s**t s**t s**t, this was a proposal. Dom tried cooking without thinking about it, but the more he tried to push the idea from his mind, the more it popped back in. A proposal. s**t. This was supposed to be a joke, but it was too clear to him now that it was nothing like a joke. Sure, he’d been trying to ruin one of Sander’s recipes—only he wasn’t intending to ruin it now, which would make it a nice, above-and-beyond-normal meal. And the goose eggs downstairs, which he’d been able to so easily tell himself were fun ways to get rid of Buddy, now seemed too intimate. He was replacing Kiko’s old pet, and he was doing it with a pair. s**t. f**k.
He hadn’t meant to actually be proposing. He would have picked a different day than Kiko’s most hated holiday of the year. He would have picked a diff
