Page 61 of Yearn

Meanwhile, every small sound scraped at Scott’s nerves.

Oliver’s laughter?

Too loud.

J humming while reading?

Too distracting.

He would snap, bite out insults under his breath until they stung.

I would never forget the morning he nearly called J a sissy. His mouth curled, the word poised at the edge, ugly and sharp, and I’d had to step between them before it landed. That was the sort of father Scott had been—the kind that made a kid shrink into themself, the kind that taught children to tiptoe in their own home.

And what had Scott ever surprised me with?

Not a Mother’s Day dinner.

Not a surprise pancake breakfast on a busy Monday.

Scott had only surprised me with affairs. Women who didn’t have stretch marks, who didn’t come with bills and bedtime stories.

That was his version of a gift.

Now, here I was, in a kitchen where Dominic flipped pancakes and set out roses.

Roses.

A man I shouldn’t even want was making mornings easier instead of harder, while the man who’d once vowed to love me had only ever made them heavier.

The guilt and the heat braided tight inside me, twisting my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Oh man. This conversation later is going to be. . .

If this was how I reacted to Dominic at the stove, how the hell was I supposed to survive a private conversation with him later—no kids, no pancakes, just that body and that look?

My heart hammered.

I kept my eyes on the roses in the vase instead of his muscular arms, but even then I could feel him moving behind me, the sound of the spatula scraping the pan, the weight of his stare on my skin.

“Alright J and Oliver. Check.” Dominic turned off the stove, raised his spatula in the air, and stepped back from the stove.

They rushed from their seats, went over to the stove, and giggled.

I smiled. “What’s going on?”

“Quality control,” Dom looked my way and winked. “We’re verifying that Mickey Mouse pancakes are still scientifically proven to cure Mondays.”

“They are,” Oliver chuckled. “Dom made ears. I want one of those.”

J returned to the table. “He warmed the syrup too, Mommy. Just like you do.”

“I’m impressed.”

Dom brought me over a plate of pancakes. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am.”

“Good.” He walked off.