Dance With Destiny by Quinn Ward

Author:Quinn Ward [Ward, Quinn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Tony

Because I have the most amazing sister in the entire world, Cara leaves Dom and I alone until six o’clock, when Andrew’s youngest sister arrives. After he told me about Brandon, everything became crystal clear. Without realizing what I was doing, I placed him back in the mind of his eighteen-year-old self when he thought they’d find a way to be together forever.

“Baby, it’s time to get up,” I whisper in his ear. Dominic grumbles as he burrows deeper into my side. I feel bad because he obviously needs his sleep, but he’s the one who wanted everyone to come over. If we knew one another better, I’d know how the best way to wake him without getting my nose broken.

I spend a few more minutes trying to coax Dom out of a deep sleep before giving up. Carefully, I slide my arm out from under him and get out of the bed. He stirs as I’m getting dressed, but quickly curls his hands beneath his cheek. I dig my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and snap a quick picture so I can look back on this moment. After hurting him repeatedly, I know that I’m also the one who brought that content look to his face.

“Welcome to the land of the living.” Andrew pokes me in the ribs, looking over my shoulder to see if Dom’s behind me. “Where’s the other one?” he asks quietly.

“He’s sleeping like a frat boy the morning after a kegger,” I respond, drawing the attention of Mama Rossi and Nona. “Let’s go ahead and eat. He wouldn’t want a good meal going to waste. Then again, if Cara cooked, he may be the lucky one.”

Mama Rossi bats my hand away when I reach for a piece of garlic bread. Other than a few bites of my bagel, I haven’t eaten since sometime yesterday. At this point, I’ll risk a case of food poisoning from my sister’s cooking just to have something in my gut. “You don’t give her enough credit, Tony. She’s spent many weekends at our house, learning how to prepare her husband’s favorite meals. Why don’t you make a plate for Dominic so he can eat when he’s feeling better? What happened to make him decide to stay here for Christmas?”

She turns her attention to Andrew, waiting for him to answer. He stumbles, not knowing how much to share, so I chime in. “He’s been trying to sort through some things. He’ll have to tell you more when he wakes up, but I think he’s going to be just fine.”

Cara smiles at me over the brim of her wine glass. When I shrug, she winks to let me know I handled the situation well. Perhaps I should be upset that she makes me feel like her son rather than her sibling, but I’m quickly realizing that I never spent time learning how to interact with others without all the fake bullshit. In our home, everything’s about being politically correct and proper, but surrounded by Andrew’s family I’m left a bit unsettled.

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