I’d once thought telling the truth would be the hardest part—letting people know about Dom and me, about how I used to date his son. In my imagination, the moment we “came out” would be the peak of our anxiety.
But real life had an annoying habit of proving me wrong. Turns out, the telling was easy compared to everyone else’s reactions. I felt that weight of disapproval constantly now, as if the whole city had discovered our secret and decided to whisper about it behind our backs.
Even if that wasn’t entirely accurate, it was how my nerves interpreted everything. It seemed like every time I glanced around, I caught someone exchanging glances or cutting off a sentence mid-conversation when I walked by. I felt like high school, except now, they had a reason to gossip about me. Maybe I was just paranoid. But I couldn’t shake the queasy sense that everything I did was under scrutiny.
At the heart of it, though, my biggest worry was Leo. I had no direct knowledge of how he was handling any of this—Dom refused to spill details about their blowout, but the few things he let slip told me it wasn’t good. Leo had stormed out, shut Dom down, and apparently avoided even his sister, Gina.
It was easy to figure out that my involvement made it worse. It’d be one thing if Dom had gone through the steps of accidentally starting a new family with someone else. I was sure that would upset Leo and Gina enough on its own. But adding me into the mix was pouring bleach into the wound. I could almost feel Leo’s anger on the horizon, pressing in, even though we hadn’t spoken in over a year.
If that wasn’t enough to gnaw at my conscience, there was also Gina to consider. I’d never met her—only heard Dom talk about how brilliant she was, how proud he was of her interior design success. Part of me yearned to meet her, to prove I wasn’t some manipulative vixen who hopped from son to father.
But another part was terrified she’d despise me on principle. She and Leo were siblings. Of course, she’d take her brother’s side, right? In her place, I probably would. The thought haunted me, leaving a sour pit in my stomach.
I tried to bury the anxiety by focusing on work at Suivante, but that brought its own brand of misery. Carrie, once my steadfast boss and friend, had become increasingly chummy with Winner, the “temp” who acted more permanent by the day.
I’d look up from my station to see Carrie and Winner laughing over some new labeling system, or reorganizing a shelf side by side, or discussing menu ideas with enthusiastic nods. Meanwhile, I’d stand off to the side, feeling like an outsider in the very kitchen I used to run.
I couldn’t shake the sense that Carrie looked at me differently now—like she was reevaluating my reliability. Sure, she’d forgiven me for lying about Dom at first, but I sensed a hint of reservation in her eyes whenever we talked. Maybe it was my imagination, or maybe it was real. Either way, her newfound closeness with Winner stung.
“Carrie’s only worried about Seth stirring up trouble,” I told myself, stepping outside for a breather one afternoon. She’d mentioned how Dom’s fatherhood might become a weapon in Seth’s rivalry. The board might see Dom as too distracted.
At home, things weren’t much better. The nanny, Amanda, was an angel with the babies—truly. She had them cooing and giggling like they never did for me. On one hand, I was grateful. On the other hand, it cut me deeply. Whenever I came in from work, she’d have them fed, changed, and happy, and I’d stand there with a forced smile, feeling a hollow pang in my chest.
Aren’t I supposed to be the one who soothes them?
But they spent so many hours with her that they’d naturally bonded. It was petty of me to be upset about that. I should have been grateful they were happy and flourishing under her care. But it still hurt.
I’d tried to reassure myself that I was doing the best I could—working to support the twins, and caring for them in the off-hours. But the guilt never left. I’d be at Suivante, mindlessly chopping vegetables, and my mind would drift to the twins.
They must be giggling with Amanda right now. Do they think she’s their Mom?
It was a lose-lose scenario. Stay home full-time, and I’d lose my career, not to mention the financial independence I clung to. I saw the parallels to Dom’s old struggle, the one that ended with Jodie’s illness going unnoticed. Dom had thrown himself into work, and tragedy struck. I didn’t want that for our daughters. Yet, ironically, it felt like I was following the same path.
It seemed like all I ever did these days was worry. The good news was I was a hell of a multi-tasker. Stirring a demiglace? I could worry while I stirred. Changing a diaper? Worrying didn’t interfere with that, either. Texting Dom? Worrying was a part of every letter, every emoji. As I rocked Marissa in the nursery, my heart aching at how seldom I got to do this, I couldn’t shake the question, am I making Dom’s life harder?
He was up to his neck in hospital drama, adult children issues, a brand-new fatherhood he never expected, and here I was, piling on my insecurities and the weight of my career. Staring at the pastel walls, I murmured to Marissa, “He must be exhausted.”
Her cooing response was an agreement. I was sure of that.
Leo’s meltdown or not, Dom was dealing with a lot. And I worried that if I wasn’t strong enough—if I kept pulling him in different directions—maybe I’d become another Jodie in his eyes. Someone he didn’t have time to see crumbling.
That thought cut so deeply I almost dropped Marissa. “Shh,” I whispered, pressing a shaky kiss to her soft head. “Mommy’s okay.” A lie if ever I told one.
Days turned into a blur of half-smiles at work and forced cheer at home. Dom would text me short updates—fewer than before, but occasionally sweet.
Missing you. Everything’s chaos. I’ll call tonight.
And sometimes he didn’t call, leaving me feeling like a rug had been yanked from under my feet. When we did manage a phone conversation, it was quick, overshadowed by beeping hospital machines or me checking on the twins in the background. We rarely addressed the big stuff. There was no time.
One afternoon, Carrie pulled me aside in the kitchen, Winner trailing behind her. “Hey, Ella,” she said, trying for a casual tone that didn’t fool me. “I understand things are tense for Dom at the hospital.”
My stomach sank. “Right,” I managed, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my forearm. “But he’s handling it.”
Carrie nodded, expression concerned. “He’ll try, but you know Seth. He’s ruthless.”
A flush of anger prickled my skin, but behind it was guilt. “I appreciate the warning. But I’m sure Dom can handle Seth.”
Winner, standing a step back, gave me a tight smile. “Things are intense, huh?”
She was the last person on earth I wanted to hear from on the matter. I faked a shrug. “Yeah, well, that’s their world, not mine.” But the anxiety clung like a burr.
What if Dom is losing ground at the hospital because of me?
After Carrie and Winner moved on, I stood there, an onion half-chopped, tears stinging my eyes not from the onion but from the hopelessness growing in my chest. If Dom’s career suffered because we had twins and complicated baggage, that was beyond my control.
Which was not a comforting thought. It was one more thing I couldn’t fix.
By the time I got home that night, I felt drained, physically and emotionally. Amanda was singing a lullaby to Summer, who cooed in delight, and I forced a smile. I tried not to begrudge how well the nanny did her job. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” Amanda said, noticing my strained tone. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied, swallowing the dryness in my throat. “Just a rough day.”
When she left, I slumped onto the couch, rubbing my temples. Dom’s last text had been two words. Sleep well.
How the hell did he expect me to do that?
No mention of visiting, no phone call. The lonely hush of the apartment pressed in. If I left my job, would that solve anything? Then I’d rely on Dom’s money—something that made me cringe. If I stayed, the twins grew closer to Amanda by the day. If Dom’s job fell apart, that was on me, right?
Every angle of this, I was at fault. And I didn’t know how to fix any of it.
Eventually, I padded to the nursery, watching the twins drift in and out of sleep. My heart ached, swirling with guilt and longing. Dom’s old struggle, repeated. Leo never forgave him for Jodie’s death. Now, I was the one with precious little time with my children.
I won’t let that happen to us, I thought fiercely, brushing a gentle hand over Marissa’s soft hair. But how do I avoid it, exactly?
I imagined Dom wrestling himself free from the hospital to rush to my side, only to find me a stressed-out wreck. Or me giving up my career, becoming a resentful shell of myself who might blame him for that choice.
Lose-lose. The realization broke something inside me, tears I’d been holding back all day slipping down my cheeks.
I crouched by the crib, head leaning on the railing, letting quiet sobs rack me. I’m sorry, I told them silently. Mommy doesn’t know how to fix this.
If Dom had soared too high with his ambition, I was being ground between the pillars of motherly duty and my job’s demands. Neither path let me breathe.
After a few minutes, I forced myself upright, wiping my face with the edge of my shirt. The twins needed a mom, not a crying mess. “It’s okay,” I whispered to them, though I didn’t believe it. “We’ll figure this out.”
But as I slipped into bed later, the apartment dark, my phone silent, all I could think was how I might be burdening Dom more than benefitting him. He had enough on his plate. Would he have been better off if I’d never walked into his life?
That thought hurt worse than I expected. But maybe…I’m making everything worse.
I stared at the ceiling, listening to the soft breathing of two little lives in the other room on the monitor. I loved them more than I ever thought possible. I loved Dom, too, in a way that scared me with its intensity. But love didn’t erase reality—it didn’t stop the world from being cruel. My phone stayed dark, the weight in my chest heavier than ever.
So I closed my eyes, tears slipping out anyway, and tried to imagine a future where we all found a balance. Maybe I’ll just hang on until Dom finds a solution. Maybe if we hold each other tight enough, the storm will pass.
But storms don’t pass just because we want them to. Sometimes, they break us.
For now, I had no plan. No bright fix. Just raw worry that everything was unraveling at once. My job, my babies, Dom’s career, and Dom’s relationship with his other kids felt precarious. And I was at the center of that storm, tugging him in different directions.
I didn’t know if I could keep it up. But I also couldn’t bring myself to let go. And I had more questions than answers.
How do I protect the man I love from the chaos I’ve brought into his life, when I can barely protect myself?
