Page 30 of The Obsession
As soon as the plates are cleared and the guys start chatting over coffee, I push back my chair. I’ve done my part, and the sooner I’m out of here, the better. The last thing I need is another minute around her.
My gaze focuses on the floor again as I make my retreat, but halfway to the door, I hear her voice behind me. “Dominic.”
A low growl bubbles in the back of my throat as I pause, giving myself a second before I turn. Emily stands a few feet away, cradling a brown paper bag in her arms.
“I packed up the leftovers for you,” she says softly. “Figured Peach might like some.”
For a moment, I can’t say a word. She’s looking at me with those blue eyes, all soft and hopeful, like I’m worthcaring about. Or maybe it’s not me at all. Maybe it’s Peach she’s doing this for.
She holds the bag out, and after a brief hesitation, I reach for it. Our fingers brush, and a jolt of electricity shoots up my arm. “Thanks,” I mutter before I abruptly turn and get the fuck out of there.
I kneel by the front door, tugging on Peach’s tiny shoes and making sure they’re snug. She wiggles like a little worm, babbling nonsense and giggling every time I try to do up the straps. My meaty fingers are not built for such fiddly fucking things.
“Sit still, kid,” I mutter.
When her shoes are on, I slide her jacket through each arm, pull it over her shoulders, and zip it up. She leans into me, letting out a happy squeal when the zipper reaches the top.
I ruffle her hair and grin. “Ready to go?” I ask, pushing to my feet and holding out my hand. She grabs it instantly, her tiny fingers curling around one of my own.
We are heading to the park because I’m going stir-crazy cooped up in the house. I need to keep busy. I barely slept last night because I kept reliving yesterday’s lunch date at La Riviera.
I rarely regret my actions, but I feel like a complete arsehole for how I treated Emily. It’s not her fault that I feel this pull towards her and can’t get a handle on my emotions. And it’s certainly not her fault that I can’t seem to let this fixation go.
The air is crisp today. I unstrap Lil’ Peach from thebooster seat and lift her out of the car. The moment her little feet hit the pavement, she reaches for my hand again, tugging me towards the swings.
“Do you want to swing first or go on the slippery dip?” I ask.
She looks up at me and smiles, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, her eyes bright with that sparkle that always gets me. “Swing!” she shouts, dropping my hand and breaking into a run. She’s already halfway there before I can react.
I laugh under my breath and follow. I lift her into the seat, making sure she’s secure before moving behind her and giving her back a gentle push.
She squeals as her legs kick out and she soars forward. I keep the rhythm slow, and she laughs every time she comes back towards me, like the whole world begins and ends right here.
“Higher, D,” she shouts.
I worried about what she’d call me when she was old enough to talk. Since she couldn’t say uncle or Dominic in the beginning, “D-D” was what she went with, and it stuck.
Her laughter pierces the morning quiet as I keep the swing moving back and forth. Every shriek makes my chest tighten a little. I hope her life is always this carefree.
“Higher?” I ask, leaning down close. She nods eagerly. “Hold on tight,” I say, pushing her harder this time.
Her little fingers grip the rope so tight her little knuckles turn white, and I can’t stop smiling.
Eventually, I slow her down and lift her back to the ground. She stumbles a little, then grabs my hand for balance.
Her wobbles only last a few seconds before she lets go of me, screams, “Dip-dip,” and starts running towards the slippery dip.
An hour later, I’ve hit my limit. “You ready to go?” I ask, already predicting the pintsize sass I’m about to get.
“No!” she replies, dashing back towards the swing set.
A smile tugs at my lips as my hands go to my hips. “Okay. I was thinking of going to Maxx & Co for breakfast. If you don’t want pancakes and a chocolate milkshake, we can stay here.”
That makes her little legs instantly pause. She spins around to face me and screams, “Pantake.”
I shake my head and chuckle as I watch her beaming face as she rushes back towards me. The moment she is in reach, I bend down and scoop her into my arms. This kid has an appetite like mine, and I use her love of food to my advantage whenever it’s needed.
Chapter 12
