Me and You For a Lifetime

NAOMI The first time Dominic Brooks called me beautiful, I nearly threw up. Not because the man wasn't fine Noooooo God had clearly taken his time with that one. I nearly threw up because I was drunk, wearing one shoe and standing in Dominic's living room at two in the morning explaining why I would make an excellent wife. To him. The same man I'd been secretly in love with for five years. That was a story for another day. My best friend was trying to drag me out of bed. "Naomi, get up" "No" "I'm not asking" "And I'm not answering" Camille Brooks stood beside my bed, arms crossed looking ready to call an emergency meeting with my parents. I pulled my duvet over my head. "Whatever you're selling, I don't want it" "It's a party" "Condolences to the people attending" " Dominic will be there" My eyes opened. Damn. Camille went silent. I lowered the duvet slowly and looked at her. She was smiling. Not a normal smile, this was the smile of a woman who had just discovered classified government information and was ready to use it against me. "Don't" I warned "I didn't say anything" "You're thinking loudly" "I'm literally standing here" "And somehow being incredibly annoying" She laughed and dropped onto the edge of my bed “Seven o’clock. Be ready.” I reached for my phone. "I'll think about it" "No you won't. You'll spend the next six hours pretending you don't care, then text me at six forty-five asking what I'm wearing." I looked up. She pointed at me. "Exactly" "Camille, I love you, but sometimes I understand why people become only children." "And sometimes I understand why God gave me an older brother instead of a sister." "Your brother is the reason I need therapy." The words escaped before I could stop them. Silience. Then Camille's smile widened. I closed my eyes. "Forget I said that" "Oh absolutely not" "I was speaking hypothetically" "You said my brother is the reason you need therapy" "Because he has an irritating face" "An irritating face?" "A very irritating face" She nodded slowly as if filing the information away for future use. "Interesting" "Camille" "Very interesting" "Get out of my room." She stood, laughing so hard she nearly tripped over the rug. I threw a pillow at her. She caught it. "Seven o'clock Naomi. And wear something that makes people regret their life choices." "That's actually my usual style." "I know. That's why I love you." She disappeared into the hallway, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And Dominic Brooks. Mainly Dominic Brooks. I stared at the ceiling. Five years. Five whole years of keeping my mouth shut, acting normal, and pretending I hadn't noticed things about that man that no reasonable woman should have memorized. How his voice dropped when he was tired, the way he rubbed his jaw when something irritated him, the fact that he hated overly sweet coffee but would drink it anyway if Camille made it for him, or the way his eyes crinkled ever so slightly when something genuinely amused him. Ridiculous things. Useless things. Things I would never admit out loud because I had enough dignity to know when a situation was hopeless. Dominic was twenty-seven, I was twenty-one. He was successful, ridiculously handsome, and surrounded by women who looked like they belonged on the covers of magazines. I was Camille's best friend. That was it. That was the category he'd placed me in, and I had no intentions of humiliating myself by trying to escape it. My phone buzzed. An order notification. Finally something I could work with. I sat up, opened my business dashboard, instantly forgot about Dominic for approximately forty-seven seconds. Three new orders. Two customer messages. An email from my supplier confirming the shipment I'd been waiting on. Now this was a man worth thinking about. Money. My luxury hair business, Crowned by N,was the one thing in my life that never left me guessing. I built it from the ground, up, from a few bundles, a small online store, and a determination to make something of myself. Now I had loyal customers, a growing online presence, and enough orders to keep me busy most days. It wasn't an empire yet, but it was mine. I intended to make it bigger. I was halfway through answering a customer when another message appeared on my screen. CAMILLE: By the way, Olivia is coming tonight too. My fingers paused. I stared at the message. Then I locked my phone. Then I unlocked it again because apparently I enjoyed causing myself emotional distress. Olivia Banks. Dominic's current almost-girlfriend. Or situationship. Or whatever sophisticated people called it when they were sleeping together, attending the same events, and behaving like a couple without actually being one. I didn't know the details, and I wasn't particularly interested in knowing them. Liar. I knew enough to know that Olivia was beautiful, wealthy, and perfectly comfortable in Dominic's world. She was the sort of woman who could walk into an expensive restaurant and have the manager greeting her before she'd even reached the table. I tossed my phone aside. I wasn't going to spend my Friday thinking about another woman's relationship with a man who hadn't been mine. Absolutely not. I had a business to run, money to make, and a wardrobe full of clothes that deserved to be seen outside my apartment. Besides, Dominic and I had a perfectly good relationship. We teased each other, we argued over stupid things, he called me Carter when he wanted to annoy me and I called him Brooks when I wanted to remind him that he wasn't as intimidating as he thought. He made me laugh. I made him laugh. And that was all it was. It had to be. Because the alternative was admitting that every time he walked into a room, I became painfully aware of my own heartbeat. That I sometimes found myself wondering what it would feel like if he looked at me the way I did him. That on particularly embarrassing nights I imagined a version of our lives where I didn't have to pretend. I hated those nights. They made me feel sixteen. And I had worked too hard to become the woman I was to start acting like a girl waiting for a boy to notice her. At six forty-five, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror in a black dress that hugged my figure where it needed to hug. My hair flowed in soft waves over my shoulders, gold jewelry caught the light at my ears and wrists, and my makeup was simple enough to look effortless, even though it had taken me forty minutes to achieve. I turned sideways. Approved. My phone rang. Camille. "I'm outside," she announced "You're early" "You're welcome" I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. Tonight was going to be fine. I would walk into that party, greet everybody, have a good time, and not do anything embarrassing. I would not stare at Dominic. I would not think about Olivia. And I would absolutely not let five years of unrequited feelings ruin a perfectly good evening. I repeated those promises to myself as I locked my apartment. Then I opened the passenger door of Camille's car. She took one look at me and whistled. "Okay, Naomi. I see you." I settled into the seat, fastened my seat belt. "Obviously." She pulled away from the curb, smiling to herself.