Dom walks beside me, footfalls measured. This house is a lot for a person to take in, but there's no time to stop. Grandma walks with purpose.
Dom steps into the backyard just behind me, and I hear the intake of his breath. The soft murmur of, "Wow."
It's opulent by any standard. A glimmering pool set atop a mountain, the city awake and thriving below us.
Everyone is already here, seated around an acacia table beneath a matching pergola. Duke is on my dad's right, and really there is no other seat as appropriate. Duke is Dad's right-hand man. Kerrigan sits across from him, and my mom is on my dad's other side. My mother, with her impossibly perfectblonde shoulder-length bob and diamond-studded ears, looks bored. Possibly drunk. She may not know any of us are here. She might not know wheresheis. Her gaze is on me, but she's poised and elegant with a blank expression. I wish I felt as calm and cool as I know I appear on the outside. Situations like this sometimes send me back to my teenage years, and all the angst that accompanied them.
Dad clocks our arrival with a narrowed gaze. Physically, he matches my mother. Well-groomed and tended, stingy with his love. His chair scrapes the floor as he pushes back from the table and stands. His tone is measured when he says, "Cecily, how could you?"
I'm prepared to first tell the truth, then weather the lecture headed my way. For a time, anyway. I'll only tolerate it for so long before I put a stop to it. That's the number one reason I don't live on Hampton family money. My dad can't call the shots when he's not footing the bill. Kerrigan, bless her heart, is content to live the opposite of me.
I open my mouth to speak, but the oddest thing happens. Dominic speaks instead.
"Sir, hello. I'm Dominic Bellinger." He steps up beside me, reaching across the table with an offered hand. His voice is deep, confident, and respectful. "My apologies for the shocking text you received this weekend."
Nobody needs this song and dance, not when I'm about to drop a truth bomb, but I have to admit, it's nice. Having Dom in my corner feels good.
My dad glares at Dom, reluctantly shaking his hand. "You married my daughter," he accuses.
Dom nods decisively. "I did."
"Do you think that was appropriate? Marrying her without asking my permission?"
My eye roll is one for the record books, but once again, Dom is there. Saying the right thing. "The only person whose permission I need to marry Cecily is Cecily. I most definitely would've asked you for your blessing though, had there been an opportunity to do things the right way."
My dad stares at Dom, gaze shrewd. Calculating. A typical expression for Glenn Hampton. "Who are you? Where did Cecily find you?"
I speak up. I can't help it. He's referenced me directly. And instead of telling the truth about everything like I should, I sass. "The gutter, obviously." I pinch a small square of Dom's shirt and say, "This tight-weave knit shirt screamsstreet urchin."
Dom chuckles. He's probably also feeling relief. For the past few days my ire has been directed his way.
My dad frowns, which is yet another typical expression. "I see you haven't lost that smart mouth."
"As intact as ever," I volley, catching my grandma's eye. She nods once, slowly, and I'm not sure if she's telling me she's here for me or giving me her approval. Either way, I'll take it.
"Can we not do this anymore?" Duke finally speaks up. "Cecily, everyone is shocked and handling it their own way." He looks at our dad. "Some better than others."
Dad ignores Duke. He wears a red polo, and it was a bad choice for today, because it makes his red face redder. "You're getting it annulled." He looks only at me as he says this. "Immediately."
I stiffen. Dom and I are headed straight to the courthouse from here, but my dad doesn't know that. And if there's anything I hate, it's being told what to do. Especially by him.
My chin lifts. "No."
I'd love to see how Dom is absorbing this exchange, but I can't look. There can be no chink in the armor when it comesto dealing with my dad. He smells weakness. Pounces on it. Manipulates it to get his way.
My mom stands. Demurely brushes a palm over her smart little sweater with the gold buttons. She touches my dad's forearm, as if to say,My turn.
Quickly I look at Kerrigan, and find she's already looking at me, expression of disbelief firmly in place.
"Dominic," my mom says in greeting, "I'm Marilyn."
"It's nice to meet you, ma'am."
My mom continues as if she has not heard him. "If you won't get this marriage annulled, we'll have to throw you a reception." There is almost no emotion in her tone. "We need to dosomethingto show this marriage has ourblessing. We'll have to do it quickly though, before you start showing."
Dom makes a choking sound. "No, no. We're not expecting a baby."
Mom looks at me. I haven't seen her in a few months. We don't talk. We don't text. She is an island, floating off on her own a mile from the mainland.
