Love Her or Lose Her (Hot & Hammered #2)(84)

“Let’s untangle this. The fear of losing you trumped honesty, in this case. Not an excuse, just a reality. And we’ve both learned that Dominic expresses his love and appreciation through deeds.” He shifted on the couch, moving his raised hands around as if feeling her aura. “Close your eyes. Let’s put you in Dominic’s shoes.” Rosie complied. “Go to the moment your husband realized he could present you with your dream of the restaurant and avoid losing you again in one fell swoop. What do you think he’s feeling?”

“Duty. Love. Some self-doubt,” she whispered. “Mostly, the need to make me happy.”

“You need words, Rosie. We’ve discovered that. Do you think there are words Dominic could have said that would have given you the same feeling as realizing your dream? Having him help you realize that dream?”

“No,” she said quietly, aching to feel her husband’s arms around her. “No, I can understand why he might have made that decision, even if I don’t agree with it.”

Those words settled in the room, but she kept her eyes closed.

“You have the restaurant. What is Dominic’s dream, Rosie?”

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. When was the last time she asked him that question? “Being a provider. He lives to provide.”

“For you.”

“Yes,” she whispered in an uneven tone.

An idea came to her, real and vivid. It was beautiful. So right that her blood started to flow at high speed, nearly propelling her off the couch.

“I have to go make this right,” she said, standing and reaching for her purse. “Thank you, Armie.”

Before she could reach the door, his voice stopped her. “Rosie.”

She glanced back over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“If I may,” he said, smiling. “Remember, Dominic needs deeds. Actions.”

“I understand.” She rushed back into the room to hug the therapist, plans formulating in her head faster than she could catalogue them. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”

Rosie jogged from the therapist’s office with purpose. And love. So much love for her stubborn, old-fashioned, complicated, sexy husband, she worried she wasn’t capable of waiting until tomorrow to pull off her plan.

Yes, she was definitely floating on cloud nine.

Until she realized she wasn’t finished being duped.





Chapter Twenty-Five


Dominic threw a right hook at the punching bag and listened to the satisfying rattle of the chains. A left jab came next, followed by a series of rapid punches. Sweat poured down his forehead and into his eyes, but he continued to punish the bag. Finally, when his arms were spent, he stepped back and doubled over, his sides heaving with exertion.

When he could manage to stand up straight again, he squinted at the clock. Twenty-four hours had officially passed since Rosie had walked away from him in front of their sold house. The more time slipped by, the less likely it was she could get right with his lie of omission. And the rage he’d been directing at the punching bag for the past hour was aimed at himself. There were no excuses to fuck up so spectacularly this time around—he’d learned the tools to communicate with Rosie and he hadn’t used them.

God, there was no worse fate than this. Losing her twice. The Groundhog Day from hell.

The first time Rosie had left him, he’d been devastated. His wife had left him. His pride as a man had been hurt on top of the loss. The loss of the only woman he’d ever love.

It was different this time. It wasn’t just the loss of his wife, this woman he’d sworn to love and cherish all the days of her life. It wasn’t just losing the woman with whom he shared a past. Those things were true as hell. But he’d also lost Rosie, the girl he’d just fallen in love with all over again. They were old love, committed love, and fresh, insatiable love all rolled into one.

And he was fucking aching for her.

He’d gone so long without sharing with Rosie. Talking to her. Listening to her. How had he survived? The sound of her voice fed his soul. He hungered for her nonstop. When she’d suggested therapy, he’d thought there was nothing in the world that could make him love Rosie any more than he already did. Turned out, he’d been wrong. The line that tied them together had been kinked in the middle, and now that their connection was flowing so free and easy, he was gasping for fucking air, trying to suck every nuance of her down.

When she told stories about her parents, her chin went up with pride. Early memories of Dominic and Rosie made her blush and duck her head. An adorable look of concentration came onto her face when they talked about anything restaurant related.

She’d unknotted his headphones this week. Twice. He’d watched her do it from the open door of their bedroom, holding his breath, loving her more with every pinch and pull of her nimble fingers. She’d given him a neck massage after a rough day on the job site—even started the shower for him. All these little things she’d started to do proved the progress had gone both ways. How had he managed to fuck this up?

Dominic reared back with his right fist and buried it in the punching bag. Again and again. This was the only way he could prevent himself from going to see her. Literally draining himself of enough energy to walk.

He would have continued whaling on the bag indefinitely, but he heard an oof—and found Stephen wincing on the other side.