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“Read my mind.”
Dom just shrugs a shoulder and keeps arranging blankets. “It was a lucky guess. I’m glad it was right, though. This should be exactly what you want it to be.”
Their eyes meet, and Dominic looks at her with intensity smoldering in his gaze. He’s serious about this, about making this good for her, and Penelope can definitely tell. That’s just like Dom too, putting his whole ass into whatever he does with the single minded drive that got his business off the ground.
“Thank you,” she says softly, obviously touched and pleased by his attention to details. His attention to her.
He just nods and keeps working.
I jump in, gathering pillows and putting them where Penelope tells me to, smiling to myself when I realize the sweatshirt she borrowed from me is tucked in her bed with the rest of her soft nesting things. There’s a flare of possessiveness and the preening feeling that comes along with providing something for someone. It’s stronger than when I do something for my family, more instinctual than anything I’ve ever felt.
“Do you mind?” Penelope asks, her voice soft as she realizes what I’ve seen.
I shake my head, grinning at her. “Shortcake, as far as I’m concerned you can keep that and do whatever you want with it. Although I’d be happy if you wore it again.”
“It smells like you,” she murmurs, cheeks flooding with pink.
“Good,” is all I say back to that.
Dominic steps back and takes a look at what we’ve put together. “I’m not an expert, but this looks pretty good.”
Penelope smiles at him, coming to stand at his side. “It does. There’s just one thing missing, but I don’t really know what to do about it.”
Both of us turn to look at her, head snapping around at the same time. “What’s missing?” I ask.
Her cheeks flush even darker. “I had this blanket for a while that was my favorite thing in the world. It was… sherpa lined, I think? But not that really fancy stuff that they were selling at the shops today. It was fuzzy and warm and soft, and I always had it on the couch to drape over myself when I was watching TV or just lounging on the couch. It got worn out from being washed so much, and I haven’t been able to find anything that’s a good enough replacement for it. None of them feel the same. I think if I had a blanket like that, it would make this whole thing perfect.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for something like that,” I tell her, then I look to Dom. “It’s your turn to handle dinner.”
He makes a face and pulls out his phone to order take out. “Sushi?”
“Thai?” Penelope counters. “I want noodles.”
“Done.”
We leave Penelope’s room, and Dominic heads down the stairs to place an order.
Tristan has disappeared into his own room, but the door is open and I can practically feel the waves of agitation rolling off him. I walk by the door and see him sitting on his bed, hands clenched into fists, jaw tight. His eyes are guarded, but I don’thave to be able to read what’s in them to know he’s battling with himself.
“How long are you going to keep this up?” I ask him, folding my arms and leaning in his doorway.
“What?” he grits out.
“This. Holding yourself back. Waging war with your instincts.”
He just gives me a flat look, but it says everything it needs to.
“You want to help her. You want to be in there with me and Dom, putting her nest together, making her smile. No one’s stopping you from doing that, Tristan.”
His jaw just tightens even more and he shakes his head. “It’s not that simple.”
I smile at him. “That’s the beauty if it though. Itisthat simple. You can help her, you can get close to her. You can tell she wants you to, even. All you have to do is take the leap to do it.”
“And then she leaves, Xavier. Then this farce of a marriage is over, and she goes back to her life, and then what?”
There’s a raw quality to his voice, letting emotion slip through for the first time in a while, and it’s not lost on me. Hearing him ask that makes my own chest tighten because I don’t like the thought of her not being here.
I don’t want to think about the future, and I’ve been trying to keep myself from dwelling on it because I can admit that I’m getting attached to her. How could I not be when she’s so… her?