To Love & To Hold

Chapter 13

Both men groaned, but their protests lacked conviction. Ericka knew them too well.

"Fine," Maxwell conceded. "But I'm making popcorn, and I get the recliner."

"Deal," Ericka smiled triumphantly.

As Maxwell cleared the breakfast plates, Dominic helped Ericka to her feet. She swayed slightly, still weaker than she wanted to admit. Without hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms again.

"What are you doing?" she protested, though her arms automatically wound around his neck.

"Taking you to the couch. Doctor's orders." He carried her to the living room, settling her gently onto the sofa and tucking the throw blanket around her legs. "Comfortable?"

"I could get used to this," she admitted, snuggling into the cushions.

"Good. Because I plan on spoiling you for the foreseeable future."

From the kitchen, Maxwell made exaggerated gagging noises. "I changed my mind. Horror movies. At least then I'd have an excuse for feeling nauseous."

Ericka threw a pillow at him, missing by a wide margin. "Shut up and make the popcorn."

While Maxwell rummaged through the cabinets, Dominic settled beside Ericka, pulling her feet into his lap. She wiggled her toes against his thigh, testing this new freedom to touch him without pretence.

"This is weird," she said quietly, so only he could hear.

"Bad weird?"

"No." She smiled softly. "Good weird. I keep waiting for you to remember the contract and jump to the other end of the couch."

Dominic's hand found her ankle, his thumb tracing small circles against her skin. "The contract's in pieces on the coffee table. And even if it wasn't, I'm done running from this."

The microwave hummed to life, filling the apartment with the smell of butter and popcorn. Maxwell emerged a few minutes later with an overflowing bowl and dropped into the recliner with practised ease.

"Alright, what are we watching? And before you say anything, Ericka, if you pick The Notebook again, I'm leaving."

"It's a classic!"

"It's emotional manipulation disguised as romance."

"Says the man who cried at the end."

"I had something in my eye."

Dominic laughed, scrolling through the streaming options. "How about a compromise? 10 Things I Hate About You?"

"Heath Ledger," Ericka sighed dreamily.

"I can live with that," Maxwell agreed, reaching for a handful of popcorn.

As the opening credits rolled, Ericka shifted closer to Dominic, resting her head against his shoulder. His arm came around her automatically, like they'd done this a thousand times before. In a way, they had, but always with careful distance, always with plausible deniability.

Not anymore.

Halfway through the movie, Dominic noticed Ericka's breathing had slowed. He glanced down to find her asleep against his chest, her face relaxed and peaceful. The dark circles under her eyes were still visible, a reminder of how close he'd come to losing her.

Maxwell noticed too. "She always falls asleep during movies," he said quietly, not wanting to wake her. "Used to drive me crazy when we were kids."

"I know." Dominic adjusted the blanket over her shoulders. "She claims she's 'resting her eyes.'"

"And then denies she missed anything." Maxwell shook his head fondly. "Some things never change."

They watched the rest of the movie in companionable silence, the way they had dozens of times before. But something had shifted between them, too. Maxwell kept glancing at the way Dominic held his sister, protective, tender, like she was something precious.

When the credits rolled, Maxwell muted the TV and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"I meant what I said earlier," he said, voice low. "If you hurt her..."

"I know."

"But I also want you to know..." Maxwell paused, choosing his words carefully. "I'm glad it's you. If it had to be anyone, I'm glad it's someone who's already proven he'd do anything for her. Even if it took you three years and a hospital scare to figure your s**t out."

Dominic met his best friend's eyes. "Thanks, Max. That means a lot."

"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head." Maxwell stood, stretching. "I'm going to grab my stuff from the car. You good here?"

"We're good."

Maxwell headed for the door, then paused with his hand on the knob. "Hey, Dom?"

"Yeah?"

"Mom's going to want photos. Of the two of you together. She's been waiting for this moment for three years." He grinned. "Fair warning."

Dominic chuckled. "I think our mothers have enough photos already, given this secret spy network they've apparently been running."

"You have no idea," Maxwell said, shaking his head. "Just wait until Thanksgiving. You'll be sitting at the kids' table with construction paper rings on your fingers while they take engagement photos."

With that ominous prediction, Maxwell slipped out the door, leaving Dominic alone with the sleeping Ericka still curled against his chest. He looked down at her, marvelling at how natural this felt, her weight against him, the subtle vanilla scent of her hair, the small puffs of breath warming his shirt. For three years, he'd limited himself to brief, accidental touches and carefully measured distance. Now he could hold her freely, and the simple joy of it made his chest ache.

Outside, Maxwell stood at his car for a moment, staring up at the apartment windows. A strange mix of emotions swirled within him, relief that his sister and best friend had finally stopped dancing around each other, worry about what would happen if things didn't work out, and an unexpected pang of something like loneliness. He'd always been the third wheel in their trio, but now it was official.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was his mother.

"Well?" she demanded without preamble. "Did they finally figure it out?"