Page 4 of Domino
By then, however, we were already living together, and Cole was on the way. We never got married, since he says he doesn’t believe in marriage, and being as in love with him as I was, that was all right with me. But being pregnant and with no career of my own to speak of, I felt trapped. Still feel trapped. I feel totally stuck with this ticking time bomb of a man who explodes for the smallest reasons. And as the months, weeks, and years go by, he grows increasingly furious and violent.
“Is this really what you want Cole to think is acceptable behavior? Do you really want him believing it’s okay for him to be so disrespectful to a woman when he grows up?” I ask.
Ryan’s face is turning purple and he’s getting that sneer that signals we’re entering dangerous territory. I shouldn’t be pushing him like this. Not in front of Cole, but I’m so upset at being so terribly disrespected I can’t seem to control my mouth. I’ve finally reached the end of my tether with Ryan and his attitude.
Cole murmurs around with a mouthful of carrot and I look over at him, my love for my sweet boy overwhelming me. It’s then that I realize that I can’t let this all play out in front of him. He doesn’t need to see his father getting angry with me. The lessons I want him to learn, about being kind and respectful, aren’t going to be best served by watching his father scream at me.
Blowing out an exasperated breath, I look away, and without a word, I get to my feet and walk into the kitchen. I grab a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator and slam the door behind me. The bottles in the door rattle and clink together as I twist off the top off the bottle and throw it into the trash can on my way out of the kitchen. As I step back into the dining room, Ryan gives me a smirk when I put it down on the table in front of him, harder than necessary, then I retake my seat.
Cole is looking at me, his eyes wide and his face pensive. He can tell something is happening, and it’s scaring him. Wanting to reassure him that everything is all right, I give him a smile.
“Eat your dinner, love,” I say. “Everything’s fine.”
He looks at me, uncertainty coloring his face, but he finally gives me a smile and goes back to his food.
“Everything will be fine when you learn to do what you’re told,” Ryan mutters.
The anger is like acid running through my veins, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from lashing out at him. I bite my tongue hard enough that I wince as the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth. Rather than taking the bait, I pick up my fork and start pushing the food around on my plate, my appetite suddenly gone.
“I spend my day bustin’ ass to keep a roof over your head and food on the table.” Ryan’s voice is colder than ice. “All I ask is that you have dinner ready when I get home and to grab me a beer when I ask. And you can’t even do that without bitchin’ and whinin’.”
“Ryan, let’s not do this here.”
His eyes narrow and he looks at me with an expression of the purest contempt I’ve ever seen before. The pressure in the room thickens the same way it feels outside right before a storm breaks.
“Cole, honey,” I say, turning to my son. “Why don’t you go ahead and start gettin’ ready for bed? I’ll be in to tuck you in soon.”
“Nah. Stay put. It’s time he learns what it is to be a man.”
Cole looks between the two of us, his face etched with fear and uncertainty. I hate Ryan for putting this sweet, innocent boy in the middle of this. I hate him for trying to use our son against me like that.
“It’s okay honey,” I say to him reassuringly. “Go on ahead to your room.”
Cole jumps out of his seat, runs down the hall to his room, and slams the door behind him. Ryan is glaring hard at me, his displeasure written clearly upon his face.
“I told you to keep him here at the table,” he snarls.
“He doesn’t need to see you behaving like a child.”
“He’s my son. I’ll decide what he needs to see and not see.”
“Not while I’m around,” I mutter.
His fork hitting the plate rings out sharply as Ryan leans forward, his gaze burning with a barely controlled fury pinning me to my seat. I swallow hard and sit up straight, summoning up the nerve to refuse him intimidating me. He’s done it for too many years already, and I’m through with it. The moment he put his hands on me was the moment I decided that things are going to change.
“And who in the fuck do you think you are?” He glares at me.
“I’m the mother of your child. I’m supposedly your girlfriend, too,” I spit. “I’m not your goddamn punching bag, Ryan.”
His expression turns incredulous. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? I hit you once. And I apologized for it. It’s not like it’s a constant thing. I was pissed and you pushed me that far, Ashley.”
“Oh, right. It was my fault. How dare I make you slap me.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?”
Ryan’s expression is sour as he takes a long swallow of the beer that I brought him earlier, his eyes never leaving mine.
