Chapter 54
Dominic
I was the first to join Cecily and Glenn in the parking lot, after waking up and finding Cecily gone.
I was followed closely by the rest of the Hampton family.
Shock reverberated through them all, rendering them unable to make plans for what to do next.
Even Duke, with his leadership skills, was at a loss.
I stepped in, arranging transport for Ophelia to a funeral home in Phoenix.
I called the RV company, informing them we would be returning the RV early.
Glenn drove us home, and I paged through the second half of We're Going To Have Fun, DAMMIT, calling the remaining destinations and canceling our bookings.
Cecily sat beside me, tucked up against my side while I dialed with one hand. I was unwilling to release her, even for a second. She was hollow, bereft, and I wanted her to feel the warmth of my palm.
We returned to the same parking lot we departed from just under two weeks ago. The same man waited for us, murmuring his condolences as Glenn handed him all three keys to the Road Kraken.
Now here we are, standing in a circle, our bags at our feet, unsure what to say next.
Cecily speaks first. "Well, um. I guess we'll call a car." She glances at me, and I nod. She digs in her purse for her phone.
Glenn asks, "Has anybody eaten today?"
Collectively, the group shakes their heads.
"There's a lunch spot over there." He inclines his head at the shops across the parking lot. "I don't know if it's any good, but it probably doesn't matter. Everyone needs to eat. Besides, uh…" He sniffs, hands going into his pockets. "I'm not sick of you yet, so, yeah."
It's Glenn's way of saying he'd like more time with his family.
"Sure," everyone murmurs.
Rainbow breaks off, walking toward the coffee shop where we all caffeinated before hitting the road.
"Rainbow," Kerrigan calls. "Where are you going?"
Rainbow's eyes are teary as she says, "My job is done."
"Sorry, no," Kerrigan replies. Her nose is red, her eyes puffy. "I have questions about moonstones. And vortexes. And sound bowl techniques."
Rainbow allows the faintest of smiles onto her face. "I suppose I could share my knowledge."
Lunch is odd, but everybody makes an effort.
Cecily tells the story of the guy she went on a date with who tried to steal the salt shaker, and there are chuckles around the table.
For a brief moment, there is a lighter feeling, but it is smacked down by the heaviness of the day.
That is how grief works. It's a process.
Nobody tries to be happy, or anything they aren't. They are simply trying to do it together.
After lunch, we part ways. Everyone will see each other soon, and Glenn and Marilyn will stay in town to be a part of planning Ophelia's funeral.
Cecily asks me to come back to her place. When I offer to have Klein pick me up, she tells me she'd like to stay in my orbit.
This is precisely why I do not need to hear her tell me she loves me. Her actions make it clear.
When Cecily takes a shower that afternoon, I hear her crying.
Stepping in behind her, I take her in my arms. Hold her while the warm water pours over us.
Afterward, I towel dry her body and her hair, and she drapes across my chest in bed and falls asleep.
While she softly snores, I look at the final text Ophelia sent me, just after she parted ways with Cecily last night.
I didn't see it until I woke up this morning, when I checked my phone hoping to see Cecily's absence explained by her in a text.
Ophelia: I'm happy she found you. Don't duck it up.
Ophelia: Dammit. I said FUCK. Don't duck it up.
Ophelia: DAMMIT.
I laugh silently at the words, hearing them in her voice. Salty heat burns my eyes, and they fill with tears. I've been staying strong for Cecily, for her family, but I'm hurting, too. I only knew Ophelia a short time, but to know her is to love her.
I try to control the shuddering of my chest, but it wakes Cecily anyway. She takes one look at me, sleepy-eyed, and knows.
Her tears spill forth. She cries and cries, hiccuping sobs that send me searching for tissues. I can't find a box, so I make my own with a wad of toilet paper, the end streaming like the tail of a kite.
Cecily noisily blows her nose, and I tell her, "My parents never bought tissues. They said it was a waste of money."
She smiles in the most wistful way. She's radiant in the late afternoon sun. "They were probably right."
Climbing back into her bed, I pull her onto me. She props herself on an elbow and brushes her hand over my chest. "I'm grateful you knew her."
"I am too."
Later, when the dehydration headaches we got from crying have subsided, I run out for groceries.
"How much did you hate driving my Jeep?" Cecily holds out her palm for her car keys when I return.
"It wasn't as bad as I remember." Lie. I hate that vehicle.
She smirks. "Sure."
"What exactly is your reason for"—I reach into the grocery bag—"this?"
Cecily's eyes grow wide. "I can explain."
I brandish the weird little doll. "It was under your passenger seat. An orange fell from the bag and rolled under. Imagine my surprise reaching for an orange but coming away with whatever this is." Despite the terrible hair, I see the similarities.
"First of all, no harm came to you as a result of that doll." Cecily snatches it from my hand.
I walk into her kitchen and unpack the groceries. "He needs to be thrown out."
"He has a name," she defends, reaching for the bottle of white wine I picked up.
"Yeah, I know. Dominic."
"His name is Malibu Dom."
I freeze. Turn around with the box of dried pasta. "Malibu Dom? As in, Barbie?"
Cecily lifts her chin. "Maybe."
"Are you saying I look like Malibu Ken?"
"I'm saying you look like Malibu Dom."
I shake my head at her. "Do you think your grandmother would've approved of me calling you Savage Cecily?"
Cecily nods. "Absolutely, yes." She twists the top off the wine and takes a long pull. "She would encourage me to drink my feelings, too."
I smack the counter. "Sit up here and drink your feelings while I make you dinner."
Cecily obliges, leaning sideways to awkwardly remove a small tumbler and pour some wine for me. She watches me look through all the cabinets and drawers, finding what I need to make chicken fettuccine alfredo.
I'm filling a pot with water when she asks, "Has your boss responded to your email yet? I'm sorry I forgot to ask."
"Don't apologize." I brush a hand over her thigh on my way past. "Today has been a hard day."
Cecily takes a sip, saying, "To put it mildly."
"Do you want to hear some good news?"
Cecily's eyes light up. "You know the answer to that."
"My boss said she prefers not to have me as competition."
Cecily sits up straighter. She leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the counter. "And that means?"
"She'd like me to open a Phoenix branch of the Whitaker Literary Agency." A thrill I haven't allowed myself to feel sweeps through me. Holding onto differing emotions simultaneously has not been without difficulty.
A smile breaks onto Cecily's face. The first genuine one I've seen from her all day. "Are you telling me my husband is going to live in the same city as me?"
I go to her, placing my hands on either side of her legs. "Exactly what I'm saying. We're going to have a favorite sushi place. Find the best donuts. Double date with Klein and Paisley."
Cecily holds my face in her hands, lightly scratching my scruff. "You'll appreciate the smell of rain again."
"That's the plan."
I finish cooking dinner, and Cecily carries the wine out to her patio. We eat dinner in the small space, balancing plates of pasta on our laps. The sunset is brilliant, the pink turning into ruby at the top and orange at the bottom.
Cecily twirls noodles on her fork. "It's hard to feel sad and happy at the same time. The happiness is a reminder that life goes on, but the sadness takes me back to yesterday, when she was alive."
"It'll probably be like that for a while."
"You sure you're ready to put up with all my grief?"
I tip my chin at her. "The past couple weeks should speak for me."
"True."
"I have one request, though."
Her eyebrows lift, waiting.
"Please get rid of Malibu Dom."