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Chapter Twenty

Dominic

Mer’s body lies on the floor several feet away. She’s thawing, and water pools around her, reminiscent of when The Wicked Witch of the West melted. When I’d offered to kill her for Swayze, I’d already known she was dead. It was my way of telling her I was okay with it. I didn’t care and would accept her regardless. It just so happens she may not need my help in killing, but disposing. I would’ve taught her the proper way of getting rid of a body, like any self-respecting father should, but my imprisonment stole away my ability to do so.

I lift my ex-wife off the floor and throw her over my shoulder like the heaviest and stiffest sack of potatoes I’ve ever carried. Back into the freezer she goes. Now getting the hunk of metal out of here is going to be difficult. I’ll need Swayze’s help because although I bulked up and can probably pick up this smaller freezer by myself, it’s a bit cumbersome, especially with the weight of my ex bitch of a wife.

“Back the truck in. And I’ll need your help getting that shit in the back.”

She gives me a curt nod before running outside to do as I’ve asked .

I cross my arms over my chest, loving the way she does what I tell her without any question. I hope she responds the same way in bed. When she parks, I lift the freezer, the muscles straining in my back.

Her small hands guide the unusual coffin as we step through the tight space of the door. I hate to admit it but my old age is catching up to me. I’m going to feel this tomorrow. Once we get to the truck, I push the fucker in. Sweat trickles down my back and at my temples. When we get back home, I’m taking a long ass shower.

“Now what?” She asks with a cocked brow.

“We take it to a compressor at the dump.”

Her mouth drops in astonishment, which makes me laugh. I’ll never get over surprising her just to see that expression on her pretty face. Fuck all the pain and shit we’ve been through. “From now on, it’s me and you against the world, baby girl.”

***

Once the job of disposing the bitch goes off without a hitch, we’re back on the road. It’s silent for a while as the exhaustion of the night takes over .

“What ever happened to my mom?” Swayze asks, breaking up the silence. I glance at her, picking the skin around her nails. It must’ve taken her a lot of courage to ask me that.

I’ve had years to work out the best way to tell her or when, but the time never seems quite right. And from what I’ve learned there’s never a right time to talk about death, so might as well talk about it now.

“She died at a very young age,” I confess, leaving out the part where she died during childbirth. I don’t want Swayze to blame herself for that. Some things you can’t control.

“Really? What was she like?”

Her wanting to know more about her mom brings a bit of light in a place that’s been dark for so long. I grin at the memory of her. “You’re a spitting image of her. The way your little baby hairs frame your face, the way your gold flecks in your eyes tend to pop in the light. Her skin was a bit darker, but you definitely got most of that from her.”

“I thought I got that from you all this time.”

“Nah,” I deny. “You are her reincarnated. You even act like her too. Headstrong, fierce… de termined. You could never tell her no.” I chuckle. “You know she named you after Patrick Swayze? She loved the movie Dirty Dancing . I fought her on it. I told her she couldn’t name you after a man she thought was hotter than me.”

She snorts at that. “That sounds about right. I think I would’ve loved her.”

“I think you would have, too.” Not wanting to go home yet, I ask her, “What do you say we get breakfast?” Swayze’s eyes light up, and her stomach growls, answering for her. She places her hand on her stomach, giving me a sheepish expression. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The sun is almost done rising, the pinks and blues are fading. Swayze looks beat after a night of clean up. Her baby hairs are sticking up all around her heart shaped face.

“So where’s your favorite place to get a good cup of coffee?” I ask, whipping the truck around the sharp curves in the road.

“Madame Lattes and Bagels,” she moans in the seat beside me.

My cock stiffen at her noises. “If it causes you to make sounds like that then it must be good. ”

She giggles in the seat, sitting up straighter. Once we get to the place, I throw the truck in park, taking in the small shop. I can see why my daughter loves this place. It has a fresh coat of light blue paint on the exterior with white shutters. It gives this place a homey feel. If there’s one thing I know about Swayze, it's that she's always looked for a spot that made her feel safe. Not that her home was safe for her. I’m hoping I can be that safe place for her one day after I’ve proven to her that I won’t fuck this up again.

Swayze’s the first to exit and I follow her into the small space. She orders us two coffees and two pork rolls to eat. I pay the lady and she sets the to-go cups on the counter along with two wrapped breakfast sandwiches.

We slide into it in one of the small booths, Swayze tears into hers like it’s her last meal on earth. With a mouth full, she says, “This is like heaven in your mouth.”

“Hmm, the last time I experienced that you were screaming my name.”

She jabs me in the side with her elbow which is only slightly painful with all the strenuous activities we’ve had tonight. “Shhh, shut your whore mouth.”

“It’s only a whore for you, baby girl.”