Chapter 56
Cecily
The following day, I meet my dad at my grandma's house.
I was nervous about being in her home without her, but that feeling fizzled the moment I stepped inside.
My grandma's personality shines through in this huge home with the eclectic decor.
The teal carpeted living room I once thought of as weird now sends a pang through my chest. Everyone forgets beige, Grandma had said. Nobody forgets teal.
My dad is out back on a chaise lounge beside the pool, his laptop balanced on his lap. He looks up as I approach, squinting into the sun behind me.
"Put me to work," I say, instead of hello.
My dad is the other reason I'm nervous today.
I don't know what to expect from him. For years, I knew exactly what I was going to get when I interacted with my father.
It wasn't pleasant, but it was stable. Whoever he is now, or whomever he is trying to become, disrupts established norms. We cannot get to the other side of whatever this all is without growing pains, but damn.
He closes his laptop. "I admire your eagerness. But first, I think we should talk."
A different set of doors leading from the pool into the house opens.
Out steps my mother. She smiles at me, and though it's a little forced, it's a positive response to seeing me when nobody is around to benefit from it.
Grandma isn't present, no appeasing is necessary. Her smile is, well, meant for me.
My mom walks out, and my dad turns his legs so my mom can sit with him. A part of me wishes I could run away, but I sink down on the seat beside him, dropping my purse to my feet. "What about?"
My parents share a knowing glance.
Dad starts. "Your brother has brought some things to our attention that were.
..not great. Ways your mother and I behaved when we were raising the three of you.
Duke and I had a long talk yesterday, and he made it very clear that these were his experiences, and he's not speaking for you or Kerrigan.
But considering both of you moved away, and only one of you comes back to visit, I'm guessing you might share Duke's feelings. "
"I don't know exactly what he said to you." I have a pretty good idea though, if it was anything like our talk that day in the motor home after we were saved from the snow. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. It was easier to hide out two hours away from my parents than it is to confront them.
"When I was fifteen, you told me I made it difficult to love me.
I have never forgotten that. It plays over and over in my head, even now.
It was cruel. It may have also been slightly true.
" Dad opens his mouth, and I don't know what he's going to say, but I halt him with a lifted palm.
"Duke was your eager first-born boy. A little prince, ready to serve his kingdom.
Kerrigan was the baby, easygoing and flexible and open.
I was none of those things. I was headstrong and opinionated.
So it probably was more difficult to love me.
For a long time I thought greater difficulty meant it wasn't worth the hassle.
That I wasn't worth the hassle. And that is just not true. "
At some point while I was speaking, my mom raised her hand to her lips. Now she presses down so hard her lips have lost color. "Mom, you sort of floated away at some point. You stopped being there, even when you were standing in the same room."
She nods, and when she moves her fingers from her mouth, her lips bloom with color again.
"I am sorry, Cecily. Please know that it wasn't you.
It wasn't any of you. It was me. The older you grew, the less I knew how to parent you.
It seemed like you didn't want me anymore.
I know that sounds childish, but at the time it felt like a deep rejection from all three of my children.
I felt useless. I turned to other activities, friends, whatever else I could do to fill my time.
Nobody appeared to care when I did that, or notice.
" She and my dad share a second look, this one full of empathy, and I realize this is not the first time my dad has heard my mom say this.
He is also guilty of not caring, and not noticing.
"I'm sorry you felt that way, Mom. That sounds very lonely."
"It was, but sweetheart, it wasn't your fault."
Sweetheart.
A memory vaults upward into my mind, as if I've plucked it. My mother calling me sweet baby Cece.
Dad runs a hand through his thinning silvery hair.
"There's nothing I can say to change what I said back then.
I vividly remember the day I said it, the way your eyes lit up with fury.
At the time you didn't seem sad, but clearly, it devastated you.
I don't know if I've ever been filled with such regret.
Not until now, anyway, listening to your brother, and you, tell me how I've hurt you both.
" His hands steeple under his chin. "It's no excuse, of course, but when you were young I was building the Hampton brand, and it became all I could see.
All I could think about. There comes a point when a person gets so mired in the day-to-day they stop seeing what's beyond the business.
An obsession, in a way. And I became obsessed with making something of myself, on my own.
" He shakes his head. "That was something your grandma and I had to work out during the road trip.
Separate from all the work that needed to be done in my own family. "
I hadn't known there was anything to be worked out between my dad and my grandma. The RV was huge, but how did all those hard feelings fit in there?
"I've already told your brother, and now I'll tell you." Dad takes Mom's hand. "I am retiring from Hampton & Co. From here on out, your brother is the CEO. Mom and I are going to spend some time traveling after Grandma's memorial." His thumb brushes her knuckles. "We have a marriage to repair."
"Wow," I say, soaking in the announcement. "That's...great? Is Duke ok with taking over?"
"Yes." My dad chuckles. "I think he's ready for me to leave. He has plans for the company, and it's time to let him execute."
"I was hoping," my mother says, "that you might let us throw a reception for you and Dom when we return from our travels. Not for any reason other than to celebrate you two."
"Does this mean you'll stop telling me to get an annulment?"
"Yes," Mom hurries to say.
Dad gives me a look. "You have to admit it looked suspicious."
"Dom would live with me in a cardboard box." He kind of already is. My apartment is tiny.
"We're happy for you, Cecily. Really. Seeing you like this, in love like you are"—Mom glances at Dad, who nods—"well, it makes us happy to see you happy. I guess that's all I need to say."
Mom invites me to stay for dinner, and when I tell her I have plans to meet Dom (technically true.
The plans consist of making cacio e pepe pasta and rolling around in the sheets for the remainder of the evening), she says she has a little surprise.
The doorbell rings, and there's Dom, holding flowers for my mom and a bottle of wine.
My mother graciously accepts the flowers and wine.
Dom greets me with a kiss in the foyer once we're alone, and says, "It feels like we're dating and I'm having dinner at your parents' house for the first time.
" He brushes a kiss over the side of my throat.
"Never mind the fact I've shared at least twenty meals with them already. "
I glance back toward the kitchen, where my mother has turned on Italian dinner music. "It does feel like that." I run my palms over his chest. "You know, I never brought a boy home to meet my parents. You're the first."
"Technically, you didn't bring a boy home."
I scoff. "Sorry. A man."
He pinches my top between two fingers and tugs me closer. "You brought your husband home."
Satisfaction ripples through me. I love that word. Husband.
In the kitchen, my mother has turned out a spread, but there's no unifying theme to it, at least not that I can tell. Pork ribs dripping in barbecue sauce, ahi tuna sushi rolls, green chili enchiladas, pink and white Circus cookies, and Bugles.
Dad surveys the spread and says, "Not that I don't love a smorgasbord, but what's the theme here?"
Dean Martin sings Mambo Italiano, and it makes the scene even more disjointed. And then it hits me.
"These were my favorites. I mean, they still are." I snatch a pink animal-shaped cookie from a platter. "I haven't had these in years." I look at my mom. "Did you shop for this?"
She nods, and say it isn't so is she looking bashful?
"I wasn't sure if you still liked any of this, but I wanted to do something nice for you.
I got everything I could remember you liking, and hoped at least one item would work.
Even if it was only Bugles." She grabs a few from the bowl and fits them over her fingers. "You used to eat them like this."
"She still does," Dom says, hand slipping around my waist. Does he know the state of shock I'm in? Is he literally providing me with what I need to stay upright?
"This looks amazing, Mom. Thank you. I haven't eaten since lunch, and I have big plans to do a lot of damage right now."
Emotion sweeps over my mom's face, but she flutters her hands and says, "Ok, ok, everybody grab a plate. And wine!" She finds Dom's wine and uncorks it.
We eat outdoors, at the same table where I stood across from my father and refused to get an annulment.
My parents ask Dom about his upbringing, his parents, and his job.
It very much feels like they are getting to know each other for the first time.
It kind of feels like I am, too. Who will my parents be from here on out?
Later that night, when we're in bed and I'm recounting the day for Dom, he says, "Savage Grandma was a mastermind."
"That's exactly what she was. She knew what she was doing every step of the way."
Dom lightly strokes my arm. "Except for me. I don't think she saw me coming."
I draw circles on his chest. "She liked you right away."
He presses his nose to my hair, nuzzling. "She liked me for you."
"She liked you for you. But also for me."
Dom flips us over so he's looking down at me. Lips poised at the hollow of my throat, he says, "I'll have to go back to New York next week, after the memorial. Dee wants to meet with me in-person, and then I have to start the process of moving back here."
I pretend to think. "It's been awhile since I've been to New York. Maybe I should go back, make sure it hasn't changed."
Dom's lips sweep over my chest, his hair not swaying as much with the movement as it did last week. The first item on his agenda before going to look at new office space in Scottsdale was to get a haircut.
He lifts his eyes, finding my gaze. "Are you fishing for an invite, Menace?"
I beat back a grin. "There's nothing stopping me from hopping on a plane right now if I wanted. But yeah, I'm hoping a certain someone might invite me to tag along."
Dom's head dips lower, burrowing his face in the valley of my breasts. Muffled now, he says, "You're my wife. You don't need an invite. You're a given."
My nails rake over his back, scratching just the way he likes. "Keep talking like that and you're guaranteed to get laid."
"A man can dream," he says, moving down my body.