Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
ANNA
It foolishly only occurred to me that it might be dangerous to have my picture plastered everywhere right as we approached the venue. I hadn't realized there'd be paparazzi here.
I mean yes, I was careful to make a rule where everyone inside has to put their cameras in a locked bag for the night so there won't be any photography, but that's only so that everyone, councilmen and celebrities alike, will feel at ease without worrying about ending up going viral online tomorrow for some embarrassing gaffe or other.
But was it also subconsciously because I knew it wasn't safe for anyone to be taking my picture, too?
Fuck, is that why Mads has been so grouchy about me putting on this gala? Then why didn't she just come out and say so in our journal?
There's no time to noodle on it, though, because the limo has pulled around back and I'm stepping out into the cool December air and being hustled through the back by our catering director so I can meet up with Jennifer, Domhnall's chief operating officer, inside the grand ballroom.
"Wow," is all I can say, looking around. "It's more beautiful than I imagined."
Inside, the ballroom has been transformed into a winter wonderland.
Enormous Christmas trees draped in silver and blue decorations tower in the corners.
Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over everything.
Ice sculptures glitter at the center of each table.
A string quartet plays softly in the background.
"Anna! Domhnall!" Jessica embraces me warmly right as I glance over my shoulder to see Domhnall stepping up and sliding his hand to the small of my back. "Everything looks magnificent. The committee really outdid itself this year. Thanks in no small part to you, Anna."
He shakes hands with Jessica's husband as she and I fall into conversation about decorations and the menu. Around us, board members, executives, clients, and donors all mingle with champagne flutes in hand.
For the next hour, Domhn and I make the rounds.
I'm a little surprised by how at ease I feel chatting with the board members and donors.
Domhnall's hand remains a steady presence at the small of my back, occasionally giving me a reassuring squeeze when I start talking too fast about my passion for the children's literacy foundation we're raising money for tonight.
"You're a natural at this," he whispers in my ear when we have a brief moment alone by the champagne fountain.
I laugh, shaking my head. "I'm terrified. These people have more money than I can even comprehend."
"And they all adore you," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You've charmed them completely."
I take a sip of champagne, feeling the bubbles dance on my tongue.
The string quartet transitions to "Carol of the Bells," and I can't help but sway slightly to the music.
The ballroom looks absolutely magical—icicle lights drip from the ceiling, and the light reflecting off the ice sculptures casts dancing patterns across the walls. It's everything I imagined and more.
Christmas was always something I dreamed about from afar. Certainly, holidays growing up in my cold, violent household were nothing to celebrate. They were just like every other day. But I'd seen about Christmas on TV and in movies, and I dreamed about nights like these...
"Mrs. Harrison wants to double her donation," Domhnall says, nodding toward an elderly woman across the room who's wearing enough diamonds to fund a small country. "She said your enthusiasm for the reading program was infectious."
"Really?" I feel a blush warm my cheeks. "I thought I was rambling."
"You were passionate. There's a difference."
I catch his gaze, seeing pride there. It makes my chest swell with emotion.
For so long, I've felt like a burden to him—damaged, complicated, too much work.
But tonight, standing beside him as an equal partner, helping his company with their charitable efforts, I feel. .. whole. Useful. Happy. Beautiful.
"Should we dance?" I ask suddenly, happiness overflowing.
His smile broadens. "I thought you'd never ask."
He leads me to the dance floor, where several couples are already swaying to the music. His hand finds my waist, holding me with a perfect balance of firmness and gentleness. I place my hand on his shoulder, feeling the expensive fabric of his suit beneath my fingers.
"You never texted," he says quietly as we begin to move.
I blink. "Texted?"
"After you went in the back entrance. I asked if you got inside safely."
"Oh!" I feel a flutter of panic. "I'm so sorry. I completely forgot."
He studies my face, and I can almost see him working to determine if I'm telling the truth or if there was another reason I didn't respond.
Does he think I'm keeping secrets? Oh, or is he checking to see if I'm still.
.. me? I hate that he has to do this constant mental calculation, always wondering which version of me he's with. It's exhausting for both of us.
"It's alright," he says finally, his expression softening. "You're here now. That's what matters."
I lean into him, resting my cheek against his chest as we sway to the music. I can hear his heartbeat through his shirt, strong and steady. Like him.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"For what?"
"For loving all of me. Even the parts that make it complicated."
His arms tighten around me, and he presses a kiss to the top of my head. "It's not a choice, love. It never was."
We dance in silence for a while, letting the music wash over us. For this moment, at least, everything feels perfect. There's no shadows, no complications, just Domhnall and me in a room full of twinkling lights and Christmas music.
"I spoke with Dr. Ezra this morning," I say suddenly, the words tumbling out before I can reconsider.
Domhnall's steps don't falter, but I feel a slight tension in his shoulders. "Oh? How did that go?"
I take a deep breath. "He thinks we're making progress. The journal is helping." I hesitate, then decide to push forward. "He suggested I try some new techniques for staying... present. Even when I feel myself starting to slip away."
"That sounds promising," he says carefully.
"It is." I pull back slightly to look at him. "I want this to work, Domhn. I want to be whole for you, not fractured into pieces you have to navigate."
His expression softens, and he brushes a strand of hair from my face. "Anna, I love you exactly as you are. All of you."
"I know. But I want to be better. For both of us."
The music shifts to something faster, and other couples around us adjust their steps. We follow suit, but our conversation has created an intimate bubble around us that the change in tempo can't penetrate.
"Dr. Ezra also suggested..." I trail off, suddenly uncertain.
"What is it, love?"
I swallow, gathering my courage. "He suggested we might want to set a wedding date. That having something concrete to look forward to might help ground me."
Domhnall's eyes widen slightly, but then a slow smile spreads across his face. "I've been ready to marry you since the day you came back to me."
Relief washes over me. "Really? You wouldn't mind if we started planning?"
"Mind?" He laughs, the sound rich and warm. "I'd marry you tomorrow if you'd let me."
"Maybe not tomorrow," I grin. "But soon. Summer, maybe? At the end of May, before it starts to get too hot?"
His eyes shine in the dim light. "May sounds perfect."
The song ends, and he bends down to brush his lips against mine—at first just a brief, chaste kiss that still manages to make my heart race.
I deepen it, fingers gripping the shoulders of his tux. My stomach swoops, and I feel such longing. We've tried experimenting a couple more times like we did in the library, with the same result.
I pull back, not willing to risk a switch on a night like tonight.
Only to blink up into Domhn's eyes and find his expression is so full of love that it makes my breath catch.
"You've made me the happiest man alive," he murmurs.
Before I can respond, Jessica appears at my elbow, apologetic but insistent. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but the mayor just arrived and would love to meet you, Anna. He was very impressed with the literacy program proposal."
I look at Domhnall, who nods encouragingly. "Go ahead. I'll find you in a bit. I should check in with some of the board members anyway."
I squeeze his hand before following Jessica across the room. The mayor is a tall, distinguished man with silver hair and a booming laugh. He greets me warmly, immediately launching into praise for the gala and the charitable initiative.
As I talk with him about the program, explaining how it will provide books and reading resources to underprivileged children throughout Dallas, I catch glimpses of Domhnall across the room.
He moves with easy confidence among the corporate elite, his shoulders straight, his expression attentive.
Occasionally, his eyes find mine, and he offers a small smile that makes my stomach flutter.
It's strange to think about how far we've come. From broken, traumatized teenagers to this—standing in a glittering ballroom, building a life together despite everything that tried to tear us apart.
"You've done a remarkable job," the mayor is saying, bringing my attention back to our conversation. "The city would be interested in potentially partnering with your foundation for a summer reading initiative as well."
"That would be wonderful," I respond, already mentally calculating how many more children we could reach with city support.
I'm still glowing when I stop by the restroom, texting Domhn this time about where I am, chuckling to myself at his constant vigilance over me.
I settle inside a stall and start my business, only to look down and notice that there's some blood in my underwear.
My period started.
In an instant, all the good feelings in my chest evaporate in an icy flood. Tears suddenly clog my throat.
Not pregnant.