"Before you get to regaling everybody with your story," Grandma interrupts. "I'm going to call it a night." She sends us a wave and air kisses, and Rainbow assists her from the room. I don't know how much assisting Rainbow's doing, but she's there in case Grandma needs her.
"What happened?" my dad asks my mom.
"I was at the bar getting another round for us when people around me started fighting. I don't know their reason, but suddenly it was a group of people, and some woman pushed me. Twice. Cecily saw it happen, and she rushed in and punched the lady. Then she yelled at her.Don't touch my mom." Mom reenacts it, leaning over a phantom person at the bar, finger pressing hard the way mine did.
It's the most animated I've seen her since I can't remember when.
"Did anybody know who you were?" Duke asks, alarm and worry creasing his tone. Always thinking about the family image, like my dad when we were young.
I frown at my smart-yet-dumb brother. "We're not famous, asshat."
"Don't make her mad," my mom warns, swiping a chip through the salsa. "She can throw a punch."
Duke looks at me with,say it isn't so, a morsel of respect. He offers me a fist bump. "Good work defending Mom. Didn't know you had it in you."
I bristle. "Did you think I would leave her to fight it out herself?"
Duke picks up his beer, closing his eyes briefly like he's trying to get control of his emotions. "No, Cecily, that is not what I thought."
"You just said that you didn't know I had it in me to defend Mom."
"I meant I didn't know you had it in you to fight. Of course you would defend Mom."
"Oh." I really read that one incorrectly. "Ok. Thanks."
Duke offers the bottom of his beer, clinking it against the bottom of my water glass in a reconciliatory way. I return the gesture with a small smile.
The bartender drops off the margaritas and another round of beers.
Mom takes a healthy sip of her margarita. "You should have seen Cecily," she says, drink aloft. "Everyone in that bar was afraid of her."
This couldn't be more untrue, but I don't correct her because she's doing something new.Bragging. About me. Not openly complaining about how I'm argumentative, or ungrateful, or disinterested in our family. She's saying something complimentary.
"I'm sure the security guards who came rushing in at the end were not afraid of me, but I wasn't sticking around to see." I grab a chip and drag it through the brightest of the salsas. "Holy—" I press a hand to my mouth as fire consumes my tongue. "What is that?" I ask, pointing at the orange-colored salsa.
"Habanero," Dom answers, pushing my water into my hand.
"Your husband has been eating it all night," Duke says. "Apparently he is impervious to spicy food."
Beer poised at his lips, Dom says, "I like spice." His fingers, splayed against my lower back, dip a half inch into the waistband of my denim skirt. He drags them back and forth across my skin, lighting a fire in my belly as hot as the residual burning across my mouth.
The family makes small talk, asking Dom about a day in the life of a literary agent, and I bide my time, waiting for Dom to finish his beer. I want to get out of here, now. I want Dom in our hotel room.
With only a few sips remaining in his beer, I turn my face into Dom's chest and murmur, "Let's go."
I hear it in my voice. The sex. The desire. The need. Consummating this marriage is starting to look like an eventuality.
Kerrigan's questions from earlier this evening pound in my head, a drumbeat.
What does life look like for you and Dom once this is over?
Is it an annulment and you two return to opposite sides of the country?
Or do you think you might have a shot at something great?
"Well," Dom says, pushing his empty beer to the far edge of the bar. "Cecily and I are going to hit the hay."
"Is that what the kids are calling it?" Kerrigan asks.
