Interesting.
She's looking up at me.
I'm looking down at her.
Her rosebud lips, pressed together, slowly peel apart. A flush spreads on her cheeks.
"Are you planning on ringing the doorbell, Cecily?"
Gaze locked on mine, she leans closer. Memories trickle into the moment. Her draped over me, skin warm and eyes glassy, smile spreading lazy and slow as we danced. I like that version of her. Carefree. Happy. Now she draws near to me, chest lightly coasting over mine. The slope of her curves brushes over me. Every part of me is at attention, my fingers longing to reach for her hips.
I only chose you because I was drunk.
I need to be drunk to like you.
Lies, if this is any indication.
Cecily's arm stretches out, reaching past me. She presses her other palm to my shoulder, using me to steady herself. A loud bell sound rings out, playing a melody.
"Down boy," she whispers before pushing off me and bringing herself upright.
A retort springs forth, ready, but the front door opens. An old woman stands there, dramatically dressed in a flowing, brightly colored floral caftan and a large gold necklace.
This must be Savage Grandma.
"Well, well, well," she says, as if she finds everything about this very entertaining. "If it isn't the newlyweds."
CHAPTER 11
Cecily
With a flat palm,I gesture at the large, frowning man beside me. "Grandma, this is Dominic."
Grandma's raspberry-lipsticked mouth stretches into a wide smile. Her sparkling eyes appraise Dominic, head to toe and back again. "Your husband," she says, like she's reminding me.
As if I could forget for a single second. As ifmy husbandhasn't ruled every one of my thoughts since waking up beside him Saturday morning.
"Yes." Even I hear the reluctance in my tone.
Grandma eyes me. Shrewd. Insightful. When I was little, I thought she was a mind reader, and that firecracker of a woman let me believe it. I was eleven when she admitted she's actually just very good at reading people's emotions.
She steps back from the door, inviting us in. When I step inside, I wrap her in a hug. Grandma has always been a fleshy woman. Well-rounded shoulders for me to hold on to, a back with space for my palms to spread. Today, she feels different. I cannot place why. Maybe it is simply a feeling, or perhaps it's anxiety. Maybe I am looking for signs of a problem, an attempt to prep myself for bad news.
I pull back. Her gaze meets mine. Her eyes speak for her. Sassy, as always.I didn't call you here for nothing.
"Well, Dominic," she says, turning to him, and away from my silent, raging questions. "Welcome to the family. I am thrilled Cecily has found her other half. Cecily's father, also known as my son, is out by the pool spitting nails about the two of you. He's a little high-strung on a good day, so this should be interesting."
Dominic coughs. "Thank you, Mrs...?"
He looks to me for help.
"Hampton," I answer, but my grandma says, "Please call me Ophelia."
She pivots away from the door, walking ahead with a flourish, tropical-colored caftan swishing.
"Grandma, wait," I say before I can think much more about it. She's special to me. Different from the other members of my family. I want her to hear the truth about me and Dom now, not when I'm announcing it to everybody else.
"Later, dear," Grandma interrupts. "We've got to get out there before they come to find us. I don't want your father's negative energy in here. I just had the place saged. Come on," she trills, an arm held aloft as she beckons us with two fingers.
