Jeniva's heart hammered against her ribs as she stood just a step away from the door. She caught her reflection in the glass of a framed print, frantically smoothing down her flyaway hairs and dusting off her leggings.
"He's going to think I'm a complete mess," she whispered, her frown deepening. She took a steadying breath and stepped back into the living room.
The moment the door clicked shut, Dominick rose from the sofa. He held out the bouquet, ready to give to Jeniva.
"Here, these are for you," he said softly.
Jeniva looked at the flowers, then at her own hands, which were still gray with dust from the trash bags. "Thank you, they're beautiful... but I can't take them yet. My hands are filthy. I need to wash up first."
Dominick offered a short, understanding hum and pulled the bouquet back, cradling it against his chest. He looked around the small room, his gaze lingering on a stack of books on the coffee table as Jeniva disappeared toward the bathroom.
