“Thanks, babe. Now excuse me while I go chew some tobacco and do some lumbering to restore my masculinity.”
Desperate to make it right for Dom, and for Nora, and even a little bit for myself, I take his hands in mine. “When I was in second grade, all I wanted was to be Luke Kim’s girlfriend.”
Dom’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Okay . . . ?”
“I wrote him a note, but I never gave it to him. I didn’t have the guts.”
I can see Dom is not following me, so I jump from the bed and tell him to wait there. There are no notepads or pens anywhere in the room. This is a place that doesn’t pretend to think you come here to work. I put my slippers on and go down to the lobby and ask for a piece of paper and a pen. Before I leave, I tell the receptionist I need to talk to Dana tomorrow morning.
“She’ll be here around six.”
Not wanting to forget, I pull my phone out of my pocket and set my alarm for five forty-five.
I write the note in the lobby before I go back to the room. When I push the door open, I spot Dom exactly where I left him, looking puzzled. I shove the piece of paper into his hand, then run into the bathroom to hide.
Hi Dom,
It’s Everlynne. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I really like you. I would really like for you to be my boyfriend. I promise to be a good girlfriend and always be nice to you and not bug you about your friends. Please let me know and please do not tell your friends. Thank you.
PS, I’ll share my Fruity Loops with you if you say yes.
Everlynne Lawson
It’s a replica of the note I wrote to Luke, only with Dom’s name. A minute passes. My back is glued against the bathroom door. Anxiety begins trickling in. What if Dom thinks it’s weird, not cute? What if he doesn’t want to be with someone who doesn’t love him back? What if he is so put off by my idea of a perfect night that he is reconsidering our entire relationship?
But then there’s a soft knock on the door. I feel the ricochets of the raps across my back. Dom’s body glides down the door. He is sitting on the other side, both our backs pressed against the wood.
“Fruity Loops, huh?”
I close my eyes and smile, embarrassed. “They’re negotiable, if you are partial to Dunkies.”
“I definitely am,” he responds.
“Then I’ll feed you one perfectly glazed Dunkie every day. To be sent to your doorstep, rain or shine.” I intend to keep this crazy promise somehow. It’s high time I start something and stick to it. And since the gym is not an option . . .
“I have other conditions,” he warns. “Before I accept your offer.”
“Playing hardball,” I note. “Let’s hear it.”
“I’m not down with the whole not-telling-my-friends part. I want to shout it from the rooftops. Would that be okay?”
“Ah, let me see . . .” I pretend to think. I’m glad to hear he sounds like he is chuckling. “Yeah. I guess that works for me.”
“And I have another condition.”
“Ballbuster.”
“Don’t promise to be a perfect girlfriend. Just promise to be yourself. Because I think I caught a glimpse of the real you tonight . . . and I want more of her.”
Hope blossoms in my chest. I feel grateful that I found Dom, that he found me, that he is so patient.
“Deal?” he asks.
“Deal.”
“Should we make it official?” he asks.
“Sure.”
We stand up at the same time, open the door at the same time, and fall into each other’s arms at the same time. It is the first time we’re in sync.
And it feels almost perfect.
It’s dawn. Dom sleeps like the dead, deep in slumber. I watch his chest rise and dip to the rhythm of his breaths. His face is flawless, save for the shadows under his eyes, which tell the tale of too much work and too little sleep.
I go down to the reception area and ask for Dana. I tell her that I would like to purchase the small ship on our nightstand. She tells me that it is not for sale, which I already know. She adds that a local artist commissioned for the inn specially made the ship. “I’m sure the interior designer who worked on the room wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“I’ll pay anything,” I say, and mean it. I care so deeply about Dom, and I want him to know that. It’s also deeper than that—I want to do good by someone. And since I don’t know where to start with my own family, Dom seems like a more reasonable goal to conquer.
Dana says she is sorry, but she can’t help me. I reduce myself to begging. I tell her the story Dom told me. About his brother, and their vacations here, and how this ship means more to him than it does to the next customer who’d see it. How Dom and Seph tried to steal it.