Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Dom reaches for my hand. “What does it say about me that I think Lynne’s taste complements mine?”
“That you’re pussywhipped?” Joe asks flippantly.
“Language in this house!” Gemma roars, but she is laughing.
“Happy wife, happy life.” Dom wiggles his eyebrows.
“Putting the cart before the horse, I see.” Joe tears into his chicken wing. Like a savage. Just as I suspected. Mom’s never wrong. Which is why I’m weirded out by how Dom eats chicken. It doesn’t go with his mild, sweet nature.
“I’m a horse now. Awesome,” I mumble, feeling the tension building at the dinner table and trying to diffuse it.
“Listen, man, I love you. I will die for you if need be. But.” Dom salutes Joe with his beer bottle graciously. “You’re just jealous because I’m out of the game and don’t have to go on Tinder anymore.”
“You’re right on one account.” Joe takes a pull of his Guinness. I cough out my drink, mutter a weak apology, and lock myself in the bathroom for a quick session of clutching the sink and hyperventilating. I stare at myself in the mirror, shaking my head.
“Of course it’d happen to you, Ev. Of course.”
By the time I come back, Dom and Joe are laughing, reminiscing about the time they both wrapped themselves in bubble roll and jumped from their tree house, resulting in a broken arm for each of them. Their relationship is so bipolar. I’m picking up on intense protectiveness vibes, and a lot of love, but also an underlying competition and bitterness. This doesn’t look like something born out of a girl. I think it is deeper. Older than my relationship with both Graves brothers.
After dinner, we spill back to the living room. Gemma starts opening her presents, which is a whole ceremony. First, she opens mine. She seems to be genuinely delighted. “Everlynne, it’s fantastic. Thank you so much. I’ve been wanting new candles for a while now!”
Then it’s Joe’s turn. His gift is swimming in fancy tissue paper. I crane my neck to peer into the box and see what it is. When she picks it up, tears prickle her eyes.
“Oh, Seph, honey.” She grabs the item, clutching it to her chest. It’s a peach-colored dress, sixties style. Gemma looks up at Joe. “But . . . how?”
He is sprawled on a recliner, peeling the label off his beer bottle.
“I’d been thinking about it the entire year. Where it could’ve gone. Last month, I started making some calls. One of them was to the woman who bought our old house on Church Creek. I asked her if I could take a look in her attic. She said yes. I spent a good portion of my last weekend on the project. Now her attic is organized and clean, and you have your favorite dress.”
Dom leans toward me, squeezing my knee. “It’s the dress Mom wore for her first date with Dad. She thought she’d lost it forever.”
A knot forms in my throat. What a terrific gesture. Gemma almost falls over when she reaches to hug her younger son. Dom passes her a small green box. His smile is apologetic. “So, this is definitely not a punch-you-in-the-heart kind of gift . . .”
“Shush. Not everything is a competition,” she says.
The words slide smoothly out of her throat. Like she’s said them hundreds of times before. Called it. These two have a layered, complex relationship, and I’m best to stay out of it.
She unwraps the white satin bow, grinning at her elder son. Dom blushes, ducking his head down. Gemma pops the box open and picks up a pearl lock bracelet. It is gorgeous. Elegant and understated. But it doesn’t hit as close or as personal as the dress you wore the day you fell in love, and Dom knows it.
“Sorry it’s not more . . .” He scrubs his overnight stubble awkwardly.
“Dominic!” Gemma gasps, securing the bracelet on her wrist. “What’s the matter with you? It’s wonderful. You work so hard, such long hours, I’m surprised you brought me anything at all.”
She hurries to hug him. As they embrace, Joe’s eyes catch mine. He gives me a conspiratorial smirk. Suddenly, I ache to spend some time with him. One-on-one. Even if it hurts. Even if it kills me.
“But, I think I might be able to top off Joe’s gift, after all.” Dom throws his baby brother a wink. “Because I have another gift.”
“Well, well, well.” Brad sits back. He crosses his ankles over the coffee table. “Just remember I took you to the ballet, Gem. Because these boys are trying to up the ante, and all you’ll find in my envelope to you is a Nordstrom gift card.”
“Actually, this present is not for Mom.” Dom stands up. “Although . . . some would argue that it is.”
My heart speeds up. I suddenly forget how to breathe. No. No. No. What’s worse is that I understand what’s happening before everyone else does. Can anticipate Dom’s next move. I speak his body language fluently.