Love Her or Lose Her (Hot & Hammered #2)(28)

Chapter Ten


Dominic sat at the end of the dock and looked out over the water. Apart from the low hum of boat motors and the light breeze rustling the trees around him, it was quiet. So quiet. That lack of noise was what had appealed to him most the first time he’d come here. Where he lived with Rosie, there was noise from Port Jefferson’s busiest avenue, which was a mere half a block away. He could often hear horns honking while he showered.

Not here, though. How many times had he pictured Rosie at the end of this dock? Sitting there with her bare toes brushing the water, a mug of coffee in her hand, smiling over her shoulder at him as he approached. When he closed his eyes at night, he thought of her outlined by the sunset’s reflection off the water, fireflies dancing around her naked calves in the summertime.

Dominic turned and glanced at the house behind him where it sat on the slight incline. To someone who remodeled homes for a living, its stillness was almost accusatory. When are you going to make me look nice? it seemed to ask.

Summertime. Maybe he would tell Rosie about the house then.

He curled his hand around the set of keys so tightly, they abraded his palm. As always—lately—when he thought of showing Rosie the house he’d bought them over a year ago, that familiar panic crept in and burned his throat. Had he made the right decision? When he’d returned from overseas and started saving to buy this place, the kind of home they’d always talked about growing up, he was so confident that purchasing it would make Rosie happy.

His confidence in that was long gone. When Stephen handed him the keys a year ago, he’d come out of a fog and thought, Jesus, I have no idea if she wants this anymore.

I have no idea what she wants anymore.

He’d followed in his father’s footsteps, making the move that would give Rosie security, happiness. The way it had done for his family. But when Dominic had finally saved enough money and purchased the house overlooking the water, doubts had begun burrowing their way under his skin. Rosie had always dreamed of owning a restaurant. He’d known that, but he’d believed the house was more important. It would be their foundation. A place to expand their family. A place to grow old together. On some level, Dominic wondered if he’d elevated the importance of the house to satisfy his own needs.

He could have given her what she really pined for a year ago, but he hadn’t.

Now he couldn’t.

Forcing his breathing under control, Dominic paced along the dock, looking toward the two-story house where it sat elevated on a small hill, hugged on either side by pine trees. Twilight was his favorite time of day to come here and formulate renovation plans. Come up with ideas and discard them as not good enough. Rosie would want a back patio with a pergola. A fire pit. Some Latin touches, for sure, to honor both their heritages. He might have been born and raised in the Bronx, but with two Puerto Rican parents—one first generation, one second—the island’s influence had been sprinkled into most customs, meals, and holidays. When he was young, his mother would have her side of the family over for birthdays or simply because the weather was nice. The party started in the kitchen, expanding until, most nights, they ended up on the porch of their house. But he’d moved from the Bronx at a young age. His parents had entertained less with the distance between Long Island and the city, so he’d grown used to the relative quiet. The first time his parents came to the new house, though, he would love to see pride reflected in their eyes. An echo of the upbringing they’d given him, which included a place to gather. To be together.

His wife was sentimental about her mother, too. Come to think of it, she had a photo album stored in the closet with pictures of her mother’s childhood home in Buenos Aires. Maybe he could get some ideas for the renovation from there . . .

His thoughts trailed off and he gave in to the impulse to light a cigarette, taking a long drag and leaving it clamped between his lips.

“You have to tell her,” came Stephen’s voice from behind him, and Dominic turned to find his boss and friend joining him on the dock. “‘Hey, honey, I bought you a dream house.’ Problem solved. Separation over.”

Having heard the same song and dance from Stephen on numerous occasions, Dominic shook his head. “It wouldn’t solve the problem.” He sighed. “At this point, it might even make the problem worse. I waited too long.”

His friend was the only living soul who knew about the new house, out of necessity. Five years ago, Dominic’s initial plan had been to surprise Rosie with a house. To that end, he’d begun giving Stephen a small percentage of his paycheck each week to set aside, until he’d hit his goal. He didn’t want Rosie to miss the money or worry about all the overtime he worked to make up for the missing funds. He’d just wanted to give her something she could see. Something that would serve as proof that he would never let her down. Or forget about their mutual goals.

In playing the silent hero, though, had he ruined Rosie’s chance of reaching her own?

“Why are you waiting to tell her?” Stephen leaned against the post opposite Dominic. “I mean, I know you want it to be perfect when you bring her here. But you can’t decide on anything. I’ve drawn up nine sets of plans.”

An unsettled feeling weighed heavily in Dominic’s stomach. One he’d learned to live with. It had moved in during his time overseas and never left. He’d met so many soldiers during his service who had bigger, more elaborate plans for the years ahead. The money to make them all a reality. They’d put rocks—instead of small, simple diamonds—on their fiancées’ fingers before being deployed. They’d gone on weekend getaways with their in-laws and already had plans for tech startups or to take over the family business. While Dominic had . . . nothing to give. Just himself.