The boy tilted his head then, studying Celeste the way children did. Before she could react, he reached out his tiny hand, caught a strand of her hair that had fallen loose, and tucked it gently behind her ear.
Celeste froze at the unexpected sweetness. Her lips parted in surprise. Her smile widened, and threatened to tear her lips.
Dominic frowned. His frown was imdiate, subtle but sharp. His eyes narrowed just slightly at the gesture. It wasn’t jealousy, not entirely. It was that unnaable tension, and a flare of possessiveness he didn’t bother masking.
The boy giggled again, oblivious to the storm he’d stirred, and darted off, with his penguin clutched triumphantly to his chest.
Celeste straightened slowly, standing at her full height again. She couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips, wide and unshakable. She watched the boy go.
Dominic’s hand slid up almost at once. His fingers combed through her hair deliberately, as if erasing the touch that had lingered there. His palm cupped the back of her head, guiding her gently but firmly closer into his space.
He pulled her into a gentle tight hug.
The air shifted. She felt it. It was suddenly thick and heavy, charged with sothing unspoken. Her heart thudded against her ribs, and when she tilted her face up to him, the world fell away again.
She studied him for a long mont. She studied the set of his jaw, and the conflict in his gaze.
Before she could stop herself, the words of curiousity slipped out. "Do you want kids?" he didn’t seem like he does, but she prayed he did.
The question hung there, fragile but weighted, and she felt her own pulse quicken at the audacity of asking it.
Dominic didn’t even pause. His reply was imdiate. "No." He replied
The firmness in his tone startled her. He didn’t hesitate, neither did he soften it.
Her brow furrowed, a flicker of hurt crossing her face before she could hide it. Her chest pinched tight.
"I never wanted kids," Dominic continued, his voice steady, and his eyes unreadable. "And I never will."
The bluntness stung more than she expected. He didn’t an it to be harsh. She knew he was just being honest.
Celeste’s lips parted, but she said nothing. A dozen words tangled in her throat, but none of them made it out. She dropped her gaze for a fraction of second, just enough for him to notice the way her expression shifted, the small falter she couldn’t mask.
Dominic’s stare sharpened. He saw it. He saw her heart dip, and instantly, the rigidity in him cracked. He bent to her will.
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, as his voice lowered, trying to coax and apologise to her. "But... if you want them, we can try. Soday." His eyes softened, though his jaw still carried tension. "Just not now. Not yet."
Celeste’s brows drew together. She counted her fingers. "Not yet?" her voice ca out small.
"I don’t want to share you," he admitted, the words hushed, and raw. His gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that burned. "Not now. Not when I finally have you. I can’t divide you with anyone else, not even our own child. You’re mine. I need you... all of you."
The honesty in his voice was unsteady, a rare crack in his armor, and it struck sothing deep in her.
Her throat tightened again, but this ti for a different reason. She swallowed, her heart hamring, and her body torn between warmth and ache.
Dominic’s fingers stayed in her hair, his thumb brushing lightly against her temple, steadying her, grounding her in the way only he could. His other hand still held the stuffed giraffe absurdly, almost comically, but the gravity of his confession eclipsed everything else.
Celeste let out a shaky laugh, trying to soften the heaviness of the mont. "So, you’re saying you don’t want kids... because you’re selfish?"
"Yes." He replied.
Celeste blinked up at him. Her breath caught, torn between exasperation and sothing achingly tender. She should be mad at him, furious even. But instead, her lips trembled with the urge to smile.
Only Dominic could say sothing so brash, so utterly selfish, and make it sound like worship.
She pressed her forehead lightly to his chest, muffling her laugh into the fabric of his shirt. "You’re impossible."
His hand smoothed over her hair, lingering at the back of her neck as if he couldn’t stand the thought of space between them. "You already knew that before you kissed ," he murmured, his tone low, almost teasing, but his chest vibrated with sincerity beneath her cheek.
Celeste tilted her face up again, her gaze locking with his. "Selfish," she whispered, testing the word against him.
"Completely," Dominic answered without missing a beat. His thumb brushed her jaw, steady, and deliberate. "And I don’t care. I’d rather be selfish with you than generous with the rest of the world."
Her chest tightened, the ache swelling into sothing she couldn’t na. The morning replayed itself in flashes behind her eyes. She blushed again. She still haven’t forgotten his bold question fron last night.
"You’ll regret saying that soday," she teased softly, "When I’m old and wrinkly and nagging you to pick up your socks, you’ll regret it."
Dominic’s lips curved. His smile ca out beautiful, the rare kind of smile that softened his face in ways only Nana and Celeste ever got to see. He leaned in until his nose brushed hers. "Even then," he promised, his breath warm against her skin. "Especially then."
Her heart stuttered. She hadn’t been ready for that answer.
The giraffe squeaked awkwardly between them when he shifted, and she let out a startled laugh, breaking the heaviness of the mont. Dominic glanced at the ridiculous toy slung under his arm, and the other one just beside him on the floor, then back at her with an exaggerated look of suffering.
"This thing is going to haunt , isn’t it?" he muttered.
Celeste grinned, swiping the penguin from his arm and hugging it to her chest. "Of course. It’s part of us now. A family heirloom."
His brow lifted, "A giraffe as a family heirloom?"
"Don’t question greatness," she said loftily, snuggling the plush closer.
Dominic shook his head, but his gaze lingered on her. She found herself smiling again.
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