Baby V (Chianti Kisses #1) (17 page)

“
Theresa... did Dom hook up with her
?
” I do
n’
t need to hear the verbalization of the answer. I can see it on her face as she sits in silence weighing her options. I think back to the time in question. Sure, I had known that Tanya had a massive crush on Dom. Everyone knew. But, I was wrapped up in my sophomore year of studies and was overwhelmed with coursework and bridesmaids duties to really pay attention.

Unconsciously, I begin to slump.
I’
m the complete opposite of Tanya. Sh
e’
s the epitome of a walking, talking guido barbie doll. Big fake boobs, dangerously curvy backside and way to much makeup.
I’
m the complete opposite, at least two-full cup sizes smaller and my own curves are nothing compared to the va-va-voom deadly shape that she paid a pretty penny for. If tha
t’
s what he likes, then how can I compete with it? My day just went to hell in a hand-basket. Fast.

I tune out Theres
a’
s constant assurances and attempts at distraction. The damage is done, although I try to appease my friend by pretending to have moved on. After a quick peck on the cheek and a dozen apologies for being the bearer of bad news, Theresa ca
n’
t make her exit fast enough as we pull in front of her building.

What other secrets of her brothe
r’
s is she keeping?
I’
m gonna drive myself crazy if I keep this up. I turn the radio loud and peel out toward the congested, rush-hour filled streets. I drive as carefully as I can, maneuvering in and out of lanes as my eyes blur in madness. When Rihanna starts to sing about finding love in a hopeless place on the radio, I grit my teeth hard.

I decide to take the long scenic route home, biding my time as I calm myself down. At this point, my irrational thoughts have escalated to slightly dramatic proportions,
I’
ll admit. Did Dom sleep with her? Was she ever in his house? In his room? IN HIS BED?! The same bed he had me sleep in the other night? Oh God. Stop, stop, stop.

After countless hours of mindless driving, I find myself in front of my old house, parked, eyeing the ruin of my childhood. With it being a weekend, the construction crew is no where to be seen. I take a mental inventory of the debris settled around the yard of the half-built walls and unfinished structure. I ca
n’
t help but make the association between this house and my life. W
e’
re much the same these days.  What promised to be a rebuilding, new beginning on both accounts, somehow seems to be just a pile of incomplete parts, nothing like what the blue prints promised.

At a time like this there are several possible outlets for my frustration, and I weigh them against each other. Drinking myself into numbness does
n’
t really seem like an attractive option. Not only would I feel like crap now, but
I’
d feel even worse in the morning. My first and hopefully last hangover last weekend is enough to deter that option. Shoppin
g‘
till I drop is out of the question, too, as i
t’
s now Sunday evening and all stores are closed early by now. I guess my third option is only one left. Indulging in a little old fashioned comfort food therapy.

I stop by my favorite ice cream shop on the way home and order a large banana split with extra hot fudge and sprinkles. There are few occasions in a girls life where ice cream is an acceptable substitute for dinner, but surely this is one.

I shiver slightly as my air conditioning is set to the max, preventing my sundae from melting during the car ride home. Finally pulling into my regular spot near the garage, I hold the precious cargo close as I rush into the house.

Stepping into the main entrance, I can immediately pick up on a different air about the place. Mom and Aunt Rosie are finishing clearing dishes from their dinner at the dining room table. Not just any dishes... the good china that I know full well they would
n’
t use for a quick put together dinner for just the three of them.

There are several pieces of luggage on the marble floor near the foot of the stairs. My breath hitches. Do
m’
s home. My neck flings around fast enough toward his office to give me whiplash. The door is shut but I can hear at least one voice from the other side. Acting quickly, I run into the kitchen to deposit my ice cream into the freezer. Mom jumps as I startle her and drops a dish back into the sink.

“
Hi!, Bye!
,
” My sudden appearance and disappearance must have confused the heck out of her.

I sprint up to my room where I run a brush through my hair and add some spray to set the style. A quick toothbrushing, touchup on my lipgloss, mascara, and perfume, and
I’
m ready to go. Dom has
n’
t seen me in almost a week and the last time he did, I was soaking wet in my bathrobe.

Carefully, I descend the stairs as gracefully as I can, aware that Dom can come out of his office at any moment. Reaching the main floor, I fidget for a second or so before leaning against the railing and crossing my ankles to try and look casual.
How does this look casual?
Right... moving on. I rush over to the main table and look busy rummaging through the pile of mail on the table. This is more realistic.

After fifteen minutes,
I’
ve pretty much memorized every article of mail in the pile. My shoes are starting to hurt my feet from standing on the rock hard floor. Tossing the mail back on the table, I begin to look around for someplace else to look casual as I loiter around his door waiting for him.

Another ten minutes passes and I begin to feel like a stalker. This is useless. For all I know, Dom can remain holed up in there for hours. I give up and head into the kitchen where I find mom and Aunt Rosie gabbing over some coffee.

They hush as I enter the room. Watching the two of them act like two little school girls caught passing a note in class, i
t’
s obvious that they were talking about me. Oh great, just what I need right now. This should be fun.

“
Hello ladies, am I interrupting
?
” I sarcastically interject into their girl talk.
 “
Ohh, this looks good I think
I’
ll have a cup
.
” I help myself to a mug from the cupboard and pour a large steaming cup from the cappuccino machine. Sliding onto the empty bar stool next to Aunt Rosie, I reach for the cinnamon on the table and sprinkle my drink before swirling the cup around to stir the liquid before I ask,
 “
so what
are
  we talking about, hmm
?
”

Neither woman is quick to answer, instead they begin to sip from their own cups. It must have been juicy, whatever they were talking about if they do
n’
t even pretend to try and cover their tracks. My drink is warm and bold, just how I like it. I sip it slowly while watching the two of them start to squirm. I can beat these two women at their own game. Why not have a little fun.

“
It looked like you two were gossiping about something good... so... dish
.
”

Mom stammers looking across at her co-conspirator for help. Aunt Rosie is slow to offer her assistance. Unconvincingly, she comes up with a thinly-veiled cover story.

“
Sweetheart, we were just talking about what we are going to get Cecily for the baby shower. W
e’
re just heading to bed though, so w
e’
ll have to just go to the stores and see what we come up with. Do you want to go with us tomorrow
?
”

Yeah....
I’
m sure that was it.

“
Ummm. No thanks.
I’
ve got some calls to make in the morning. But you two chitter-chatterers have fun
.
”

They both stand, kiss me on either side of the cheek and place their cups into the sink before exiting.

“
Good night, girls
!
” I call out sarcastically to them as they clear the room, their waning muffled giggles follow behind.

The two of them have always been close.
I’
m sure this temporary living arrangement has taken a bit of the widowed loneliness from them both. Finishing the last remnants of my drink. I search for any leftovers from dinner. The hot drink had awakened a hidden hunger in me.

My ice cream! How could I have forgotten about my yummy gooey sundae? Kicking my shoes off and prancing over to the silverware drawer, I carefully select the perfect sized spoon to devour my sinful dessert. I bop the spoon along while doing my best version of a happy dance until I have extracted the banana split form the freezer and tear open the packaging.

Scooping my spoon into the velvety thick pools of fudge, I twirl it carefully not to loose any of the valuable chocolatey goodness before it reaches my mouth. My eyes close in ecstasy as I devour the smoothness from the cold spoon.

“
Now that looks good..
.
”

I nearly choke on my mouthful of goodness as Dom leans up against the kitchen entryway with his arms folded against his chest. I take the spoon from my mouth and try to discreetly lick the remaining chocolate from my lips while avoiding eye contact. I know he could
n’
t have been there long, but how much did he see? Please Lord, please tell me he did
n’
t see me do the happy dance....

Confidant that I have no evidence of fudge left on my mouth, I become brave enough to raise my eyes to his.

“
It is. Do
n’
t get any ideas... i
t’
s all mine
.
”

Do
m’
s eyes are dark but playful with his trademark smirk plastered on his lips. I forgot how hot that smirk is. His skin looks tanned against the white long sleeve NYU t-shirt he wears with jeans. I stand frozen as he uncrosses his bulging arms and strides my way.

“
You should know by know that if I see something I want, I take it. Ca
n’
t I have a little taste
?
”

The plastic ice cream dish must be melting in my hand
I’
m sure. My body burns up as I fall into a slight trance watching this gorgeous man move. Remembering the glorious things that he made me feel, emboldens me. Dipping my finger into a mound of fudge from the dish, I apply it to my bottom lip as nonchalantly as gloss before lightly sucking my fingertip clean.

“
I do
n’
t know, can you
?
”

This can go one of two ways. Either I look like a childish ice-cream eating idiot, or as I hope, it looks hot enough to make him want to take my lips. Dom gnaws at his lower lip eagerly, planning his next move.
I’
m not waiting long as he takes the sundae from my hand and places it on the counter top nearest me. I swallow hard, knowing that what comes next will surely be my undoing.

He places his pointer finger under my chin to raise it while his blackened eyes stare down at me. We play some sort of erotic game of chicken waiting to see who will break the gaze first. The fudge on my lip is becoming sticky and I part my lips ever so slightly while trying  my hardest to resist the urge to remove the syrupy covering myself.

Dom looks as if h
e’
s fighting the same urge, and winning, but eventually he succumbs to it. His lips lower to mine before he lightly kisses my chocolate covered lip, grazing the tip of his tongue over the stickiness until it is gone. He covers my lip with his and sucks on it forcefully until i
t’
s swollen beneath. Releasing my lip, he pulls away calmly, licking his own clean before our eyes meet once again.

“
Mmm. Tastes even better than I thought
.
”

How does he do that? How is it that my body is practically convulsing no matter how hard I try to mask it, and he just looks sexy and calm as hell? I think fast, needing to speak to prove to myself that
I’
m not in fact paralyzed.

“I’
m glad you like it. But
I’
m still not sharing
.
” I pick up my sundae and playfully protect and guard it as I pass him and sit back down on my stool at the breakfast nook. It probably is
n’
t the smartest idea for me to be in such close proximity to him right now.
I’
m sure he sees the effect he has on me and I need to retain some sense of self-control over myself.

Dom shakes off my dodging him and turns to lean over the counter facing me as I stare into my desert, With a few more inches between us, I feel like I can restrain myself from acting like a blubbering love-struck fool for the time being. I swirl my spoon around the creaminess, occasionally lifting my eyes to teasing him again.