Page 225 of By A Thread
I charged across the street to the next block, my heart racing. Where was he? He couldn’t be gone. Not now.
I saw the cluster of people, the blue bus stop sign at the end of the block, and stumbled.
Could it be? Would he be there?
I took off again, my heart in my throat.
The sunshine was bright and warm on my face. It felt like hope. Like love.
And there he was. Sitting on a glossy green bench against a fence behind the bus stop. He was hinged forward, hands hanging between his knees, eyes on the ground.
“You forgot your pizza,” I wheezed out.
He tensed and looked up at me, an expression of hope so pure it stitched together every tear in my heart.
“Ally.” He was on his feet, reaching for me.
“Oh, hey, Jorge’s delivers,” a woman in a bright yellow jacket said to her neighbor.
“Man, I could go for a slice of pepperoni right now,” her neighbor said.
“Here.” I thrust the pizza at Dominic.
“Baby, I don’t want a pizza. I want you,” he said dryly. “I want to tell you how fucking sorry I am for everything. I want to make it up to you. I want to demand another chance.”
“You want this pizza,” I insisted, shaking the box.
“Listen, honey, if he doesn’t want it, I’ll take it,” the guy called from the bus bench.
“Remember when you told me that if I wanted anything in the world, I just had to ask you?”
Dominic nodded, looking at me very seriously. “What do you want, Ally?”
“I want you to open this pizza. Please.”
Reluctantly he released his grip on my wrists and took the box from me.
He lifted the lid, and for a moment, I wondered if the pepperonis had gotten sloshed around during my sprint. But then I saw him clench his jaw and swallow hard, and I knew my little message was intact.
He looked up at me, blue eyes burning with intensity. “I don’t have my reading glasses on me. Can you read it for me?”
Jorge’s pepperonis were huge. Dominic knew exactly what they spelled.
But he wanted me to say the words.
We stood there, a pizza box between us.
I wet my lips and took one last breath before the plunge.
“It says ‘I Love You’—well, ‘I Heart U,’ but you get the gist.”
The pizza box was sailing in the direction of the bus stop, and I was flying through the air, landing exactly where I belonged. In Dominic Russo’s arms.
“Woo! Free sidewalk pizza!” someone hooted.
But I was too busy being kissed.
He rained kisses over my cheeks, forehead, and chin. And finally, finally, Dominic’s mouth was on mine.
