![]() ![]() ![]() Rosie’s coconut scent lingered in the air and he sucked in a lungful, issuing a silent plea to his maker that he’d never have to walk into his home again without Rosie’s presence coasting over him and settling his blood. Regret ate at Dominic’s gut as he let himself into the house. He had no regrets over selling the house to give Rosie her restaurant, but he couldn’t help but wish she’d had a chance to see it. What was the point when it had been sold? ![]() Only in the nightmare, he couldn’t find her. He woke up in the dead of night with sweat on his forehead, fresh from a nightmare of Rosie walking out the door again. No matter how many times he convinced himself he’d done the right thing, sleep never came. No matter how many times Dominic told himself she would never find out about the house. Their growing bond was like concrete being poured onto a cracked foundation. The happier Rosie became, the more his nerves seemed to pop and race. He’d never been more content in his life. Last night, Rosie had remained sprawled on his chest for hours while he trailed his fingertips up and down her spine, listening to her reminisce about the past, fill him in on the present, paint a picture of the future. They’d started talking about their days at work, vacation plans, musing about mundane things and having deep conversations late into the night. Except maybe the length of time it took to get them both undressed. ![]() There honestly wasn’t a damn thing to be resentful about. ![]()
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