“That’s Mom’s ring,” I say as vague memories flash in short bursts through my head. I may have been young, but I remember it. A white gold ring with a round setting. It’s a beautiful double halo with a cushion-cut diamond in the center. It’s gorgeous. I remember watching my mom take it off when she baked.
“It is,” he says. “And I want you to have it.”
I look up at him. My father never ceases to amaze me with how many ways he can annoy, irritate, or attempt to degrade me. But he is rarely capable of surprising me. His hard love is always predictable. Right now, though, he’s throwing a lot of curveballs, and I’m not sure I brought the right mitt.
“You want me to have Mom’s ring?” I ask.
“Yes. This may be hard for you to believe, Dominic, but I know a compatible couple when I see one. You two are a good match. You’d be smart to tie it down. And when you do, I think youshould use your Mother’s ring,” he says. I pick it up off the table, feeling the weight of it in my hand.
“You’re really okay with that?” I ask.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks.
“You won’t mind seeing her ring on another hand?” I ask.
“Better than seeing it every time I open my nightstand drawer,” he says, and I nod. “Alright, enough of the heavy talk. Let’s order. I’ve been thinking about this ribeye since I called you. I want it medium-rare. There’s nothing worse than an overcooked steak.”
“No, there isn’t,” I say with a smile, and for the first time in, well, maybe ever, I enjoy a dinner with my father.
Chapter 30
Mila
Ever since Dominictook me to the empty studio under Wolfe Enterprises, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the possibilities. There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more than to teach dance. Just being able to dance again would be a dream come true. The little routine I did in the middle of a fight ring was fun, but I prefer traditional dancing.
Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t have a real job anymore. I mean, I still clean the house for him, but it’s more like just picking up after us. It doesn’t take long to tidy up most days, and I’m not even cooking anymore. Dominic insisted we hire a personal chef, so now I have a lot of time on my hands. He says I should be out and about, going on dates with him, shopping, doing yoga, and pretty much anything that will bring good attention to us as a couple. As luxurious as that is, I’m not a big money spender, and one can only do so many yoga classes per week.
In short, I get bored. Then I get stir-crazy and just end up sitting by the pool with my laptop, looking up ideas for the studio. If he’s not kidding that it could be a dance studio, it’s going to need bars and more mirrors. It could use an updated soundsystem and different lighting, too. Plus, a desk for a receptionist and locker rooms for the students. It will need a makeover and instructors. And it’s going to cost money.
I am sitting with my laptop on the couch with a plate of sliced apples and peanut butter when there’s a knock at the door. Dominic is at the office today, so I hop up from the couch, popping another apple slice in my mouth before heading to the door. I lick the peanut butter off my fingers as I pad through the foyer. I am surprised at how often the cravings change. Seafood is out and peanut butter is in.
I also feel a pang of guilt. I know I need to tell Dominic that I am pregnant. I know the longer I wait, the harder it’s going to be. But I also want to make sure it’s the right time. I don’t want to complicate things. I’m not showing, but I can tell a difference in the way my clothes are fitting. Eventually other people will be able to tell too.
I open the door and there’s no one there, but there is a package. It’s a large, flat, white box. It feels conspicuous, but when I check the tag that is neatly tucked into the gold bow, any alarm I was feeling is gone.
Dress up. We’re going to dinner tonight. -Dom
A grin spread across my lips, and I rush back inside with the box. As pretty as it is with the golden bow and ribbon, I can’t stop myself from ripping it open. I pull the white tissue paper away from what appears to be a dress. A gorgeous, blush-pink sparkling gown. It’s so elegant that I actually gasp. I pull my phone out and send a photo to Lainey. She calls me immediately.
“What in the name of Arianna Grande is that?” she asks.
“I don’t know! I just found the box with the note. I guess we are going on a date?”
“A real date?” she asks.
“I…guess?” I say, putting the phone on speaker and holding the dress up to me in front of the mirror.
“That’s exciting,” she says. “I swear I knew he was actually into you.”
“I don’t know…” I say, but I can’t stop smiling. I know developing feelings is against the rules. But everything that’s happened recently has felt like maybe, just maybe, my feelings aren’t one-sided.
“Well, it looks like love to me,” she says. “So where is he taking you?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I literally just got the package.”
“Well, text him! I think you need to know!” she exclaims, and I laugh.
“I need to know, or you want to know?” I ask.
