When she told stories about her parents, her chin went up with pride. Early memories of Dominic and Rosie made her blush and duck her head. An adorable look of concentration came onto her face when they talked about anything restaurant related.
She’d unknotted his headphones this week. Twice. He’d watched her do it from the open door of their bedroom, holding his breath, loving her more with every pinch and pull of her nimble fingers. She’d given him a neck massage after a rough day on the job site—even started the shower for him. All these little things she’d started to do proved the progress had gone both ways. How had he managed to fuck this up?
Dominic reared back with his right fist and buried it in the punching bag. Again and again. This was the only way he could prevent himself from going to see her. Literally draining himself of enough energy to walk.
He would have continued whaling on the bag indefinitely, but he heard an oof—and found Stephen wincing on the other side.
“I’m fine,” Stephen wheezed. “I should have known better than to walk behind the bag while you were trying to kill it.”
“Time to hit the showers,” said another voice. Travis. “We need you at the job site.”
Dominic’s right eye started to throb. “Said I wasn’t coming in today.”
“Yeah,” Stephen said, tugging up his jeans and sniffing. “I’m pulling rank. Go clean yourself off and let’s head out.”
Dominic did his best to stare a hole into his boss. Why were these assholes getting in the way of his suffering? The sympathy in their expressions only reminded him of Rosie. Everything did. Breathing reminded him of his wife.
“Come on,” Travis said, stepping into Dominic’s line of vision. “If we don’t get this stonework around the fireplace finished today, we can’t put in the fixtures. And if we can’t install the fixtures, we’re looking at . . .”
Travis elbowed Stephen, prompting him to speak. “A two-week delay. Minimum.”
All of this sounded ridiculous to Dominic, but his head was having a hard time making sense of basic math right now, so what did he know? His sense of responsibility poked him in the gut until he had no choice but to gift both of his friends with a curse and stomp toward the locker room. He couldn’t wait until the next time one of them was having trouble with his woman and felt like shit—he was going to find a parade and make him march in it.
The difference was, their woman trouble would be temporary.
It was very likely that his was permanent.
He couldn’t help resenting them for that. Couldn’t help resenting the shower spray, the towel that dried him off, the change of clothes he kept in his locker. They rode in silence, Dominic in the passenger side of Stephen’s minivan, Travis in the backseat—quiet for once. Come to think of it, they weren’t bickering, which was highly unusual.
Dominic frowned when Stephen took a right out of town, instead of going left toward the house they were flipping. “Where are we going?”
Stephen scrubbed at the back of his neck, and, suspiciously, he seemed to be subduing a smile. “Shortcut?”
Dominic turned in the passenger seat and leveled Travis with a look, but he only pointed at his phone and laughed. “Georgie is sending me dog memes again. She thinks I don’t already know she wants a puppy for Christmas.”
Something was up. Dominic faced front again, his muscles tightening up when Stephen took another right toward the water. Dominic knew this route so well, it was programmed into him. Driving there used to give him mixed feelings. Hope that Rosie would drive the same direction home from work someday. Fear that she wouldn’t want to.
“I don’t want to go to the house.”
Stephen reached over and slapped a hand onto his shoulder. “Trust us.”
Beyond throwing himself out of a moving vehicle, he didn’t have much choice. He tried to keep his breathing even as they rounded the final curve and the house overlooking the water came into view. He barely registered the abundance of cars parked on the block because he was too busy remembering what happened the last time he was in that front yard.
He remained stationary as Travis and Stephen climbed out of the van. Might have stayed there all day, if Travis hadn’t physically forced him out onto the driveway. They flanked him, giving him no choice but to walk toward the front door. They’d almost reached the porch when a jacket dropped onto his shoulders. A hat was fitted onto his head next. Dominic looked down, immediately recognizing his marines dress uniform. What the hell?
Stephen pulled open the front door of the house—
And Dominic was greeted by . . . applause?
Honest to God, if he hadn’t seen Bethany and Georgie—not to mention a half-dozen Just Us League members he recognized, and their therapist, who had a shit-eating grin on his face—he might have left. This kind of attention was not his thing. But if those women were inside the house, there was a good chance Rosie was among them. So a sinkhole could have opened up and swallowed the front yard and he still would have followed Stephen and Travis inside without a backward glance.
There had been nothing but bare walls for so long, he wondered if he was in the wrong house. White cloth draped across the ceilings, wrapped in tiny lights. There were flowers everywhere. Music played softly. There was so much to take in, he almost lost his balance, but he continued to search the sea of faces for the only one he needed to see. The only one he needed to see every single day of his life. He couldn’t find her, though.
Before disappointment could take hold, a figure appeared at the end of the hallway that led to the backyard. Backlit by the afternoon sunshine, her figure was shadowed at first, but a few steps forward—and there she was.
Dominic stumbled back and covered his face with a hand.
That was his only defense against Rosie in a wedding dress. The same one she’d worn a decade earlier when they’d married at the courthouse. As soon as she was out of view, he turned greedy for the sight of her. His hand dropped away and he could only stare, could only exist in a dreamlike state, taking in every beautiful detail. Her hair was up and clipped with something shiny; the skin of her face and bare shoulders glowed beneath the strings of lights. In her hand, she held a blue bouquet that, he realized after a quick glance down, matched a boutonniere that had been pinned to his jacket.
And she was smiling at him.
Christ, that was the best part of all.
It even topped the moment his father stepped out of the crowd and guided Rosie toward him, the music beginning to swell. He could barely tear his eyes off her long enough to notice there was a man holding a Bible beside him.
Wedding. This was a wedding.
Dominic wasn’t a man given to tears, but hell if he didn’t have to blink back moisture. What had changed since yesterday? What had he done to deserve this?
He wanted to ask his wife those questions, but when she stopped in front of him, he was only capable of asking her with his eyes.
She handed her bouquet to a nearby Bethany and swiped at the tears in her own eyes. Then she took his hands, squeezing them tight—his chest constricting along with the action.
“Rosie,” he rasped.
“Dominic,” she said, taking a deep breath. “First of all, I’m sorry for doing this to you. I know you don’t do surprises and here I am in a wedding dress.” Laughter rippled through the room. “But you . . .” She stepped closer and lowered her voice for his ears alone. “You love me fiercely and quietly—you always have—and you’ve started loving me out loud these last few weeks. Instead of letting one mistake detract from that, we’re going to trample right over it, okay? I’m going to love you out loud, too. And since you need actions, deeds . . . here I am. I’m marrying you again in front of everyone in this house where we’ll grow old.”
“The house,” he managed, reeling from the affection shining from his wife’s eyes. “We don’t have it anymore.”
“Actually, we do.” She smiled so beautifully, his whole body ached with the need to hold
her and never let go. “There’s one person who has his finger on the pulse of Port Jeff real estate. Stephen. I knew he’d have the details. What neither of us knew is Brick and Morty bought the house, marking the second time it’s been purchased in secret. Stephen claims he was going to flip it, but I think he was just waiting for you to realize you wanted it back. Or . . .” She blushed adorably. “Maybe he was waiting for me to storm into his office and demand the sale be canceled. It could have been that, too.”
He shook his head, panic beginning to take hold. “But the restaurant. You need the capital. You’re not losing it now.”
“I’m not. We’re not losing the restaurant.” She laid his hand against her cheek. “I agreed to sell our other house. To Stephen. He’s going to flip that one instead.”
“Might even come out ahead on that one,” Stephen told the crowd, only to be slapped on the shoulders by both of his sisters and his wife. “I’m just saying, it was good business.”
Rosie laughed while Dominic tried his damndest to absorb the information.
“We don’t love each other the easy way, Dominic, but our hearts are in the right place every single time.” The lights caught the sheen in her eyes. “The words will come from you, the deeds will come from me. I trust that. But what we have between us is impossible to express sometimes. It’s real and it’s big and sometimes the magnitude of it creates flaws. I’m accepting those flaws because they mean I get to love the most wonderful man I know.”
“I love you so much, Rosie,” Dominic said gruffly. “Thank you for loving a flawed man.”
She kissed his palm. “Thank you for loving a flawed woman.”
“Flawed?” He swallowed hard and stepped closer to Rosie. “Agree to disagree.” Forcing himself to stop staring at his bride, Dominic threw a look at the pastor. “Please make this official before she changes her mind.”
Everyone laughed. Then they celebrated.
And that night, Rosie and Dominic camped on the living room floor in sleeping bags, making plans for their future home until the sun came up.
Epilogue
This was really happening.
Rosie stared at the row of order tickets attached to the silver kitchen rack, and both knees turned to goo. It was here. Opening night of Buena Onda was upon her, and according to the number of dinner tickets flapping in the kitchen breeze, the entire population of Port Jefferson had turned out. And they were hungry.
She took a deep breath and ran a finger down the list of entrees scrawled on the far left ticket. Her first-ever order. A Camarones al Ajillo appetizer, one serving of beef empanadas, and two orders of her homemade spinach-and-ricotta cannelloni. Good choices. She was prepared for this. Over the course of the past two weeks, she’d done two soft openings with friends only. And at least quadruple that number with just Dominic. The poor man had consumed enough Argentinian food to feed a small village, but he’d done it with a smile on his face.
Rosie brushed a curl back from her face and nodded at her newly hired sous chef, Marco—a local father of three with a positive disposition—prompting him to begin prepping the dishes. Her hands shook a little now that the moment was there, but she silently reminded herself of the rhythm she’d mastered with Dominic by her side. If she closed her eyes, she could feel him standing behind her, humming into her neck, his hands helping her mold pastry.
God, she loved the man she’d married. Twice.
Every day she swore she’d reached the final fathom of the depth of that love, but it continued to go deeper. And deeper. If it turned out there was no bottom, Rosie was just fine with that. She could go on swimming forever, because he’d be beside her every stroke and kick of the way.
In the weeks since they’d renewed their vows, life had been hectic, to say the least. Opening a restaurant and moving houses was something they’d just about managed, thanks to the love and support from their friends.
The house.
Sometimes she stood in the kitchen and felt as if they’d been living there all along. The walls hugged her close, sighed as they fell asleep, and greeted them like open arms in the mornings. It was heaven. At night, Dominic and Rosie sat wrapped in blankets on the dock and made plans. How they would extend the back patio and build a custom pergola. The parties they would host.
The children that would sleep in the rooms.
Rosie opened her eyes on an exhale and tried to focus on the moment. She already had so much happiness to revel in, but this. This opening night was just for her, the culmination of her dreams, and she needed to give it one hundred percent. Marco slid the prepared dish in front of her, cueing Rosie to take over, but nerves started to build in her throat, leaving her hands feeling like lead—
“Honey girl,” Dominic said in her ear, one large hand coming to rest on her hip, squeezing in a reassuring way. “You have got this.”
“I know,” she whispered, leaning back against his chest. “I think I just have a little stage fright. It was easy when it was just you or Bethany, but . . .”
“Everyone you meet becomes your friend.” He kissed her neck. “It’s only a matter of time before you’re friends with everyone who walks through the door. That’s what is going to make you and this place so special.”
“And you’re okay with that,” she said. Not a question, a statement.
“More than okay.” His lips grazed her temple. “I’m the one that gets your heart.”
Rosie turned her head and they shared a lingering kiss. When she opened her eyes again, he was gone. With a surge of confidence bolstering her, Rosie plucked another order off the rack, smiling over her customers’ choices. This must be Kristin’s table, because she’d made about nine substitutions and asked for dressing on the side of her salad. Good thing Rosie was in an accommodating mood. She might stay there forever, truth be told.
Life was so good.
Dominic had always been the man of her dreams, but he’d learned how to express himself. Rosie had done the same, having learned what made him feel loved. Appreciated. It was as if they’d been living in the same house for five years speaking different dialects—and now? Now they used their love languages to translate affection into something each could understand.
How high could they soar? Not even the sky was a limit.
The night went by so fast, Rosie had an empty ticket rack in the blink of an eye. She peeked out from behind the silver station and her mouth dropped open. Ten o’clock? The bar remained open until midnight, but dinner service was over already. With a sense of disbelief . . . and bone-deep satisfaction, Rosie untied her apron and walked toward the kitchen exit, high-fiving the waiter who came through the double doors counting his tips.
She wasn’t sure what to expect when she walked out of the kitchen, as she’d been completely absorbed in her own world for hours. But she definitely didn’t expect a full dining room of familiar faces—Bethany, Georgie, Travis, Wes, Stephen, Kristin, Dominic’s parents, and Armie—all seemingly waiting for her to join them. Whistles and cheers went up, sending her reeling back a step.
Buena Onda spread out before her like a glittering jewel. Lights were strung from the ceiling; black-and-white scenes from Buenos Aires graced the walls; the floorboards gleamed, reflecting the red candlelight. Her mother’s portrait had been hung in two places. In the main dining room and above the cash register, where Rosie knew her mother would be standing were she alive, probably keeping an eye on the cash. A hiccup of emotion came unbidden to her lips, and she sought out Dominic for support. As she knew he would be, her husband stood at the forefront of the crowd, a look of fierce pride on his face. Rosie pressed a hand to her chest, hoping to keep her heart from bursting free.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” she said, when the cheers quieted down. “You’re all standing inside my dream and it wouldn’t have been possible without all of you.” She wet her lips. “But especially my husband, Dominic. His faith in me . . . well, it’s unending, and I’d like to show him, in a way he’ll underst
and, that he’s always been the most important part of my dream.”
Rosie walked over to the small section she’d had blocked off for opening night, sliding the temporary partition out of the way. Behind it was a small table with a single chair. On the wall, written in gold script, were three words.
Reserved for Dominic
She turned to find him standing beside her, his expression packed so full of heart, it was impossible to look away. Her husband needed actions to feel her love, and she would never stop finding new ways to show him, the same way he did for her with words. They would continue to grow a little more each day until they reached forever. They were best friends, soul mates . . . and perfectly, eternally flawed.
“You shine,” Dominic said gruffly. “So bright.”
Rosie twined their fingers together. “We shine together.”
Port Jefferson isn’t big enough for the both of them, so when Bethany and Wes are forced into close quarters, it can only spell disaster. Or make it a whole lot harder to deny what’s happening between them . . .
Coming Fall 2020!
If you loved Georgie and Travis, don’t miss their story! Fix Her Up is available now.
Acknowledgments
When writing a romantic comedy, definitely pick a failed marriage as your subject matter. It’s such a funny topic. Kidding! I’m not sure what I was thinking when I set out to make this story happen, but I’m so glad I buckled up and went for the ride. Having been married for twelve years myself, I felt like I was working out my own insecurities on the page, alongside Rosie and Dominic, and that made this whole process very cathartic. This story and these characters will always hold a place in my heart.
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