Chapter Seven

Violet

Dominic manged to ruin the evening I'd looked forward to before it even started. By the time we pulled into the curved driveway of his parents’ house, a warm, cream colorered mansion, I was stiff from silence and still nursing the sting of his earlier words. He hadn't apologized and the stubborn set of his jaw assured me he wouldn't.

Inside the glamorous house, the scent of rosemary chicken and fresh-baked bread wrapped around us like a hug the moment the door opened. Valera, all soft curls and soft smiles, pulled me into a tight embrace that I didn’t know I needed.

"Violet, sweetheart," she said, stepping back to cradle my face briefly in her hands. "You’ve even become lovelier since the wedding. Come in. Dinner’s almost ready. It's Dominic's favourite."

She hugged me once more when I presented her with a bottle of wine.

Dom's father, Patrick offered a warm handshake and a gentle smile. Dominic nodded to his father in greeting and kissed his mother’s cheek. I was shocked and admittedly, jealous when he looked at his mother warmly. He never looked at me like that.

Still, it raised the hopes in me, knowing he could feel, at least. Over dinner, his mom floated through the meal like a seasoned hostess, making conversation flow and occasionally patting my hand in a motherly way that made my chest tighten. They were genuinely lovely people. It was easy to see where Dominic got his eyes, and harder to see where he’d learned to shut everything else off.

"You two have settled in nicely, I hope?" Patrick said as we dug into a dinner of Paella, rosemary chicken and croquettes. His question was directed at me.

"Just fine. We're still getting used to each other."

"Don’t mind the stiff one," he said, jerking his head toward Dominic. "He knows you're out of his league."

It made me smile, despite everything. Dominic muttered something under his breath and continued slicing into his chicken.

"Oh, I just can’t wait until this house is full of little feet again," Valera said, her eyes twinkling as she looked between us over her wineglass. "Can’t you imagine it, Patrick? Grandbabies running through the yard? Like when the boys were little."

Beside me , Dominic froze. I didn’t dare look at him. My stomach flipped. A sharp mix of awkwardness and ache twisted through me. I'd always wanted babies and imagining little minis of me and Dom made my heart ache with longing.

He cleared his throat and reached for his water. "We don't want kids." He said stiffly, deciding for the two of us.

"I don't believe that one bit," Valera said. "You used to be excited about having kids when - "

She caught herself mid sentence, but I already knew who she was talking about. An awkward silence sat in the air for a few seconds.

Valera reached across the table and gently touched my wrist. "He doesn't mean it."

I nodded though my throat felt tight.

As dinner progressed, Patrick and Valera announced their plans for their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.

"We're going on a long trip." He looked lovingly at his wife and patted her hand on the table. "I'm taking her to thirty five countries she hasn't been before and for each country, we'll have a vacation there."

Even Dominic smiled and I was spellbound by how good looking he was with a smile on his face. I felt a hollow ache in my heart. I wanted to be the reason he smiled.

"Well, congratulations, mom, dad," he said.

"That's really sweet. Congratulations." I added.

The rest of dinner was tolerable. When the evening was over, we thanked Patrick and Valera for hosting us. The ride back home was just silent. I stared out the window, wondering if Dominic knew how much he was hurting me. I wondered, more painfully, if he even cared.

_______

Dominic

"I'm not sleeping in the guest room tonight. I'm your wife, Dominic. This is where I belong."

She stood at my bedroom doorway in a silk robe, her hair still damp from the shower and her green eyes blazing with fierce determination. I said nothing while I kept unbuttoning my shirt, slowly, needing to keep my hands busy enough if I don't want to do something reckless. Like tear that robe from her body.

I stood, slowly. She walked closer, her damp hair falling over her shoulder, water dripping from her hair down the front of her robe. The greedy fabric absorbed the wetness, drawing my attention to her perky nipples. My arousal came hard and fast. I despised the hold she had over me. It should have been Arla, not her. But I would make sure the price she’d pay for that power was to endure the weight of my hate.

"You don’t get to push me away every time like some obligation you regret signing up for."

"You've always wanted to be my wife. You've had your wish. Can't you just live with that, Violet?" I said cooly.

She laughed bitterly. "You don’t get it, do you?" She stabbed her finger in my direction. "You married me too. For tactical reasons, yes, but that doesn't give you the right to treat me like I’m just a furniture that wandered into your personal space. And what was that you said at your parents'. We don't want kids? I don't remember making that decision with you." Her eyes flared. "I. Want. Children."

At once, the memories of Arla thrashing and screaming to give life to our baby hit me like a whirlwind. She was in pain. Then the doctors were telling me they were sorry. They were pulling a white sheet over my wife. Arla, gone.

"Dom! Dom, are you okay?"

I was leaning against the closet, my sweaty body humming with a fierce charge. Violet laid a palm over my naked chest and I trembled, grief tangled with rising desire. Her green eyes bore into me, searching.

"Breath, breath. You're okay. I'm here."

I allowed myself a few moments to calm down. Violet stayed close, her body warm beside my frigid form. When I straightened, she stepped back, uncertain.

I'd swore I would never go through that again. No child would carry my blood, not when it cost me everything last time.

"Then you better forget about them," I bite out, each word cold and deliberate. "If you want to stay married to me, forget it."

Her face crumbled, and she staggered at the weight of my words, but I remained unfazed. I needed her to hate me if she was going to survive this marriage.

"You don’t mean that," she whispered.

"I mean every damn word," I snap. "You knew what you were getting into."

I reached for my jacket

"You always run," she said, voice cracking. "Every time I reach for you, you just run."

I spin around and snapped. "Because this isn’t love, Violet! Wake up!"

I didn't spare her another glance as I walked out of the room, slamming the door behind me and it’s the only thing louder than the sound of my own heart beating. For someone who was gone or someone who was still here? I had no fucking idea.