Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Dom, how did you do this to your hand?”
She’s peeled back the towel and is inspecting the cut.
“I wasn’t paying attention.”
She nods and covers it back up. “Stay right here.”
She walks into the bathroom and returns seconds later with the red first aid box in her hands. Her face is pinched up as she wipes the wet paper towel across my hand, cleaning off the blood. I try not to flinch as she works methodically. She’s talking, and I stay silent, enjoying the sound of her voice.
“Dom, you’ve cut yourself pretty deeply. It really needs stitches, but I know you, you’re not going to go and get it looked at, are you?” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. “Of course you’re not. That would mean you need someone, and the Dominic Evans I know doesn’t need anyone.”
The more she talks, the more I realize that she’s not talking about my hand anymore. As she continues to clean my hand and then put a bandage on it, I turn my hand in hers and hold on to her. “I’m sorry, Luciana.”
Finally, her eyes lift to mine, and it’s like a punch in the gut to have her this close again. Before she can stop me, I insist on getting the rest of my apology out. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”
She stares at me, licks her lips, and then answers in a matter-of-fact manner. “It was seventeen years ago.”
“I know, but…”
She shakes her head. “If you wanted to apologize, you’ve had seventeen years to do it. You didn’t have to wait until now when my life is falling apart.” She points at her face. “I’m bruised, have no money. But I don’t need sympathy or your apologies now.”
I just keep fucking up. “It’s not like that and—”
She cuts me off. “Can we just forget it?”
I want to grab on to her and force her to listen to me. I’d give anything for her to forgive me, but that’s completely selfish of me. I don’t deserve her forgiveness. I hold my bandaged hand up to her. “Okay, I’m sorry. Thank you for bandaging my hand. I appreciate it.”
She’s cleaning up the mess, ignoring me again, and I just stand here and watch, waiting patiently for her to continue.
She walks into the bathroom to put the kit up. I hear her wash her hands, and when she comes out, she’s drying them on a paper towel. “So I’ve been thinking…”
Crossing my arms on my chest, I wait for her to go on.
“It may be a little bit before I can pay you—”
In pure frustration, I shake my head and blurt out, “I don’t want your money.”
She holds her hand up. “Like I was saying… I won’t have the money for a little bit, but I don’t like owing you money. So I was thinking that I could make you a website.”
I rear back in surprise. “A website?”
She laughs at me. “Yeah, you know, the thing that will give your business an online presence. You could have people make appointments, check your services, see what wait times are, and more.”
The whole time she’s talking, all I can think about is that if she does this, maybe I’ll get to spend more time with her even though I’m not sure what all this entails. “Look, I don’t expect you to pay me for your car.” She starts to talk, and it’s my turn to stop her. “But… but if you feel like you should pay me back by doing my website, I’m not going to say no.”
Lucy lets out a big breath and looks almost relieved that I agreed. I take a step toward her. “So what do you need from me?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Do you have time to go over things with me tomorrow? I won’t take up a lot of your time, but I do need to get some information from you before I start.”
Is she kidding me right now? I’d give her anything she wants. And hell, spending time with her is a fuckin’ fantasy for me, but I try to act cool about it. “Yeah, sure. Just let me know what time you’ll be here and I’ll have my schedule clear.”
She gestures to me. “Well, you’re the one with the full schedule. What time works best for you?”
I laugh and run my fingers through the scruff of my beard. “What time do you get up?”
Her eyes widen, and I realize I’m sounding too excited. “I mean, anytime in the morning is good.” Hell, even if I was slammed with appointments, I’d make room on my schedule for her.
I point to the ceiling. “My apartment is upstairs, so I’m here anytime.”
She shifts side to side. “I’ll be here at ten in the morning.”
“Okay.”
I watch her, trying to figure out how I can keep her here because I don’t want her to leave. “Are you doing okay? I mean, being back in Whiskey Run, with your mom, and everything?”