try to replace the love Dominic has lived without, and now I’ll never get the chance.
Dominic said he loves me but that he can’t be with me. That’s not love then, is it? It’s only a lie. My heart wants to argue, is that the part that’s the lie? That he doesn’t love me? Or that he can’t be with me? My brain knows the truth. He said he loved me because he knew Leo did. He only wanted what his brother had, and once he had it, he realized it wasn’t that great after all.
I’ll send him Leo’s paintings, and when they aren’t in my back room or my life anymore, I’ll move on. Nick has asked me out more than once. Maybe it’s time to accept. Jeremy would appreciate a cop in my life, but the thought doesn’t buoy my spirits.
We work through lunch and I write down a list of everything that was damaged. Nick stops by on his way in to town and tells me he emailed my insurance agency everything and CC’d me. I can stop by the agency’s office with the list, and they’ll match what was damaged to the photos. At least my artists will still get paid for their work when the claims are paid out, just not in the way they wanted to be.
Jeremy and Tara help me put out new items I had waiting in reserve, and by evening, besides the blank spaces where Leo’s paintings used to hang, the gallery is back to normal. I’ll open tomorrow, but I’ll call Ashley, explain what happened, and ask her to fill in. I need a day off, a break, without people aroundand without my phone. I should paint and replenish my stock, especially now, but ever since Leo passed away, my heart hasn’t been in it.
My brother and sister-in-law leave, and he makes me promise, again, that I won’t see Dominic anymore. Heartbroken, it’s all I can do.
I’m exhausted and dirty, and I bathe, sipping a glass of wine. It hasn’t fully hit me yet, that Dominic told me goodbye and that he won’t be coming back. Not to sit on my porch and sip a glass of wine, or to eat a meal in town, or to walk and share stories about Leo. He got what he came for.
I was an easy lay and all I can do is blame myself for being lonely after Leo’s accident.
It’s not a crime, but I’m suffering the consequences.
I don’t fall asleep for a long time, and I stare at the ceiling, too tired to cry.
Chapter Seventeen
Dominic
The bomb squad gives the all clear at noon, and I’m in my office by twelve-thirty, running on fury and caffeine.
