Kerrigan nods. "He's the sweetest Golden Retriever in the world?—"
"Dumbest," I cough into my hand.
Kerrigan shoots me an affronted look. "Moose is a very smart boy."
"Moose chased his tail so exuberantly he knocked himself off the stairs and smacked his head on the corner of a brick paver and needed stitches."
"He was committed to his task," Kerrigan defends.
"He steals food off your counters and hides it under your pillow." I look at Dom, who's laughing. "He has yet to realize he never gets to eat what he steals."
Kerrigan rolls her eyes. "Any-way," she says with emphasis. "Moose was very upset this morning. Even though I booked him the biggest room with the best bed and his own television. And daily spa treatments."
Dom blinks hard, and me? I watch it unfold. Kerrigan has no idea how bougie this dog boarding facility is, so she talks about it as if TVs and spa treatments are commonplace for dogs. Don't get me started on the continuous livestream the owners can join to watch their dogs.
"I kept telling Moose he was going to have the best time in their pool, but"—dramatic sigh—"he wouldn't listen." Kerrigan shrugs. "I wish I could've brought him on this trip with us, but Grandma said no."
I snort. I can't help it. "Just what we need to add even more flavor to this road trip. A seventy-pound shedding machine whose two brain cells randomly knock into each other."
Kerrigan sticks her tongue out at me. "You love him, and you know it." Then she marches to the coffee shop door and steps outside.
Dom sinks into a chair at an open table. I do the same, sitting opposite him. "Thank you for the muffin. I needed it." Are we being nice to each other now? Because it feels weird.
Dom crosses an ankle over the opposite knee. He pinches his lower lip between two fingers like he's considering me before saying, "I know you prefer to think of me in a negative light, so don't worry, buying you that muffin was for my self-preservation. You're meaner when you're hungry."
My mouth drops open. I can't believe I tiptoed around the possibility of maybe being nice to Dom.
"Do you dislike dogs?" Dom asks, moving us swiftly away from the topic. He removes the lid from his coffee, bringing it to his lips and blowing gently across the top. It's distracting, and I'm grateful when he keeps speaking. "If so, it wasn't on your All About Me, and it's an important detail to know."
"Lest you think I'm a monster, let me stop you right there. I love Moose. When Kerrigan had the flu last winter, I showed up twice a day to walk him. He stole a kid's ball when we passed a park, and deflated it. I handed twenty dollars to the crying child and apologized. He also nabbed a cinnamon roll from a man sitting on a bench. That walk ended up costing me twenty-five dollars, not including the value of time spent." I picture Moose's face, his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth. "It's impossiblenot to love a goofy boy who smiles when he's being dumb and naughty."
One side of Dom's mouth curves upward. "Noted. To make you love me, I must act goofy and smile while being dumb and naughty."
My laugh sticks in my throat, making it sound deeper, sexier than I intend. "I suppose it doesn't matter, because you have no interest in making me love you, right?" My volume decreased while I was speaking, ending on a whisper.
Dom holds my gaze, a hundred words floating in those blue irises, before simply saying, "Right."
The coffee shop door swings open, and Kerrigan announces loudly, "Grandma's here." Several strangers turn and look before resuming their activities.
We all file out, Dom stepping in behind me. Is he going to put his hand on the small of my back, guiding me out the door? Isn't that something a husband would do for his wife? Do I want him to? He did it that day Grandma called the family meeting, but maybe that was only because I'd received awful news. Maybe it was only empathy he was showing me, and touching me right now would be something else.
The seconds tick by, and Dom doesn't place his hand on my back. I'm so sidetracked by the thought I don't notice what everyone else has picked up on already.
Kerrigan, astonishment rounding out her voice, says, "Grandma, are you giving Cecily the Bentley?"
My attention snaps to where my grandma stands beside the person I'm assuming is Rainbow. She wears bell-bottoms, and a large Nirvana T-shirt with a fringe cut into the bottom. Her midnight black braid curves around her head like a horseshoe. She's beside my grandma, who stands next to her prized Bentley convertible, top down.
Before I can begin to understand what is happening here I pull my grandma into a hug. There will only be so many more times I can do this, and I don't want to miss the opportunity.
"I'm sure you're wondering what Kerrigan is talking about," my grandma says, patting my cheek when I let her go.
"You never know," I whisper. "It could be the shrooms talking."
Grandma cackles. "Not this time." She pokes the end of my nose. "Go around to the trunk."
I back up until I see what she is talking about. Written on thick white poster board in black marker are the wordsJust Married.
"What's going on?" I look to Dom, checking to see if he is in on whatever this is, but he only shrugs.
