The amount of angst I'm experiencing over this entire situation is exhausting me. At this point, I am sick of myself.
Klein and I make a supermarket sweep through a local grocery store, picking up enough to last until Monday morning when I'm due to meet Cecily and her family at the closest coffee shop to Ophelia's house, where the motor home will be waiting.
Though Monday morning approaches like a freight train barreling down the tracks, Cecily remains quiet. In my stomach, the uneasiness grows. It was painless to confidently announce my attendance when the trip wasn't staring me in the eyes.
For a guy who usually knows how stories will go, I don't have a clue how this will end.
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 usa 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, likeduh. "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 starvingfor 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.
