But Sierra said brightly, “What a lovely idea.” Then she explained, “We’ve been in such a hurry all day, we didn’t have time to toast our marriage earlier with our friends.” She turned her gaze on Dominic and he saw the challenge in her eyes.
“Then we must do it now,” Douglas said firmly. He gave Dominic a hard smile and, when the waiter arrived, poured and passed out glasses of champagne. Then he raised his own, first to Sierra, then to Dominic.
“To my son,” he said, “and his new wife. May you share a long, long, long life together.”
If he’d said one more “long” Dominic would have throttled him. As it was, he noted there was no wish for happiness. He wondered if Sierra noticed.
Her eyes were laughing as she touched her glass to his. “And a happy one,” she said.
Their glasses clinked.
“Hear, hear!” cried Tommy Hargrove.
“We wish you great happiness,” Viveca said with etiquette book politeness. “Don’t we, Douglas?”
“Yes, of course,” Douglas said hastily. “Indeed we do.” He poured more champagne, then looked at his son. “Dominic, don’t you have a toast for your bride?”
Dominic raised his glass to the challenge, first to his father, then to his wife. “To Sierra,” he said gravely, “who has made me the happiest of men.”
He meant it as a slap at his father. As a bit of veiled sarcasm. But as he drank, Dominic realized that, in some small way, it was the truth.
For one steamy night three months ago, Sierra had made him happier than he’d ever been in his life.
She’d made him silly and hungry and passionate. She’d made him forget mergers and balance sheets and the rat race he called his life. She’d made him laugh and tease and wrestle and grow sweaty and desperate and, finally, fulfilled.
He hadn’t forgotten.
It was, after all, why he’d asked her to marry him. But he wasn’t fool enough to expect it to last.
Outside of bed, they had nothing in common. Inside it, for one night at least, they’d had bliss.
“To Sierra,” he said firmly. “My wife.”
They drank staring into each other’s eyes. Hers were no longer laughing, he noticed. They were shiny, as if they held tears. But that was ridiculous. Sierra never cried! She wasn’t the type. And she would certainly not get soppy about a marriage like theirs.
“I have a toast,” Tommy said suddenly.
Everyone turned to look at the snowy-haired old man as he raised his glass and looked at Dominic over the top of it. “This was a spur of the moment affair, I trust?”
Dominic stiffened, but Sierra laced her fingers through his and nodded. “Yes. Dominic swept me off my feet.”
“Ah.” Tommy beamed at her.
Douglas fixed Dominic with a glare. But Tommy didn’t notice. He was nodding enthusiastically. “Thought so.” He raised his glass higher. “Just like Bernice and I. Sometimes,” he said with a sweet sad smile, “the best things happen on the spur of the moment. Bernice—God rest her soul—and I knew each other only a week when we eloped.” His voice wavered a little and he paused to collect himself. Then, eyes brimming, he murmured, “Fifty-three years. We were married fifty-three years. The best fifty-three years any man could have.” His hand shook briefly, but then he drew a breath and it steadied.
Dominic had known Tommy Hargrove his whole life. He’d known Bernice who’d died last year. He supposed he’d never thought about them as young and impetuous. Tommy was a tough-as-nails old man. Bernice had been his dutiful wife—always there with a smile or a gentle laugh. Now Dominic remembered those smiles, remembered how often they’d been directed at Tommy. He looked at the old man with new and wondering eyes.
“To the surprises in life,” Tommy said with a smile. He touched each of their glasses.
“Thank you,” Sierra said to him. Then she turned to Dominic and clinked her glass against his. There was a stubborn tilt to her chin and a fierce gleam in those bright blue eyes.
“To us,” she said. “And the next fifty-three years.”
In high school Sierra had played Alice in Alice in Wonderland. She’d fallen down the rabbit hole, chatted with Humpty Dumpty, been spoken down to by a caterpillar, had tea with the Mad Hatter and the March Hare, and had been chased through the forest by a pack of cards while the red queen had screamed, “Off with her head!”
That all seemed downright normal compared to the dinner she’d just survived.
She sank into the back seat of the taxi, clutching her tackle box, and shut her eyes. She was dimly aware that Dominic had climbed in beside her and was speaking to the driver. As the car begin to move, she heard Dominic sigh as he settled back next to her. She kept her eyes shut and waited for him to speak. But he didn’t say a word.
Maybe he was as tired as she was.
Acting did that to her. Drained her. Left her limp and exhausted. Playing Alice back in high school had wrung her out.
This had been harder. Lots harder. That she’d rehearsed for. This had been complete improvisation. And while she thought she’d acquitted herself well enough, she was still exhausted. She just wanted to go home and go to bed.
She didn’t open her eyes until the taxi stopped.
“We’re here,” Dominic said.
Sierra hauled herself up and blinked as she looked around. Then she jerked upright and her eyes went wide. “Where? This isn’t my place!”
“Of course not. It’s mine.’ Dominic was handing the driver some money and opening the door. “Come on.”
But Sierra couldn’t. She stayed right where she was. “I’m not going to your place!”
Out of the car, he bent down to stare at her. “You’re not—Why not?” He looked white-faced and furious.
“Because I’m not! I never agreed to—”
“You agreed to marry me. You did marry me.” His voice was icy.
“I know, but—”
“Marriage implies cohabitation,” he reminded her. He was gritting his teeth.
“Not…not necessarily.” It was one thing to have mad passionate sex with Dominic. It was entirely another to get sucked up into his apartment, his world, his life! She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not getting out,” she told the taxi driver. “I need to go downtown.”
“The hell you do!” Dominic protested.
But Sierra ignored him and gave the driver her address.
“You can’t—!”
The driver flipped on the meter, then glanced at Dominic. “Mister, you gotta shut the door.”
“No. I don’t. She’s not—!”
“Yes, I am. Now. Drive,” Sierra commanded the driver. “Go on!”
“No!” Dominic resolutely held the door open, not moving an inch.
The driver looked from one to the other of them, annoyed. “I got a business here.”
“So take me—”
“No!”
“D’youse two suppose youse could maybe settle this somewhere else?” the taxi driver said plaintively.
“Yes,” Dominic said.
“No,” Sierra said.
Their gazes locked. They glared.