Lena's POV
I should've felt relief when Eliana's laughter faded into sleep. Instead, I felt unsettled.
Dominic was still in my kitchen, washing dishes like he belonged there. Like he hadn't shattered me years ago. Like this was normal.
I hated that it looked so normal.
"You don't need to do this here. Don't you have people for that at your place?" I asked, arms folded.
He glanced at me over his shoulder, soap suds clinging to his hands. "I do. But I'm not letting you do all the work. Not tonight. It's the least I could do after dinner."
I scoffed. "Oh, so suddenly you're the helpful and grateful type?"
His jaw tightened, but he rinsed another plate before answering. "I was always that type. You just never let me prove it. We did not have time for that."
That stung. "Don't twist this on me, Dominic. I didn't kick you out of my life—you walked out. You forced me out."
"I told you why," he said, voice low, controlled. Too controlled.
"And I told you it doesn't erase what you did."
The tension in the room snapped taut.
He dried his hands slowly, then turned to face me fully. "You want me to grovel? Fine. I'll grovel. I'll beg. I'll spend the rest of my life proving I'm not that same coward who watched you walk away. But stop pretending you don't feel anything when I'm around, Lena. Stop lying to yourself."
My pulse spiked. "You don't get to tell me what I feel. You don't even have a say in telling me how to feel."
His gaze burned into me. "Then say it. Look me in the eye and tell me I mean absolutely nothing to you."
I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn't come. My throat locked, traitorous silence filling the space between us.
Dominic stepped closer, just enough that the air thickened with his presence. Not touching, but close enough to remind me of the way he used to—
I shoved the memory away, backing up a step. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. You're walking back into our lives, stirring everything up. You think one dinner, one bedtime story, suddenly makes you a father?"
"I don't want to replace what she already has," he said, voice breaking. "I just want to be part of her world. And yours."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
For one insane second, I almost let myself believe him. But belief was dangerous.
The silence after his words was unbearable.
I want to be part of her world. And yours.
I gripped the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles ached. He couldn't say things like that—not with the same intensity that used to unravel me years ago.
"You don't get to say those words," I whispered, forcing my voice steady. "Not after what you did."
Dominic stepped closer, the scent of rain still clinging faintly to him. "Then why are you trembling, Lena?"
"I'm not." My voice cracked.
His eyes dropped to my hands, white-knuckled against the counter. His jaw flexed. "You're terrified of letting yourself admit it. That you still—"
"Don't you dare," I snapped, cutting him off. My heart thundered, betraying me.
He didn't move away. If anything, he leaned closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that my body remembered the nights I'd sworn I'd buried.
"This is exactly what you do," I hissed. "You corner me. You strip away my defences until I'm—"
"Until you're honest," he said.
The nerve. The arrogance. And yet, my chest constricted because a part of me wanted to be honest. To scream at him that I had hated him, loved him, missed him, all in the same breath.
But I couldn't. Not when Eliana's world hung in the balance.
"You left me, you pushed me away," I spat, desperate to regain control. "You don't get to waltz back in here and—what? Attend a few art shows, wash a few dishes, make a birdhouse, and suddenly you're some kind of hero?"
His eyes darkened, the muscle in his jaw ticking. "No. I'm not a hero. But I'm not leaving again. You can scream, you can slam the door in my face, but I'm not walking away this time."
I shook my head, heat flooding my cheeks. "You don't get to decide that. You think continuance erases betrayal? You think showing up now makes up for years of radio silence?"
"No." His voice dropped, low and raw. "But maybe it's a start."
For a moment, the air between us was electric, charged, heavy with something neither of us dared name. His gaze dipped to my lips, and my breath caught in my throat.
God help me—I wanted him to close the distance.
I hated myself for it.
Just when the space between us narrowed to nothing, a sharp crash shattered the moment.
Both our heads whipped toward the sound. The front window of the bookstore—our bookstore—had been hit. Glass rattled, a jagged crack spiderwebbing across the pane.
I gasped. Dominic was already moving, stepping in front of me instinctively, shielding me with his body.
"Stay back," he ordered.
My heart raced, not from him this time, but from the sudden reminder: my world was fragile, precarious. And just like before, danger had a way of finding us.
As I clutched the counter, my eyes darted to the window, dread coiling in my stomach.
Because deep down, I knew.
This wasn't an accident.
And if Dominic's father was still pulling strings from the shadows, then letting Dominic back into our lives might not just break my heart—
It might destroy everything.