Love Her or Lose Her (Hot & Hammered #2)(14)

“Oh my God. My ears.” Georgie snatched her car keys off the kitchen island. “That’s my cue to head home.”

Bethany leaned a hip against the sink, waving a paper towel at her sister’s retreating back. “Look at that. And here Georgie thought she was bonkified.”

“No one likes a one-upper!” Georgie called on her way out the door.

When only the two of them remained in the kitchen, Bethany and Rosie cleaned in silence for a few minutes, washing the larger serving trays and setting them out to dry, sweeping up chip particles and napkins. Rosie could feel Bethany’s gaze stray to her several times and knew her friend would probably let her escape without giving the details of what went down with Dominic. But Rosie had been bottling up the problems with her marriage for so long, she couldn’t do it any longer. And hell, now things with her husband were up in the air—and she didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

Rosie set aside the broom. “He wants another chance.”

Bethany dove across the kitchen island and propped her chin in her hands. “Oh my God. Tell me everything.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“It’s not enjoyment, so much as I’m utterly fascinated by relationships and how they work. You know, since I can’t keep one going to save my life.”

“You will.” Rosie gave her friend a look until that sunk in. “He asked me to come home. I said no. I think.” She winced. “I think I said no?”

“I understand. His sex-death-ray eyes wiped your memory clean.”

Rosie’s laughter was pained. “You saw that, right?”

Bethany straightened and crossed herself. “Woman, we all saw it.” She slumped back onto the island. “The chemistry is clearly still alive and kicking—that’s for damn sure.”

“Yes. But like I told you, everything else is . . .” Rosie made the sound of a cartoon piano falling and crashing on the sidewalk. “It’s supposed to be over. I’ve even dropped a few lines with people at work about available apartments in town. And now . . .”

“And now?”

“Now Dominic is asking for another chance. I’m supposed to have a good hard think about what he needs to do to earn one.”

Bethany rolled her lips inward. “Do you want to give him another chance?”

A line formed between Rosie’s brows as she thought back over the past five years since he’d been home for good. Moving around her own house like a ghost, trying to lure Dominic into conversation and failing. Wanting more professionally—personally, too—and not knowing him well enough anymore to broach the subject. She definitely could have tried harder. The more time that passed, the easier it had been to let sleeping dogs lie. Focus on the daily grind and let her aspirations slip further and further until they were unreachable. Now the situation had reversed and the success of her marriage was the thing that felt unreachable.

“No,” Rosie said, guilt settling on her shoulders. “I don’t think I can try again.”

Her friend gave her a sad look. “I’m sorry.”

“That being said . . .”

Bethany perked up. “Yes?”

“I’m kind of surprised, but . . . I don’t think Dominic is going to give up that easily. He wants his chance.”

For long moments, the only sound in the kitchen was the clock ticking on the wall. Until Bethany inflated one cheek and let out a “Hmmmm.”

“What?” Rosie narrowed her gaze at Bethany. “What was that?”

Bethany picked up a rag and started to clean off the counters. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

“You’re not saying something.” Rosie searched the kitchen with a sweeping look and picked up one of Bethany’s favorite fresh-cotton-laundry candles. “Spill or the candle gets it.”

“You wouldn’t,” Bethany said, and gasped. “I had that shipped from Bali. They captured the essence of a sarong drying in the tropical breeze.”

“You know that’s bull, right?”

A noncommittal sound from her friend.

“Okay.” Bethany pulled out a stool and settled into it, indicating Rosie should do the same. “I dated this divorced guy once. Way back in the day—like two threesomes ago.” She winked to let Rosie know she was kidding. “He told me after several margaritas that when he was on the outs with his wife, they went to . . .” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Extreme couples counseling. Like, I’m talking extreme. I think he even called it last-ditch.”

Rosie waited for Bethany to say she was joking. She didn’t. “Are you serious? Dominic talking to a stranger about his feelings? He gets uncomfortable when people cry on television.”

“Okay.” Bethany shrugged. “Say he says no. At least you tried. You gave him an option.”

Unbelievably, the idea went from cockamamie to brilliant in the space of a breath. “But what if he says yes—” Rosie cut herself off with a wave of her hand. “Never mind. There is a zero percent chance Dominic Vega goes to counseling.”

Funny, those words didn’t comfort her whatsoever. When she asked Dominic to try counseling and he said no . . . that would truly be it. Their marriage would be over. There must have been a tiny part of her that was still holding out for an improbable reconciliation, because she was almost scared to set herself up for that one final disappointment.