29.
Tyson And Dominic
Four Months Later
“ARE YOU sure you don’t want to fuck?” Rob asks me from the doorway wearing nothing but a strategically placed towel. His pubes curl against the white cloth, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes.
“I’m sure,” I tell him, turning back to my laptop. “But thanks for the offer. And all the ones that have come before it. Your persistence is alarmingly hysterical.”
He shrugs. “I like to fuck.”
“So I’ve heard,” I say. “Repeatedly. Through the walls. I don’t think I’m really your type, anyway. I’m not a muscle frat jock with a beer in his hand and a confused expression on his face.”
“College is all about experimenting.” He rubs a hand over his chest and tweaks his own nipple. “I like experimenting.”
“Then you should be a scientist,” I say. “I have finals to study for. And a boyfriend who is at least eight times your size.”
Rob sighs as he sits on my bed. Well, Corey’s old bed. The towel parts and a thigh pokes through. As do his balls. God love him for trying. “Dom,” he says. “This truly magnificent specimen of a man who you won’t even let come visit you. What kind of sort of relationship is that?”
“It’s what I need,” I say. Or maybe needed. I think things have changed. I think I’m close to being ready. I don’t know. I need to finish this semester and then sort out what’s next. I’ll go home for Christmas, and we’ll take it from there. I’ve got some ideas, but they’re just that: ideas. It’s a start. “He understands.” The patience of a saint, that one. At least I hope. If not, I’m totally screwed.
“But what about the sex?” he asks me, exasperated.
“It’s not always about sex,” I remind him.
“Well, it should be partly about sex,” he says. “And you haven’t had any since you’ve been here.”
“Does monogamy mean anything to you?” I ask, frowning at the term paper on the screen. I just used the words “shallow and morbidly pedantic” to describe Shakespeare. I don’t think that is going to get me an A. Maybe my bad poetry will. If old Bill could become famous for making people believe two whiny fourteen-year-olds falling in love over three days and then offing themselves is a love story, then I can write more bad poems about Santa/Satan and have them considered classics. It can’t be that hard. I should really look into publishing my works for posterity and the masses to enjoy in the millennia to come. The Tao of Ty.
“It sure does,” Rob says. “Though nothing good. It’s like hearing you have herpes.”
“I don’t think that’s quite right.”
“So… no blow job?”
“No blow job.”
“Jerk me off?”
“Hand cramps.”
“Lie there while I do all the work?”
“Skipped right past enticing and went straight on to creepy. Congrats.”
He sighs again. “You know, it’s never this hard with anyone else. And I mean that in the dirty way too.”
“Gross. Flattering, but gross. Maybe you should stop hanging around people who’re that easy.”
“It’s not about the chase,” he says with a wicked grin. “It’s about the kill.”
“Yuck.”
My computer chimes and then the screen fills with Corey and Sandy, side by side. They look disgustingly pleased with themselves about something. This can’t possibly be good. “Hi, baby doll,” Sandy says warmly.
“Oh good,” Corey says. “Nothing has happened yet.”
I arch an eyebrow. “With Rob?”
“Rob?” He sounds confused. “What about Rob?”
“He’s pretty much naked on my bed asking me to have sex with him.”
Corey pales slightly. “That’s… not the best timing.”
“It never is,” I agree.
“I am so alone!” Rob laments, as if he didn’t just come from washing the smell of the random guy who slinked out of his bedroom earlier this morning.
“Twinkie parade,” Sandy says. “It’s like we’re in a Hostess factory.”
“I’m not a twink,” I say with a scowl.
“Yes, you are,” all three say at once.
“Bastards.”
Rob gets up from my bed and drops his arm around my shoulder. His skin is still wet. Slick. It does absolutely nothing for me. Bless his heart for trying, though.
“It’s snowing outside,” I tell Corey, ignoring Rob. “Let me guess. It’s ninety there.”
“Seventy-six, but that doesn’t matter. Rob should leave.”
“I can handle myself,” I reassure him. “He’s not that big.”
“Well, that doesn’t bruise the ego or anything,” Rob mutters, squeezing my shoulder. It’s a wonder that towel is still hanging on. Gravity must not know how to handle ludicrous attempted seduction.
“This is like watching one of those pay-porn sites,” Sandy says. “Like I could type in what I want you to do and then you’d do it.”
“You can make money off that?” Rob asks, suddenly interested.
“Tens and tens of dollars,” Sandy says. “And all the notoriety you could handle.”
“Or,” Corey says, “you could leave, because you know about that one thing—”
“Whaddya say, Ty?” Rob asks me, near my ear. “Wanna put on a show for them?”
“Your breath still smells like semen,” I tell him. “That can’t be healthy. Brushing your teeth after swallowing is just good hygiene.”
The computer chimes again. I wasn’t expecting anyone else. Weird. I click on the flashing box. Anna and Creed pop up on the screen next to Corey and Sandy.
“Well,” Anna says, cocking her head, “this isn’t what I expected.”
“My eyes!” Creed screams. “They’re filled with naked college boy flesh and I wasn’t prepared! How they burn!” He covers his face with his hands and rocks back and forth.
“I’m doing pay-porn,” Rob tells them. “Type in what you want and I’ll do it.”
Creed starts banging on the keyboard. “I want you to go away!”
“Interesting,” Rob says, “it came through as you want me to drop my towel.”
“No!” everyone shouts.
“Creed,” I say in greeting, “Anna. What’s up?”
“Just calling to say hi,” Anna says.
“Uh, okay. Hi.”
“Link us up with them,” Corey tells me, and now I know something’s up. I connect the calls so everyone can see everyone else.
“What did you do?” I ask Corey.
“I didn’t do anything,” he says. The big fat liar.
I glare at each of them in turn.
“Is he wearing pants yet?” Creed asks, peeking through his fingers.
“No,” Anna tells him. “And I think he’s pierced.”
“Really?” Creed asks. “I almost want to see.”
“I can show you,” Rob offers. “It’s a Prince Albert.”
“This is what my life has come to?” Creed asks. “Asking to see penis on the Internet? My God. How is JJ going to survive knowing his father is a cock hound? I’m going to be just like Bear and Otter.”
My computer beeps again. “Speaking of,” I mutter. “What did you all do?”
They all smile at me. My heart sinks.
Bear and Otter appear on the screen. I sigh and connect them with the rest. “Kid,” Bear says, “I just realized I haven’t seen this… uh. Tyson?”
“Yes, Bear?”
“Why is there a naked man standing next to you?”
“Prince Albert,” Anna says.
“I might be gay now,” Creed sighs.
“Live sex show,” Sandy says.
“Because this is the sort of thing that happens to me,” I tell Bear.
“I wish I could find that hard to believe,” Otter says. “But I’ve lived with you both too long.”
“This is going to be a train wreck,” Corey says. “Rob, if you value your life, you will run away as fast as you can.”
“I’m not scared,” Rob says.
“You will be,” Otter and I say at the same time, trying to sound like Yoda. Instead, we both sound like we’re receiving our first enemas.
“Goddamn Star Wars,” Bear mutters. “Those movies have ruined the both of you.”
“You shut your mouth,” Otter says with a frown.
“As fun as this is,” I tell them all, “and really, so fun, but why are you all bugging me? I have finals to study for.” Not that I need to do much studying. I’m like Stella. I got my groove back. For the most part. And that might be the gayest thing I’ve ever said aside from the time I complimented Dom on his penis. Yikes.
“Just… wanted to see what you’re doing,” Bear says, averting his eyes. “About stuff. And things.”
Otter sighs. “You can never be subtle about surprises, can you?”
“I am the absolute definition of subtle,” Bear says, somehow managing to maintain a straight face even with all the bullshit he just spewed. Subtlety and Bear Thompson do not go together.
“I need to buy you a dictionary for Christmas because I’m not sure you know what that word means.” Otter winks at me.
“Are you mocking me?” Bear asks, sounding appropriately outraged.
“I wouldn’t even dream of it.”
“I’m going to kick you in the—”
“No domestic violence,” I say, interrupting Bear before thirty minutes have passed with him starting to threaten Otter but somehow ending up discussing the merits of grated cheese. You know as well as I do that it wouldn’t be that hard for him to get there. “What surprise is Bear supposed to be hiding?”
“Me,” a voice says from behind me, and I close my eyes. My heart quakes and I have to remember how to breathe. Because I’ve learned again. I really have. It’s taken four months… and maybe I didn’t need to do it. That’s the kicker. Maybe I didn’t need to leave at all. Maybe I could have found a way to stand on my own surrounded by those I love. It would have been possible and it sure as shit would have saved a whole hell of a lot of heartache.
You guys are probably going to be pissed at me, I had told them. Bear and Otter. Dom. The day we got back from the road trip. And you’re probably not going to want this to happen, but I think it has to. You all are everything to me. You always have been. But I need to make sure that I can do this on my own. I need to make sure that—Bear, I know. Just let me finish. Please.
I’m going back to Dartmouth. Alone. I’m going to show you all what I can be. I’m going to show you all what I’m truly capable of. I’m going to make something of myself because I want you all to be proud of me. I know that you already are, but I want to make sure I’m deserving of it. You’ve done so much for me. All of you. It’s time for me to do what I can for you. And that starts with myself.
And so I did. I stepped out of the shadows of myself. Has it been perfect? Of course not. Seeing those you love on a monitor rather than in person sucks. I’d turn to tell Bear something and he wasn’t there. Just empty air, and by the time I did talk to him, days later and pixelated, I was just so relieved to see him that any other thoughts I had would be forgotten.
Bear, I know this is going to be hard for you. It’s going to be hard on me. Out of everyone, it’s been you who has been there for me. Every day. The good ones and the bad ones. And the ones where we didn’t think we were going to make it. But we did. Somehow we did.
Then there’d be some old sci-fi movie on TV as I flipped through the channels and I’d find myself about to call out to Otter, to tell him to come watch it with me so we could make fun of the special effects, the overacting, but each seriously digging the vibe of black-and-white post-Cold War paranoia in the form of giant spiders attacking New York.
Otter, you’ve done more for us than anyone. You protected us. You sheltered us. You held us together when everything else threatened to break us. I don’t know if we would have made it without you. Or, if we had, if we would have ever known happiness like we do now. We are who we are because of you. No amount of thanks could ever show how much that means to me.
Then there was him. Always him. Every little thing I saw or did or heard reminded me of him. It was my first months in New Hampshire all over again, when I was just a Kid harboring a bright and longing crush on a best friend who I knew would never be mine. Four years later, though, he was mine and that crush had long since evolved into something deeper. More mature. More wonderful. Dominic Miller was loved by me in a way that I’d never loved anyone before. But it wasn’t enough. He didn’t deserve just to be loved. He deserved to be cherished. And I wanted to be the one to cherish him.
It hurt. Misguided? Probably. Selfish? Yeah. That too.
Necessary?
I think so.
Dom, I—
Bear. Otter. Can you give us a minute? He did nothing to disguise his anger.
Bear had looked to protest, but Otter led him away.
Dom argued with me then. In a way I’d never seen from him before. Fiercely. Bitterly. He told me I was running away again. That I was running and this time I wouldn’t come back. I probably wouldn’t even look back. I would leave them (him) all behind and I would forget about them (him). I probably never even really needed them (him). I understood his words were born of desperation, that they weren’t what he really thought, but they still hit me like a hammer to the chest. Dominic, my big, solid Dominic, was scared.
As if I could ever truly doubt how he felt about me. As if I could ever think anything but the truth ever again.
Dom, I said. It’s not going to be like that.
It will.
No. Not this time.
How is this any different?
Because I know now.
What?
That this is my home.
It’s always been your home.
Maybe, I said. But you are too.
The anger left him as quickly as it had come. What was left was a defeated resolve.
I can’t do this again, he said finally, and my heart stopped in my chest.
What?
Lose you. Not again. Not ever. It would kill me. His voice broke and I had to stop myself from collapsing. It almost did. I can’t let that happen again. I want you to go. Because it’s for you. It’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. And it’s not fair, I know, but I’m standing in front of you now, telling you that I want you to stay. Because that’s for me. I can’t lose you, Ty. I can’t.
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him briefly. You won’t lose me, I told him. Because I’m not lost. Not anymore.
Then why?
So I can stand by your side.
Ty—
Hush. There’s still time.
And there was, though it went by faster than either of us wanted it to.
I’d wake up and he’d be sleeping at my side.
I’d be reading Brave New World and feel his fingers in my hair.
He laughed, that broken, rusty sound.
His hand in mine, fingers intertwined.
Looming above me as I called out his name, my head rocking back, his lips against my neck.
Holding me when the earth shook beneath me when I woke from a dream where Julie had taken Mrs. Paquinn away from me. I tried to tell him it was real, it was all so real, and the kite flew so high, but I couldn’t get it out past the air lodged in my throat and lungs. He rubbed my back as he whispered in my ear. He said, I’m here, I promise it’ll be okay, and Breathe, Ty. Just breathe. You can do this because it’s who you are. You’re bigger than this. You’re stronger than this.
And I was. For a while. For him.
Dartmouth agreed to take me back. On probation, of course. You’ll have to be exemplary, the guidance counselor warned. One misstep and you’re gone.
There wouldn’t be. Not this time.
The date grew closer.
I’ll come and see you, he argued.
I shook my head. No. I need to do this. Can’t you understand?
He could. I know he could. But he said, No. No, Tyson. I can’t. You’re being ridiculous. I know you think you need to go away, and that’s fine. But to cut everyone off?
I’m not, I told him. We can talk as much as you want. I’m not cutting everyone off. I am asking for a chance to take a step on my own.
And round and round it went.
Until I left.
Those four words. He knew. Somehow, he knew. He always did.
I’ve had good days over the past four months. I’ve had bad days. I had one day, brought on by nothing more than a fleeting memory (a knock on the door and she’s there, saying, Hi, Tyson! Hi, I’m here! I’ve missed you and I’m here!) that caused me to seize up and struggle to breathe. There’s no bathtub in the apartment. It’s why I moved here.
I ended up under the bed that day. It passed, as these things do. Eventually, I could breathe.
Therapy helped. Now that I allowed it to. It’s easy to be told what my issues are. The hard part is finding a way to fix them.
It probably helped that I started to listen. Never underestimate the power of giving a shit. Trust me when I say it works wonders.
There’s no magical cure. There’s no sudden miracle where one day I’ll wake up and everything that’s plagued me will be a thing of the past. It doesn’t work that way. No matter how much I want it to. It just doesn’t happen. That’s life, though.
But there are ways to push through it. There are ways to beat it back.
I’m Tyson Thompson, formerly Tyson McKenna, aka the Kid. And I can beat anything.
But it’s easier when there’s someone like him waiting.
I talked to him almost every day. About nothing. And everything.
We made plans, though I don’t know if we understood we were making them.
At some point, the conversation changed from I to we.
That part never scared me, even when I became aware it was happening.
It’s inevitable, after all.
Kind of like him. Dom’s inevitable.
And it’s inevitable he’d show up here. In this place. This town, this apartment. My room.
He could only stay away for so long. I’m surprised he was able to last four months, to be honest. Tenacious, that one.
“Me,” he says from behind me, and I close my eyes because they burn. I close my eyes because I shake. I close my eyes not because I can’t breathe, but because it’s all I can do to keep from leaping up and jumping in his arms and telling him he can never let me go. That I’ve been gone long enough and he can never let me go.
But, of course, there’s an almost-naked roommate and a computer screen filled with family to contend with first. My life is so fucking weird.
Thank God for that.
“Holy shit,” Rob breathes. “You weren’t kidding about him. Does he have some kind of growth abnormality? Was he hit by gamma radiation? That can’t possibly be healthy.”
“If you want to live,” Corey tells him, “it’s probably a good idea that you run as fast as you can.”
“Ty?” I hear Bear ask worriedly.
I’m okay. I’m okay.
Because I am.
Things change. Goals. Dreams. Everything about who I am.
I’ll still conquer the world. You can bet your ass on that.
But for now, I think it needs to be me and him.
Me and Dom.
I open my eyes.
Everything is so bright. Like stars exploding.
Rob’s babbling about something. I turn my head.
Dom’s watching him with something akin to bemusement. He must feel my gaze on him because he looks over at me. The corner of his mouth curves up slightly. He shrugs just once and leans against the doorway, letting Rob talk himself into a deeper hole. Dom trusts me. He knows nothing happened here. Nor would anything happen.
“… and it’s not like I’m trying to seduce him or anything,” Rob is saying. He sounds hysterical. “I mean, he’s not even my type. What is he, two foot six? I like my guys big. Though not as big as you. How do you even fit through doors? Do you cause children to have nightmares? What was it like living on top of the beanstalk?”
“Rob,” I say.
He looks over at me. His eyes are wide. His towel is somehow still hanging on. “I don’t want to have sex with you!” he shouts.
“My life is so weird,” I mutter.
“How is this weird?” Bear asks. “I thought we were pretty normal.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” Otter tells him. “You’re the most normal thing there is.”
“That’s a big, fat lie,” Creed says.
“It really is,” Anna agrees. “Normal does not begin to describe us.”
“Well, I think this is pretty normal for us,” Corey says.
“Trust me when I say I’ve got you beat,” Sandy sighs. “The majority of you don’t know Paul in person.”
“Paul?” Bear asks. “Who’s that? Is that a friend of yours, Sandy? Do I get to meet him?”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Corey says.
“Why?”
“Because the world isn’t ready for such a cosmic revelation,” Sandy says. “It’s best to just wonder what could have been.”
“And because the monologuing back and forth would kill us all,” Corey says under his breath.
“What?” Bear asks sharply.
“Nothing,” Corey says, smiling wide.
I turn back to Dom. Rob’s gone. I didn’t even hear him go. It’s only Dom and me now. Well, almost. I’ll just ignore the six people on my computer screen behind me for now. I need to get my legs working again.
“You knew,” I say simply.
He nods.
“Aw,” Sandy and Corey sigh.
“How?” I ask, though I already know.
“I know you, Ty,” he says. Of course he does. And of course he knows. I just needed time. But it’s been long enough, I think. It’s time to make plans.
“So sweet,” Anna says with a sniff.
“I’m standing,” I tell him. “Not right this second. But… you know. I think I’m standing.”
Dom smiles. “That’s good.”
“This is so special,” Creed says in a fluttery voice. “Seriously. Is it weird for me to want to scream that you guys should kiss? Goddammit, Anna! Your pregnancy hormones are contagious!”
“What?” Bear asks. “Is that possible?” He sounds slightly panicked. “How in God’s name are we ever going to have a baby when the donor will keep infecting us with hormones?”
“Creed’s just being dramatic,” Otter reassures him. “They’re not contagious.”
“Watch out, Bear,” Creed says. “You’re going to find yourself crying for no reason and things like watching Dominic and Tyson fall for each other right in front of you will make you want to dance and sing and tell the world how much you love it and everyone in it.”
“I can’t dance!”
“Creed, you’re not helping,” Otter sighs.
“But it’s just so easy!”
“I’m going to have to sing?” Bear cries. “Have you heard my singing voice? I sound like a baby seal being clubbed with a bike horn!”
“That’s probably not the best analogy to use in the present company,” Corey says. “Ty’s a hippie, after all.”
The PETA rage descends. “Do you know how many baby seals are murdered each year, just so uppity bitches can wear…”
“And the romance is gone,” Creed says. “This is what I get for giving a shit about stuff like this. It’s all swoony and pretty and then it devolves into clubbing baby seals.”
“It’s still swoony and pretty,” Anna tells him.
“… and they have their seal skin boots, and they should be clubbed themselves…”
“Well, kind of,” she says.
“Tyson,” Otter says.
“What? Those poor defenseless animals who want nothing more than to enjoy a nice swim and a bit of fish!”
“Focus.”
Oh. Right. Dom’s here. I turn back to him. He’s still in the doorway. He’s amused by me, as he always seems to be. My heart skips a couple of beats in my chest. It’s not the same, seeing him on the computer. Hearing his voice on the phone. It’s not the same as having him here. Within reach. If only I could get my legs to work.
“I’m making plans,” I tell him, as if he should know what I’m speaking of.
And yet, somehow, I think he does. “I thought you might.”
“Did you? I just started making them, I think. Maybe just right this second.”
“Good plans?”
“I think so.”
“What are they talking about?” Creed whispers from behind me.
“The language of love,” Sandy sighs.
“Gross,” Bear says. “Sort of.”
I think hard. “But we’ve been doing that this whole time, haven’t we?”
Dom nods. “Yeah.”
“You just waited for me to figure it out myself.”
“I knew you’d get there eventually.”
“How?”
“Because you’re you,” he says. “I just had to wait.”
“I’m sorry,” I say thickly. “That I made you wait again.”
“It doesn’t matter, Ty.”
“This is starting to feel uncomfortably intrusive,” Creed says. “I was just here for the surprise, but now it seems like things are about to get freaky.”
“Time to go,” Anna says.
“Why?” Bear demands. “What do you mean freaky?”
“We’re going to let them go,” Otter says. “To be alone.”
“Alone? Freaky? Wait. Wait. Does that mean they’re going to…. Otter, don’t you touch that computer! Tyson! You better be wearing condoms, you hear me? Wear two of them! It’s safer! It’s—”
By the grace of God, he’s cut off as the call is disconnected.
Dom shuts the door behind him.
“I was coming home,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says. He takes a step toward me.
“I was going to keep my promise.”
“I know.” Another step.
“I found something. With you.”
“Did you?” Another step.
“Yes. I think….”
“What?” One more step. He towers above me. He’s all I can see. “What do you think?”
And for the first time, I say the words I’ve wanted to believe for so long. “I think I’m going to be okay.”
He smiles. “Finally.”
“Maybe not all the way,” I warn him.
“But close enough.” He reaches out and takes my hands in his. Pulls me up. Wraps his arms around me. I breathe him in.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” I say. “Some days might suck.”
“They might,” he agrees.
“And I’m still going to be slightly manic.”
“Probably,” he says. “Slightly.” He moves his hands up and down my back.
“And I come with a whole shitload of issues.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he says, kissing my forehead.
“And I never stop talking.”
“Noted,” he says, lifting my shirt so he can touch bare skin.
“We need to make plans,” I tell him as he kisses my neck.
“We have been,” he says. “And we will.”
“Dom?”
“Ty?”
“We’re inevitable. Aren’t we?”
He stands up tall and cups my face in his hands. His gaze locks onto mine, and I tremble. “Yeah, Ty. We are. We always have been. And we always will be.”
There are other things that need to be said. Other things that need to be worked out. Other worries to focus on. And one very important thing he needs to hear from me. But those can wait. For now.
My shirt is up and over my head, and I’m fumbling with his buttons and zippers and buckles. I graze his flesh with my hands and I think back on what it’s taken for us to get to this point. All that we’ve sacrificed. All that we’ve done wrong. All the hurt and the pain and the sorrow. It’s worth it. I know that now. Life can suck. It can hurt. It has teeth and won’t hesitate to bite you. But if you pick yourself back up every time it knocks you down, it’ll start to hurt less, because you’ll be stronger. Greater. You’ll become who you’re supposed to be. At least, I think that’s how it works. I hope.
But that doesn’t matter now.
All that matters is him and me. Because that’s all there is.
He lifts me up and puts me back down on the bed. He stands over me, just watching.
“What?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “Just you,” he says. “Ty?”
“Mmm?”
“This.”
“This?”
“Us.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s good, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s good.”
“Solid.”
“As a rock.”
“Better.”
“Than what?”
“I thought it could be.”
“Took us a while.”
He chuckles. “You could say that.”
“It won’t be easy.”
“Nothing worth having ever is.”
I smile. “That’s pretty damn cheesy.” I reach for him. He lets me pull him down. “Lucky for you it worked.”
He laughs as he lies atop me, and I can feel it rolling through him as he stretches out and covers me completely. The weight of him is crazy and wonderful, and I can’t catch my breath, but, God, do I breathe as hard as I can.
It’s the breath I take when his nose bumps mine.
It’s the breath I take when his tongue touches mine.
It’s the breath I take when he grunts in my ear and I hear him whisper, “Oh, Ty. Oh. Oh.”
It’s the breath I take when he swallows me down and my hands are in his hair.
It’s the breath I take that allows me to cry out when he pushes into me, and it’s the breath that leaves me when the stars explode all around me.
It’s the breath I take when I release. He follows me soon after.
It’s our breaths that mingle when he kisses me long and deep.
It’s in all these breaths. Him and me. It’s inevitable, of course.
The art of breathing always is.
LATER, AS the sunlight stretches along our bare skin, we begin to speak our plans aloud. They’re almost the same. Funny, that.
He’s drifting off to sleep when I let myself say the words that have been in my heart for as long as I can remember. It’s not as hard as I thought it would be. “I love you,” I say.
Dom smiles.