Chapter 26
Cecily
I opened the binder with one hour remaining in the drive. I wish I hadn't. I am officially freaking out.
Page one. Stop one. I didn't make it past the first page. The first reservation, even.
Cecily and Dominic - King bed.
"You ok over there?" Dom asks, sending me a worried gaze before returning his eyes to the road. "If you're going to be sick, let me know. I'll pull over."
Do I look green? Maybe I am an unflattering shade of putrid, but it has nothing to do with the Bugles I powered through.
"Dom," I begin, tone serious. "Please stay calm when I tell you this." Deep breath. "My grandma has booked us a room that only has one bed."
How in the world did I not see this coming? I look at Dom, ready to see my alarm mirrored in his expression. But, no.
He's making a face that can only be described as Yeah, well, what did you think was going to happen?
"Hello?" I ask. "Feel free to join me in the tsunami of dismay I'm experiencing over here."
Dom rubs his cheeks with a palm. "I admit I hadn't thought about it, but now that I am, it makes sense. From her perspective, why wouldn't we sleep in a bed together? We're married."
"We're married," I parrot. "Dom, how are we going to share a bed?"
"We've already shared a bed once," he points out. "In Vegas."
"Yes, but I didn't know I was sharing a bed with you.
I was drunk, remember? This is vastly different.
" My breath comes faster. I cannot share a bed with Dom.
It'll be too much. Too difficult. This is really asking a lot of my self-control.
My brain hates him, but my body is being very stubborn about receiving that message.
"When we go to get an annulment, what if they ask us if we've been sleeping together? "
"I don't think sleeping in a bed at the same time is what they mean when they ask that question. If they ask it at all."
I sit up in the seat. "Will they?"
"I'm assuming so, but I don't know for certain," Dom says, patience sounding forced. "You're my first annulment."
I drop back into my seat. "I don't see a way around this. Unless you sleep on the floor."
"I will not sleep on the floor."
"Why?"
"I like my back, thank you very much. If I'm going to be driving to different destinations until we give Bernice back, I prefer to keep my back pain-free."
"I guess." I cross my arms as hare-brained ideas pass through my mind. "Maybe we could find an empty room and con one of the hotel staff into letting you use it. You could put that pretty face to work." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I'm in for it.
"You think I have a pretty face?" Dom asks.
I sigh, long and loud, to let him know how obnoxious I find this. "You are mathematically good-looking."
"Explain."
"Your face is symmetrical." I gesture around my face. "Your nose has a pleasing slope."
"Careful, Menace. You know what they say."
"What's that?"
"Compliments lead to softened feelings, and that's a threat to all that loathing you feel for me."
"Don't you worry, Errand Boy. My hard feelings are in no jeopardy of diminishing."
"Good. For a second there..." He trails off, leaving my thoughts flailing like a trapeze artist suffering a malfunction.
This is his way of communicating that although he is gallant, and likes to flirt, and is extraordinarily caring, he has no interest in me beyond surviving these next few weeks and annulling our marriage. It's imperative I keep that top of mind.
Oddly, it makes the whole only one bed scenario more palatable. The only feelings I'll be fighting in bed at night will be mine.
"This forces a conversation we need to have anyway," I declare, composing myself. "What are the parameters around public displays of affection? We're not selling this relationship, so it's not like we need to go hard."
Dom nods, quietly focused on passing a semi-truck. When we're cleared, he says, "I'll follow your lead. I'm still not sure why you didn't tell your family the truth from the beginning."
"Because I hated the way my dad assumed he would control what was going to happen. How he instructed us to get an annulment, without asking questions. How could he assume I would blindly follow his directive?"
Dom's phone belts out an instruction to exit the freeway at the next ramp, and he complies. "Probably because a lot of people do." He leans forward to check the traffic from the left before easing the car right.
I scoff. "His employees, sure. But not me."
Dom only nods, and it makes me realize we have not talked about his parents and if he told them what we did.
"I'm sorry I didn't think to ask about that night you had dinner with your parents.
" I was busy making Malibu Dom, but that probably doesn't need mentioning right now. "Did you tell them what we did?"
"Yeah." Something in his demeanor changes. Perhaps it's his shoulders, the way they curl in a degree. For reasons I do not understand, his parents are a touchy subject. "My dad thought it was hilarious. He asked if he can meet you. My mom had a far more expected and appropriate reaction."
"Horrified?" I ask.
"She called it an oopsie." His jaw clenches.
"To be fair," I point out, "I called it an oopsie that first morning, too."
"I recall," he says dryly. "It was a poor decision, sure, but an oopsie is when you throw a football to a friend but it sails through their hands and hits someone nearby in the head. It's unintentional."
I look out the window, getting my bearings. The University of Arizona campus is on my right, the first building a terra cotta brick structure lined in tall, skinny palm trees. A metal sign reads Architecture & Landscape Architecture.
"If an oopsie is unintentional, and you wouldn't call us an oopsie, does that mean you intended to marry me, Dominic?"
We slow for a red light. The car in front of us has a bumper sticker that says Free Hugs.
Dominic presses his forearm on the center console, leaning over it to capture my gaze. It's like he wants to make sure I see him when he says, "In the moment, yes. I did."