Page 58 of Blind Spot
“I just wanna see if you blocked her or not.”
“You don’t trust me?” he asked, looking into my eyes. I was mesmerized by the warm, coppery undertones of his russet-colored eyes.
My heart twinged, and I handed his phone back to him. “Yeah, baby. I trust you.”
“I mean, do what you feel you need to do. I just don’t want you ever to doubt me. I need to know that you believe me. I would never lie to you.”
“Okay. I believe you.”
“Good,” he whispered against my lips.
“Areyou sure that you’re supposed to use bacon?” he asked.
“Yes. That’s how my daddy always made it.”
“You’re gonna give me a heart attack.” Dominic was so dramatic the way he rubbed his chest as I tossed the pack of bacon in the grocery cart.
“If you haven’t had one in all these years, and you’re still alive and kicking it, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Still can’t believe Mamá requested you to do this shit.”
“I think it’s like a peace offering. We haven’t spoken since Ramon and I broke up. That’s not usual for your mom and me. We spoke at least once a week, but I’ve been avoiding her calls.”
“I know,” he declared as he lifted a block of sharp cheddar cheese and then glanced at me with a raised eyebrow.
I took the cheese from his hand and tossed it into the cart along with a block of Colby Jack and two more packages of cheese. “She told you?”
He nodded. “She’s been asking me to have you call her, but I told her that you would have to do it in your time.”
“I know she probably hates me,” I groaned.
“No, she doesn’t. She wants to talk to you, and she’s not telling me what it’s about. She says that she loves you the same as she always has, and she wants you to be okay. She’s disappointed that you didn’t feel you could share with her what was going on with you and Ramon though.”
“So she’s letting me make the mac and cheese as a peace offering?”
His mother had requested that I make the macaroni and cheese for Thanksgiving. I had often made my dad’s recipe, and I wanted to do a test run before the big day. So Dominic and I were picking up ingredients for it during our usual grocery shopping trip.
“No. She’s letting you make the mac and cheese because your dad won’t be in town to do it this year.”
My father was going out of town for the first time to spend time with his girlfriend’s family. My father had met Adrian’s family, but he had never spent Thanksgiving with them. He was worried about where I would go for the holiday and invited me to accompany them. I declined, telling him that I would be just fine. My daddy wasn’t happy with that answer until I promised that I would be with the Strongs for the holiday.
My father had taught me how to make his macaroni and cheese when I was in middle school, and I had been working with him to make it every year since. He always attended Thanksgiving at the Strongs with Adrian. And his macaroni was always in high demand. While I knew how to make it, I couldn’t lie and say that I wasn’t nervous. I was extremely nervous about whether everyone would like it, and I knew that my dad’s dish had been a hit for several years.
“Which milk? Blue top?” Dominic asked.
I wrinkled my nose and shoved him aside. “No. You know that’s for our cereal, but not for cooking.” I grabbed the red top milk and placed it in the cart.
“My bad,” he stated, holding up his hands.
The music in the store switched from an old Mariah Carey song to Teddy Swims & Giveon’s “Are You Even Real?”
Dominic had been holding a carton of eggs. He placed them in the cart and walked around the cart to where I still stood by the milk. He pulled me against him with his arm wrapped around my waist.
“What are you doing?” I asked, giggling as he started swaying side to side.
“Don’t act like you don’t even know.”
“This is our song, but here?”
