Page 59 of The Obsession
A growl rumbles in the back of my throat as I pull out the sole barstool and try to deposit Peach on the seat, but she fists her little hand in my shirt in protest.
“I made cookies while you were asleep,” Emily says softly to her, and I chuckle when Lil’ Peach lets go of my shirt and reaches towards Emily with a grabby hand.
“May I?” Emily asks, gesturing to my niece.
“Have at it.”
Peach goes to her without hesitation, and I snort when I hear her say, “Tookie, Emmy.”
“How about you eat a sandwich first, then you can have a cookie. Do you like eggs?”
Emily picks up an egg-and-lettuce triangle and offers it to Peach. She takes it from her hand and brings it straight to her mouth. The moment she takes a tiny bite, she says, “Tookie.”
I’m transfixed by the way Emily’s blue eyes sparkle as she presses her lips together to hide her smile.
When her gaze flicks to me, she gestures towards the stack of small plates beside the platter. “Eat,” she says before turning away and carrying Lil’ Peach to the counter where the cookies are cooling.
I pull out the barstool, sit, and grab a plate, piling it high. These tiny triangles will be lucky to count as a mouthful.
Chapter 20
Dominic
“Would you like me to start handing you the slats?” Emily asks, nibbling at her thumbnail as uncertainty flickers across her face.
“Sure.” We’re both in her bedroom, which suddenly feels a hell of a lot smaller. There’s plenty of space for the furniture, but for some reason, the walls feel closer, and I’m hyper-aware of every move she makes.
Lil’ Peach is curled up on my recliner in the main room, watching those stupid animated dogs—Bluey, Bingo, Bandit, and Chilli—on the TV. The fact that I even know their names pisses me off.
I’ve already put the base of Emily’s bed together. I just need to secure the slats that’ll support the mattress.
“Here you go,” she says as she hands me the first piece of wood.
We’ve worked together in near silence up to this point, but it hasn’t been awkward. If anything, it’s almost peaceful. I’m used to doing things alone, so having her here is … unexpectedly nice. She even held the frame for me, unprompted, while I screwed everything into place.
I’m grateful the rest of the furniture came alreadyassembled, because she would’ve seen a whole different side of me if they’d been flatpacks, especially those with pointless diagrams that even a genius couldn’t understand. I’ve lost my cool countless fucking times trying to put that shit together on my own in the past.
When all the slats are screwed into place, I stand and rip the plastic off the new mattress. I don’t need her help lifting it onto the bed; my brute strength is enough.
“Try it out,” I say, and she doesn’t hesitate to fall back onto it.
“Oh, God,” she groans softly, spreading her arms out wide. “It’s like the mattress at Lucia’s. I feel like I’m lying on a puffy cloud.”
It’s only then that I realise my mistake. She’s fully clothed, and although there’s nothing remotely suggestive about the way she’s lying, seeing her stretched out like that has a rush of blood flowing straight to my groin.
I turn sharply and head for the doorway. “I’m going to check if the sheets for your bed are done so I can throw them in the dryer.”
“Dominic,” she says, stopping me just before I step out.
“Yeah,” I reply, keeping my face trained forward.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I’m not sure where I’d be right now if it wasn’t for your kindness.”
I grunt and keep moving, because I’m not sure she’d be so grateful if she knew what I did to her ex.
Emily has been locked away in her room for an hour or so, unpacking and doing whatever chicks do. Lucia ordered the rest of the furniture I need to make this place feel like a proper home. It’s funny how none of that shit ever bothered me before, but now apparently, it does.
Lucia had me take photos of everything so she could getthings to match what I already have or to fit the space. I have no clue what she’s chosen, but I guess I’ll find out when it all arrives.
