Love Her or Lose Her (Hot & Hammered #2)(11)

He scrubbed a hand over his shaved head and cursed.

What the hell was he doing here? He wasn’t even sure speaking with Rosie alone would earn him another chance. For damn sure, he was taking a risk approaching her in a roomful of women who might have encouraged her to ditch their marriage.

He supposed he could wait. Come back tonight, after the meeting ended.

Dominic brushed his fingers against the keys where they still dangled in the ignition. Before he could bring the truck to life, though, he threw one more glance at the house. And there she was.

Rosie. In the kitchen window, smiling at whoever stood beside her just out of view.

It was impossible to swallow the lump that formed in his throat.

Fuck. His hand grabbed the keys and squeezed until his palm burned. She was so beautiful. Enough to make his pulse clamor in his ears. This was why he was here, sitting outside a meeting where—rumor had it—a man could get his balls chopped off for intruding. He’d come because it was Saturday and he hadn’t laid eyes on his wife since Tuesday night. He hadn’t gone that long without being near her since returning from overseas.

A memory of her waiting for him at the airport caught Dominic off guard. A war had been waging inside him that afternoon, between anticipation, love, yearning to hold Rosie again. He’d been battling against the mental weight he’d brought home, as surely as his standard-issue camo duffel bag. So many men had lost their lives, men he’d befriended. Their plans for the future were still circulating in his head when he’d spotted Rosie waiting at the bottom of the escalator.

Dominic had grown up with one vision for his future. Marry Rosie. Work hard. Give her everything she’d ever dreamed of.

When he’d seen her waiting for him, so insanely gorgeous in a loose summer dress, her dark curly hair in twin braids gathered in a crown on top of her head, he’d thought, Oh God, she deserves more than I could ever give her. How could I ever make this woman happy? I’m just a soldier. The only trade I know is construction. How do I do this?

At the bottom of the escalator, he’d reached Rosie, taken her hand, covering the meager engagement ring she wore with his palm—and kissed her like it would be the last time, like a dying man, because he had no idea how to speak the words in his head out loud.

So much time away from Port Jefferson had given him perspective. He’d sat back and listened to the rich futures his fellow soldiers had carved out for themselves. And they’d not only called attention to his own lack of grandeur, but that of his father. That man had worked his fingers to the bone and he’d earned respect, given his family security. Had it been enough for him? Maybe being depended on would have to be enough for Dominic. To work, provide, and give Rosie security, since he couldn’t give her everything in the world. Everything she deserved.

What he’d given wasn’t enough. At least now he had his answer.

Dominic shook off the dark trail of thoughts and leaned back, retrieving Rosie’s red fall jacket from the backseat. Holding it beneath his arm, he walked toward the house, the sounds of laughter growing louder as he got closer to the front door. He debated knocking, but set aside that plan almost immediately. No one would hear him unless he pounded the goddamn door down and pissed-off husband wasn’t the image he needed to portray. Even though he felt every inch the angry, resentful man, this close to carrying Rosie from the meeting over his shoulder.

For better or worse, wife. You said the words.

That thought gave Dominic the impetus to push open the front door and enter the house. He half expected to be spotted right away and possibly sprayed with holy water, but he stepped into an empty entryway unnoticed. He used the opportunity to hang the red coat on the hook to the right of the door, hiding it slightly behind a couple black coats. Up ahead, there was a crowd of women gathered in the living room around a makeshift bar and trays of appetizers. He immediately recognized the food as Rosie’s cooking and the restlessness inside him expanded. Where was she?

An oven door snicked shut in the kitchen and there she was. All alone, but looking happier than he’d seen her in a long time. She used the back of her wrist to push a stray curl out of her face and went back to arranging empanadas on a tray, adding a little bowl of pickled onions as garnish and sprinkling parsley over the top of everything. The recipe had been passed down from her mother’s Argentinian side and she’d perfected them in high school. Dominic had figured out quickly that the act of making the delicious, crusty meat pockets was a sign of Rosie’s happiness.

It had been a long time since she’d made them for Dominic.

He knew the moment she sensed him because her movements slowed, hands pausing in midair. He forced his features to remain schooled as she looked up from her task, clocking him in the doorway. The corners of her mouth turned down and wobbled a little bit, delivering a swift kick to his stomach. God, she really didn’t love him anymore. Couldn’t possibly. Not when her first reaction upon seeing him was sadness.

He took a few steps toward the kitchen, acutely aware that the conversation in the living room had flatlined. “Can I talk to you outside?”

Rosie shifted behind the kitchen island, the smooth bronze color of her cheeks turning a deep rose. Lips rolling together, she cast a look toward the living room.

Bethany approached, stopping between them, clearly unsure how to proceed. “Uh, hey, Dominic.” She tucked some blond hair behind her ear and widened her eyes at Rosie. “What brings you to our humble Just Us League meeting?”