Love Her or Lose Her

We haven’t skated in years.” She wobbled and righted herself. “How dare you look so good doing this.”
With a snort, he caught Rosie around the waist and tucked her into his side. “I look good? Honey girl, I was just thanking God I’m the only man here.” He shook his head. “Christ, you’re the most beautiful woman on earth.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, swallowing through a veritable heat flash. “Last time, my father was here watching us, remember?”
“Remember?” he returned drily. “I was innocently trying to keep you upright and he thought I was copping a feel.”
“Innocently.” She raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”
He winked. “Come on, now. I was the perfect gentleman.”
Rosie hummed, letting Dominic turn her in a circle on the ice. “My father called you Octopus Hands for a year.”
Dominic’s head tipped back on a laugh. “He did, didn’t he?”
“Yes. And it was well earned.” They skated in the direction of the water, and the sounds were so soothing. The breeze, blades on ice, her husband’s voice. “He was wary of you right up until the day of the snowstorm.”
He shivered and squeezed her closer. “Don’t remind me.”
She ignored his gruff request. “Sophomore year, wasn’t it? They dismissed school early because of the blizzard and I never made it home. The snow was too thick to see my hand in front of my face. I had to wait it out in the pharmacy, but the power lines were down so I couldn’t call anyone.” Rosie tugged him to a stop at the wall of the rink and cuddled into his warmth. “You searched for me for hours. Almost gave yourself hypothermia.”
“Found you, though, didn’t I?” Dominic said quietly, cradling her cheeks and sinking toward her for a kiss. “I’d still be looking if I hadn’t. I’d look forever. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She slid her hands into his coat and settled them on his stomach, fingertips tucking into his waistband. “You’ll always love and protect me. Through everything, I never lost faith in that. Not for a second.”

“I bet Stephen is beside himself right now,” Kristin breathed, her expression gleeful. “He about died when I told him his dinner was in the microwave. I blew out of the house like a turkey trying to escape Thanksgiving. His face. I’ll never forget it.”
Georgie turned to Kristin. “Why do you like torturing our brother so much?” she asked. “Don’t get me wrong. I know he’s a natural target because everything gets under his skin. But you seem to take particular joy in inflicting misery.”
“If there’s one thing that has been passed down between the women in my family—besides our recipe for sweet potato pie—it’s the knowledge that a man must be kept on his toes at all times. The second he gets comfortable, the magic fades.” She shifted around in her seat with a sniff. “I plan on being chased and placated until I’ve got both feet in the grave.”
“How very uplifting.” Bethany golf-clapped. “I plan to enjoy watching that from the sidelines.”
“Oh no you won’t,” Kristin shot back. “You’ll be getting chased yourself.”
“By who?”
Kristin worked her neck like a strutting pigeon. “You know who.”
“Uh-oh,” Rosie muttered, fishing the bottle of vodka out of the ice and beginning to pour drinks for everyone. “At least let her get a buzz before bringing up Wes.”
“Wes?” Bethany uncrossed her legs and doubled over, laughing loud enough to draw attention from the surrounding patrons. “You can’t be serious. You think Wes is going to chase me? If he tried, I would slap the ego out of him with both hands.”
Georgie raised an eyebrow. “You’ve given this some thought.”
“I’ve given him no thought. None whatsoever.”
“Now, Bethany,” Kristin said slowly. “There were enough sparks shooting between the two of you the other night to start a fire. Don’t piddle on my leg and tell me it’s raining.”
Bethany’s mouth fell open and then snapped shut. “Maybe that kind of antagonism between a man and woman is normal for you, Kristin, seeing as how you terrorize my brother for sport. But it’s not normal. Me and Wes actually dislike each other.”
“Antagonism is fun. Makes him work harder between the sheets.” Kristin ignored the groans from everyone, throwing an elbow at Georgie. “You and Travis had your fair share of spats and it only made him work harder to earn your favor. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Georgie’s drink remained suspended in the air for several beats. “Oh God, she’s right

You’re going into the city, aren’t you?”
Wes nodded about ten times and sighed. “Yeah.”
“Hold on,” Stephen said. “Is this an option? How come no one said going to Manhattan was an option?”
“I can’t just go chasing Georgie into the city and dragging her home,” Travis said, his expression incredulous. “You know how hypocritical that makes me? I partied for years before I found her and settled down. She’s never had a chance to cut loose. Besides.” Travis crossed his arms over his chest. “I trust her. She even gave me the address where they were going. Wrote it with little smiley-face o’s.”
“I trust Rosie, too.” Dominic’s voice emerged in a scrape. “It’s men I don’t trust

Jesus, man. Just order a Coke.”
“A soda won’t erase the memory of my wife in ice-pick heels and a miniskirt trotting off down the driveway.”
“Christ. I knew this was woman-related.” Dominic eased back from the bar. “Look, I’ve got my own problems.”
“Yeah, you do.” Travis leaned an elbow on the bar and faced Dominic. “Again, let me paint the scene for you. I’m standing in my kitchen, minding my own business. Georgie is in the bedroom and I’m getting ready to . . . you know, go see her there—”
Stephen dragged his hands down his face. “That can’t be relevant to the story, you asshole.”
“It is.” Travis seemed to be fighting back a smile. “I was carrying her a glass of wine to the bedroom—our bedroom, Stephen—when she comes out . . .” His skin paled and he seemed to be having a hard time swallowing. “She’s in this dress I’ve never seen. It’s pure white. White.” He got off the stool and turned, looking back at Dominic and Stephen over his shoulder, one hand indicating his ass. “I could see the shadow between her—”
“Enough.” Stephen held out a stern finger. “Don’t say another word.”
“I’ve never seen those shoes, either,” Travis muttered, sitting back down and burying his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Dominic split a look between his friends, a growing sense of doom starting to mount in his chest. “Okay, so both of your women are dressed up. Where are they going?”
“Out,” Travis and Stephen stage-whispered, twin looks of horror on their faces. “Bethany showed up to both of our houses hanging out of the top of a limousine, drinking champagne straight from the bottle

“Shhh, Rosie. We’re going to work this out. You’re my wife and I wouldn’t change that for any damn thing in the world. I’m your man.”

my husband, Dominic. His faith in me . . . well, it’s unending, and I’d like to show him, in a way he’ll understand, 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.”

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.

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

God, there was no worse fate than this. Losing her twice. The Groundhog Day from hell.

The first time Rosie had left him, he’d been devastated. His wife had left him. His pride as a man had been hurt on top of the loss. The loss of the only woman he’d ever love.

It was different this time. It wasn’t just the loss of his wife, this woman he’d sworn to love and cherish all the days of her life. It wasn’t just losing the woman with whom he shared a past. Those things were true as hell. But he’d also lost Rosie, the girl he’d just fallen in love with all over again. They were old love, committed love, and fresh, insatiable love all rolled into one.

And he was fucking aching for her.

He’d gone so long without sharing with Rosie. Talking to her. Listening to her. How had he survived? The sound of her voice fed his soul. He hungered for her nonstop

“You have the restaurant. What is Dominic’s dream, Rosie?”

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. When was the last time she asked him that question? “Being a provider. He lives to provide.”

“For you.”

“Yes,” she whispered in an uneven tone.

An idea came to her, real and vivid. It was beautiful. So right that her blood started to flow at high speed, nearly propelling her off the couch.