“Huh…” I said thoughtfully as he offered me his hand and we turned down the street. He set a sedate pace that I was easily able to match in my ballet flats.
“Where are we going?”
“Well, I thought we could grab some hot dogs at the park. I know how partial you are to them.”
I narrowed my eyes, making a mental note to kill Morgan later. The only way Dom could have known about my obsession with hot dogs was if Morgan had told him. I focused on looking blasé about it as he wove through pedestrians without bumping into anyone.
“Isn’t that a bit…low brow for you?”
He turned to me, grinning widely. “You forget where I come from.”
“Actually, that’s not true. You just assume that I know things about you because my brother is your friend, but I don’t.”
“Hmm.” He glanced speculatively at me. “That could be true. We don’t really talk much, do we?”
“No, we do not.”
“We should change that.”
I quirked an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “Why?”
“Because if we’re going to get hitched, we should know things about each other. Oh, also, I should tell you that my lawyer would like the write-up from your lawyer ASAP. Do you trust your guy? Does he have your best interests at heart?”
“Oh, so you do wanna go ahead with this thing?”
Dom stopped walking, wrapped his massive hand around my arm, and pulled me to face him. His impossibly blue eyes bored into mine like he was trying to see into my soul. “Yes, I do. Do you?”
I blinked stupidly at him. “Uh, yes?”
If anything, his staring intensified. “You’re not sure?”
“No, I am. I just…”
He nodded as if I had made any sense. “Yeah, shit is about to get real. It’s scary.”
Exactly! Huh, who’d a thunk that he’d get it?
“Yeah, it is,” I said quietly.
“Well, I don’t think we have to worry too much. We have Morgan to pull us away from the abyss if we stare into it for too long.”
My eyebrow went all the way up. “Who knew you had some poetry in you?”
He grinned, pointing dorkily at himself. “I did?”
I bit back a smile, shaking my head, and resumed walking. We entered the park and I chose the pathway that led to my favorite hot dog vendor. I couldn’t help feeling a little excited, just as I did every time. It’s pathetic, I know.
“So why hot dogs?” Dom asked me. “What’s so special about them?”
I colored up just a little.
“Come on,” he coaxed, literally as if he could read my reluctance. “Tell me.”
“I’ll tell you after I’ve had my lunch. A girl is hungry.”
“Well, by all means, let us hurry.” He took my arm, pulling me at a fast clip down the path. I was hard put not to laugh but I managed it. We got to the stand, and Miguel, the hot dog maker, smiled at me.
“Hello, Miss Innes. Same as usual?”
“Yes, please,” I replied all pretty-like. Dom stared at me with raised eyebrows.
“And for your friend?” Miguel asked.
I gestured for Dom to go ahead and make his order.
“Uh, I’ll have what she’s having.”
Miguel smiled wide and nodded. “Ah, young love. It’s the best, isn’t it?”
Dom and I exchanged glances and he smirked at me before turning back to Miguel. “Yes, it is. The absolute best.”
I knew my cheeks were on fire as Miguel handed me my hot dog with all the trimmings and then did the same for Dom. He paid for the meal and we wandered away toward a miraculously empty bench under a tree. We took a seat and I bit contentedly into my hot dog.
We ate mostly in silence, enjoying the meal and the view and the family of ducklings that came swimming towards us. When the meal was finished, Dom crossed his legs and turned to me.
“So, Nicolette Innes, won’t you tell me why you’re obsessed with hot dogs?”
I sighed in resignation. “Fine. But you can’t laugh at me.”
His lips twitched. “Cross my heart and swear to die.”
9
Domenic
This story couldn’t possibly live up to the buildup. The expectations were already too high; what with the protracted secrecy, the blushes, and coy glances…I mean, unless she lost her virginity to a hot dog, I’m seeing disappointment in my future.
“So, go ahead and tell me.” I turned around in the seat to face her, my hand draped along the back of the bench.
She took a deep breath, avoiding my eyes. “Okay, so you know I grew up in Texas, correct?”
“Yeah, Prairie View.”
She nodded. “That’s right. Anyways, my stepfather was an ass and my mother couldn’t stand up to him. Every Saturday, this hot dog truck used to come down our street, ringing its bell and calling for every kid to gather around.” She stopped swallowed, blinking a few times as if to stop herself from crying. I began to feel concerned. “All the kids would run screaming after him as if he was the pied piper or something.
“Well, I never did. I knew there would be no hot dog for me. Hot dogs were for good kids and I was an eternal pain in the ass.” She snorted, flicking her eyes at me as if to make a joke of it all. Except that the pain of those words was still very prominently written in the darkening of her eyes and the paleness of her skin.
I didn’t wanna hear any more of this story.
“So let me guess, when Morgan brought you to New York, the first thing he bought you was a hot dog?”
She made a sound that was supposed to be a laugh except for how wet it was. “No. Morgan was all about discipline and hygiene and nutrients. Do you know what hot dogs are made of?” Her imitation of her brother was perfect; I couldn’t help smiling. “Nah, he fed me my vegetables.”
“Okay, so…?”
