Page 63 of Yearn
My cheeks warmed.
We continued on with more corny jokes and superhero chatter. The joyful sounds filled the kitchen.
Even I laughed—an unguarded, belly-deep laugh I hadn’t felt in months.
It startled me, how good it felt to just enjoy my morning and not have to stress about anything.
For a moment, the world softened.
It wasn’t a busy, dreadful Monday.
It wasn’t my complicated marriage problems.
It was just pancakes and corny jokes and my kids giggling with a man who actually bothered to warm syrup and write Post-its about their school trips.
And that’s when the thought hit me, sharp and dangerous as lust.
Maybe I should just stop fighting this. I want him. He wants me. Fuck being. . .responsible. Right?
Was it time to. . .stop fighting the pull between us?
Stop pretending I didn’t ache for him.
Even though I was still married.
Even though he was younger.
Even though everything about this would be messy as hell.
I looked at him across the table—his big forearms resting casually on the wood, the curve of his smile still lingering from the bad jokes—and my heart did a strange, traitorous flip.
I’d promised myself a thousand times I would be more careful with the next man I gave my heart too.
Yet sitting there, laughing, watching him make my children feel safe and happy, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, Dominicwasn’t a mistake I needed to avoid but a life I hadn’t dared to imagine.
Dominic grabbed my attention. “Teyonah, do you want me to take them to school this morning?”
“Uh. . .I can do it—”
“You’ve got court prep this week. Right? Plus, their school is on my way.” He remembered my workload.
He fucking remembered everything.
Dom shrugged. “And, it gives me an excuse to tell more jokes.”
“Oh no.” J chuckled and began cleaning up the dishes.
“I like Dom’s jokes.” Oliver slid off his chair. “They’re super cool.”
The kids moved fast, rinsing plates and sliding them into the dishwasher like they’d done it a hundred times with him instead of me. Oliver hummed some superhero theme under his breath, and J corrected his pitch with exaggerated flair. Their chatter filled the room, but Dominic’s eyes never left mine.
When the boys carried their backpacks to the front door, he leaned closer, keeping his voice low so only I could hear. “I’m taking them to school. That’s final.”
The firmness in his tone made my throat tighten.
I swallowed. “Okay.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes. His words came out slow, deliberate, every syllable thick with erotic promise. “And then later this evening, when you have time. . .we will talk. . .a lot. . .and then we will. . .”
