Page 52 of Loss and Damages

Dominic

Every person down to the woman pushing her cart full of fancy coffee hushes as I step onto the executive floor.

After I left Leo’s office, I spent one last night at his apartment.

I’m not going to sleep there anymore. Leo’s gone, because of the things I’ve done, and now it’s up to me to make amends.

That means facing my father, who’s in my office, staring out the window like he usually does, counting all the buildings we own, counting all the people we own, as if he could count that high.

The paper ran the article, above the fold, the grainy photo of me shaking the mayor’s hand as he grins in relief, and it mocks me from my desk where my father knew I would see it.

“You disappoint me,” he says, speaking to the glass.

It’s a threat, and a promise. I know my father expects certain things when he says certain things. He wants me to fall to my knees and beg for a forgiveness that he won’t give me until I give him what he wants.

“I’ve disappointed myself more. They caught the assholes who set my SUV on fire yesterday.”

I could let myself be bitter my father didn’t ask how I was after the explosion, but he hasn’t asked how my arm is healing, hasn’t asked how I’m coping with Leo’s death.

My father is a callous man, dispersing his love like party favors at special occasions, and I wonder if it’s because my mother never loved him the way she never loved me.

If my mother had felt anything for my father, would he be like this now? Cold? Calculating?

How empty we are when we’re expected to live without love.

My father doesn’t respond, not that I expected him to.

“I went to the precinct and watched a detective question one of them. He confessed to him and his buddy running Leo off the road. They thought it was me.”

My father turns from the window, the sun highlighting half his face.

The glow doesn’t soften his features, only accentuates the lines and the pallor.

A lifetime of using people to earn his billions and still he’s not happy.

He’s not happy with the business he inherited from his own father, nor the luxurious, elegant office building that only hints at our wealth, nor the woman he calls his mistress.

The great Raphael Milano is an empty shell of a man and I never saw it until Jemma left me.

She knew the kind of man I would turn into if I stayed on this path.

She’s never met my father, but she didn’t need to.

“I’m to blame for Leo’s death, and it’s for the best you let Mama go. If you hadn’t, after she finds this out, she would have taken the risk and left anyway.”

“Your mother is a whore. Good riddance.”

“Her not loving you doesn’t make her a whore.

I’m sorry she broke your heart, but love isn’t a guarantee.

She loved another man, you punished her for it, and in return she punished me.

I turned to you and you used me to get what you want.

The pathetic part is, I let you. I’m done doing things your way.

Cut me out of the company, give it all to Jimmy or one of the other cousins.

I have enough money and don’t need more. ”

“I could sue you for every dime you made working for me.” His voice is mild, no heat in it, no intent. He’d never take me to court, but I’d never rub his face in it.

“You can try. Maybe you’d win, but no matter what you think of me, I’m a damned good businessman and I would earn it back.

Leo’s gone because of me, because of the way I did business for you.

That’s going to be on me for the rest of my life.

I didn’t grow up with loving parents. I didn’t grow up with a sibling I was close to.

Mama poisoned our childhoods and we grew up strangers, and even when I was old enough to repair the damage she caused, I never did.

I’d chosen my side of the line, and unfortunately, it was the side you were on. Now I’m on my side, and Jemma’s.”

My father’s eyes flash. “That who—”

“If you call her a whore, I will shut your mouth, and you won’t like how I do it.

Jemma isn’t a whore. She’s going to be my wife and the mother of your grandchildren, grandchildren who will eventually inherit this company.

You’ll treat her with respect, or I’ll tell you what I told Mama before she left.

You’ll never meet her, you’ll never hold your grandchildren.

Think carefully and decide what means more to you. ”

He stares at me, but the hard glint is gone.

“I’m willing to repair our relationship, but it will be on my terms. I’m investing in the homeless shelter.

I’m refurbishing the buildings and apartments on the 1100 block.

I’m building up Oakdale Square, not tearing it down.

If you can’t support me while I do those things, it’s best we go our separate ways, but if you can, if you want to give Jemma and me a place in your life, I’ll introduce you to her.

I love her, and she’s not going away. Be part of our family, or not. I’m beyond caring.”

My father walks to the door and rests his hand on the doorknob. “I’m retiring and leaving St. Charlotte. Do what you want with the company. Run it into the ground. You don’t deserve it after all I’ve done for you.”

Without another word, he steps into the hallway and closes the door.

My father is another loss, but I don’t feel as lost and as lonely as when I heard Leo had died.

No, I think, sitting behind my desk in the building that belongs to me, you don’t deserve me after all I’ve done for you .

When my father says he’s going to do something, he does it with the grand theatrics worthy of a Milano, and it keeps me in the city doing damage control longer than I’d like.

I put out fires for weeks, with the last of it being an announcement in the society pages.

My father and his mistress were last seen off the coast of Florida on his yacht, the Sea Bitch , which he said in an interview many years ago was named after my mother.

On a warm, Friday evening, five weeks after I saw my father for the last time, I drive out to Hollow Lake.

I haven’t heard from Jemma since she left me standing in Leo’s apartment, and I haven’t texted or called her.

I needed to wipe the slate clean of every last thing before I drove to the little town.

This will be my last chance. I know now what she wanted me to know, and I can only pray it will be enough. I waited until I knew her shop was closed for the day, and I park in front of the gallery, the Closed sign visible through the glass.

I brought her a huge bouquet of roses. I haven’t courted her properly, and I’m looking forward to that part of it.

I haven’t met her brother or sister-in-law, or her little niece, and it went against my family traditions to buy a ring without her father’s permission.

Had we dated the way we should have, I would have met her parents already.

It’s another thing I’ll have to add to the list of things I’ve done wrong and hope Jemma can forgive me.

She’s sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, a glass of wine in her hand. Looking off to the side, she doesn’t see me as I come around the gallery and walk into her yard. I watch her dry her tears. She’s crying and it hurts I’m the cause, but her tears give me hope. She’s missed me.

The wine tells me something else—our intimacy last month didn’t result in a baby. I’m relieved, in a way. I want to marry her first, enjoy her, before we start a family, though if she said I’d gotten her pregnant, I would have been happy.

I step forward, and my movement catches her attention.

She sets the wineglass on the little table next to her rocker and her eyes never leave mine as I shuffle through the grass to the porch.

Light pink flowers that match the roses in my hand decorate her cream sundress, and her hair is loose around her shoulders. She’s beautiful, and she’s mine.

Slowly, I walk up the steps, and she licks her lips.

My own tears scratch my throat and the speech I tried to memorize evaporates like a mist in the rising sun.

Pain swamps me, and loss.

Leo, my mother, my father. All I have left is this woman staring at me and the one lesson she wanted me to learn: it costs nothing to be kind, and when you are, the rewards are too rich to count.

To live decently, to think of others. To do the right thing and to help when you’re able.

I have billions of dollars and I can change the lives of so many people, but I didn’t see the value in that, didn’t care about the value in that.

If I had, Leo would still be here, like Jemma who promised me she would wait, and she did.

Love is patient, love is kind, and no one is kinder or more patient than she is.

In front of her rocker, I fall to my knees, and she holds out her arms. The floodgates burst open, and dropping the bouquet of flowers, I press my face to her belly.

She wraps her arms around me, and I cry.

She lets me sob, and the front of her dress is damp when I lift my head. “Thank you for waiting.”

Using the hem of her skirt, she dries my cheeks. “Of course. I love you.”

“Jemma, I haven’t always been a good man.

I’ve done things out of callousness and greed.

I’ve done things with the intent of adding to my bank account and only that.

I’ve hurt people. Because of the way I did business, Leo’s dead.

” Kneeling in front of her, I tell her what William Kidder confessed.

“I’ll understand if you can’t be with me. ”

“What did your father say about your plans for the homeless shelter and the 1100 block?” she asks instead, and I have to bite my tongue to keep my temper in check. My father has nothing to do with this.

“He said he wouldn’t work with me anymore. Signed the company over to me and retired. He and his mistress are boating around the world.”

“And your mother? Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” It’s all I can say. I don’t know where my mother went after she moved her things out of the penthouse. She never reached out to tell me and I never contacted her to ask.

Jemma leans forward and brushes her fingers over my jaw that’s covered in a short beard. I haven’t had the energy to shave. “Then I think you’ve sacrificed enough. I’d rather give than take.”

“What are you saying?” My heart slams against my ribs. Her answer means everything, is worth everything, to me.

“It’s not my place to punish you for Leo’s death.

Those two men wanted to harass you, and Leo got caught up in it.

That’s no one’s fault, Dominic. The court will give them what they deserve,” she says, rubbing my arm where my gunshot wound is still healing.

“The only thing I want to do is love you. Show you, every day, through words, through actions, through loyalty and devotion. If you’ll have me. ”

I hold her hands. They’re warm and dry, steady. She’s been ready for this long before I was. “What if I’m still not the kind of man you need me to be?”

“Then we’ll work on it. Together.”

“You really mean that, don’t you?” My knees hurt, but I don’t mind. I’m too caught up in the promises in Jemma’s brilliant blue eyes to care about anything but sharing the next fifty years with this spectacular woman.

“I really mean it, but there are things we’re going to have to figure out before you ask me to marry you.”

I want to promise her the moon if it means she’d never leave, but I would never beg her to stay.

I’ve learned the only reason someone should be in your life is because they love you and want to be there.

Even if that means they show their true feelings and walk away, like my mother and father did.

It’s better to know and to be alone. But with Jemma in my life, I never will be.

She loves me, and she’s proven it since the day we met.

The small box is in the pocket of my slacks, and I pull it out.

She reaches for it, but I yank it away. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Jemma. I’m willing to compromise.”

“I don’t want to give up my gallery or my workshop. You have to work in the city, but—”

“I don’t want you to give up your gallery and I don’t want you to stop painting. I hate my penthouse and I don’t want to live there anymore. It was never home, not like the one I want to build with you. Will you trust me if I tell you we can make those kinds of decisions later?”

She nods and reaches for the box again. I let her have it, and she flips the lid open revealing a small, square princess-cut diamond sitting on a platinum band. I had to guess her size, but there’s time to have it fitted if need be.

“Dominic, it’s beautiful.”

I pull it out of the velvet slot and hold her hand.

“Jemma, without you, I don’t know where I’d be right now.

When we met, I knew my life wouldn’t be the same.

It scared me as much as it triggered a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever.

Hope. An idea that somehow things could be different.

You made me fight for it, but I’m a better man because of it.

Growing up, I didn’t have good role models, and you’ll have to be patient.

Will you marry me, Jemma, and show me what life should be like? ”

“Yeah, I will.”

I push the ring on her finger, the stone glinting in the evening sun. It’s a tight fit, but that’s apt too. It fits like the grip she has on my heart.

I’ve lost a lot in the weeks since I met Jemma, but as I pick her up and carry her over the threshold on the way to the life we’ll create together, I’ve never been more whole.