Chapter 23
Cecily
Monday morning arrives swiftly, bringing with it a sense of foreboding. I've heard of dry drowning, but is dread drowning a thing, too?
As previously instructed, most of my family shows up to the parking lot at nine.
My parents and Duke stayed the night at a hotel nearby, and the hotel van drove them over.
Klein picked me up with Dom this morning, and dropped us off.
I planned on getting a ride over, but Dom texted last night and offered to have Klein pick me up.
Good thing he did, because it would've invited questions if we showed up separately.
Not having rings is bad enough, and when I thought about it yesterday, I decided not to mention it to Dom.
Wearing rings would take this situation that is already bad and make it worse.
If anyone asks, I'll say I haven't found the right one yet.
For now, we are waiting for my grandma and Rainbow. They are running late, so we've all popped into the freestanding coffee shop beside the busy road, placing orders for large coffees.
Through the store window sits the shiny black, gargantuan motor home.
The man who drove it here is waiting inside the vehicle for everyone to be present, at which point he will give us a lesson in how to operate the thing.
My plan is to not listen, so when it comes time to be my turn I can claim I lack the skill to safely drive us.
Dom, bless his heart, makes small talk with Duke while we wait.
They gesture with their coffees while they speak, and Dom holds a paper bag in his other hand.
Kerrigan pushes her oversized sunglasses onto her head, surreptitiously glances at Dom, and, sipping her iced vanilla latte, says, "Don't take this the wrong way, but your husband is a dime. "
I sip my own hot latte, just to buy a few moments before saying, "Are you calling Dominic a ten?" Not that I don't agree, because unfortunately, I do.
Since that night in the restaurant parking lot I have done very little but think of Dom.
The way he showed me I'd misunderstood his half of the conversation instead of telling me.
The fact that he's here on this road trip with my family simply because my grandmother has requested it. How many men would do those things?
And, worst of all, is the gall my body has to be attracted to him.
The way he looked when he FaceTimed me in that cab, wearing a gray hoodie and his handsome face.
How dare he wear his handsome face? All these years together, and my body betrays me the second she fancies a tall, broad-shouldered, kind-hearted man.
Somebody should have told me to keep dating low-caliber men.
They're safer. No chance of losing my heart to a salt shaker thief.
My sister snaps her fingers in my face. "Hello? Where did you go?"
The same well-worn road I've been traveling the past four days. A little town called Dominic Bellinger. Population: two.
"Sorry," I say, knocking my sister's hand out of the way. "I was just thinking about how Dominic is a ten."
"Don't lose sight of that universal truth," Kerrigan says matter-of-factly. "You know who else likes tens?"
My eyebrows lift as I shake my head. "Who?"
"Everybody," Kerrigan says, like duh. "Literally everybody. So maybe refresh yourself on how to throw a punch." She jabs the air with only her right hand. In the other hand, she holds fast to her iced coffee. Priorities.
Cool. I can't wait to box someone to protect my claim to my temporary hubby. "Doesn't matter. We're not for real." I'd told Kerrigan everything about the way Dom is holding the annulment hostage, but she insists on talking about Dom like this isn't the real life equivalent of a punchline to a joke.
Dom stands beside the large coffee shop window. The shopping plaza in the background brims with fancy boutiques and boozy brunch spots. The white T-shirt Dom wears makes his tan skin appear darker. He has paired it with drawstring shorts in a tawny color, and a brown leather backpack.
Dom catches my gaze and excuses himself from Duke.
"Ladies," he says, stepping over to us. "Cecily, I got this for you.
" He presses the paper bag he'd been holding into my hand.
"It's a blueberry muffin. You mentioned in the car on the way here that you didn't eat breakfast this morning, and I noticed you didn't buy food for yourself.
The barista swore it's the best muffin you'll ever have in your life.
Specially delivered from a small town up north once a week. "
The kindness of his gesture steals my breath away. I genuinely don't know the last time somebody was this considerate toward me.
Dom looks at Kerrigan and asks, "How are you this morning?
" It's as if he knows I need the spotlight taken off me so I can absorb his gesture sans audience.
He's right, I did skip breakfast, and now that I know what's in the bag, I'm starving for it.
Removing the muffin, I peel the liner and take a big bite, trying not to groan at how delicious it is.
"Well," Kerrigan launches in, "I'm sure you already know how Cecily is, but I'm sad."
"Why is that?" Dom asks politely.
I've already heard all this, so I settle in for take two and eat the rest of the muffin. Kerrigan lives for dramatizing her life, but she tones it down for me because she knows I won't have the response she prefers. Dom, however, is fresh meat.
"First off," Kerrigan begins theatrically, "I had to leave Moose at the boarding facility, and he hates it there."
"Moose is a dog?" Dom asks.
Kerrigan nods. "He's the sweetest Golden Retriever in the world—"
"Dumbest," I cough into my hand.
Kerrigan shoots me an affronted look. "Moose is a very smart boy."
"Moose chased his tail so exuberantly he knocked himself off the stairs and smacked his head on the corner of a brick paver and needed stitches."
"He was committed to his task," Kerrigan defends.
"He steals food off your counters and hides it under your pillow." I look at Dom, who's laughing. "He has yet to realize he never gets to eat what he steals."
Kerrigan rolls her eyes. "Any-way," she says with emphasis. "Moose was very upset this morning. Even though I booked him the biggest room with the best bed and his own television. And daily spa treatments."
Dom blinks hard, and me? I watch it unfold. Kerrigan has no idea how bougie this dog boarding facility is, so she talks about it as if TVs and spa treatments are commonplace for dogs. Don't get me started on the continuous livestream the owners can join to watch their dogs.
"I kept telling Moose he was going to have the best time in their pool, but"—dramatic sigh—"he wouldn't listen." Kerrigan shrugs. "I wish I could've brought him on this trip with us, but Grandma said no."
I snort. I can't help it. "Just what we need to add even more flavor to this road trip. A seventy-pound shedding machine whose two brain cells randomly knock into each other."
Kerrigan sticks her tongue out at me. "You love him, and you know it." Then she marches to the coffee shop door and steps outside.
Dom sinks into a chair at an open table. I do the same, sitting opposite him. "Thank you for the muffin. I needed it." Are we being nice to each other now? Because it feels weird.
Dom crosses an ankle over the opposite knee. He pinches his lower lip between two fingers like he's considering me before saying, "I know you prefer to think of me in a negative light, so don't worry, buying you that muffin was for my self-preservation. You're meaner when you're hungry."
My mouth drops open. I can't believe I tiptoed around the possibility of maybe being nice to Dom.
"Do you dislike dogs?" Dom asks, moving us swiftly away from the topic.
He removes the lid from his coffee, bringing it to his lips and blowing gently across the top.
It's distracting, and I'm grateful when he keeps speaking.
"If so, it wasn't on your All About Me, and it's an important detail to know. "
"Lest you think I'm a monster, let me stop you right there.
I love Moose. When Kerrigan had the flu last winter, I showed up twice a day to walk him.
He stole a kid's ball when we passed a park, and deflated it.
I handed twenty dollars to the crying child and apologized.
He also nabbed a cinnamon roll from a man sitting on a bench.
That walk ended up costing me twenty-five dollars, not including the value of time spent.
" I picture Moose's face, his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth.
"It's impossible not to love a goofy boy who smiles when he's being dumb and naughty. "
One side of Dom's mouth curves upward. "Noted. To make you love me, I must act goofy and smile while being dumb and naughty."
My laugh sticks in my throat, making it sound deeper, sexier than I intend. "I suppose it doesn't matter, because you have no interest in making me love you, right?" My volume decreased while I was speaking, ending on a whisper.
Dom holds my gaze, a hundred words floating in those blue irises, before simply saying, "Right."
The coffee shop door swings open, and Kerrigan announces loudly, "Grandma's here." Several strangers turn and look before resuming their activities.
We all file out, Dom stepping in behind me.
Is he going to put his hand on the small of my back, guiding me out the door?
Isn't that something a husband would do for his wife?
Do I want him to? He did it that day Grandma called the family meeting, but maybe that was only because I'd received awful news.
Maybe it was only empathy he was showing me, and touching me right now would be something else.
The seconds tick by, and Dom doesn't place his hand on my back. I'm so sidetracked by the thought I don't notice what everyone else has picked up on already.