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 aboyhome."
I scoff. "Sorry. Aman."
He pinches my top between two fingers and tugs me closer. "You brought yourhusbandhome."
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 sois 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 wasonly 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.
CHAPTER 57
