“Don’t forget the clothes on the floor,” Sienna chimes in.
Mallory’s tears drip to Graham’s shirt, her hand trembling as she watches him.
“I never thought I’d be able to handle having a life that wasn’t in my control,” he continues, his voice starting to crack. “But when I look at my life now and imagine it going back to the way it was—organized and clean—I hate it. Because that means you’d be gone.”
“Graham . . .” she whispers.
“Mallory, will you please do me the honor of being my life?”
“Your life?” she asks, her voice trembling.
“My life. My wife. All of it. Will you?”
“Yes,” she says, full-on sobbing. She tries to get down to hug him, but ends up falling ungracefully onto his chest. He holds her to him, whispering things only they can hear in her ear.
My tears stream just as hard as Mallory’s. Where her heart is full, mine is so achingly empty.
Sienna puts her arm around me and the contact kills me. I can’t take it anymore. I bury my face in her shoulder and let the tears fall. If I could get up and go to the bathroom without everyone seeing my face, I would. But it’s too late.
Barrett stands and puts his arm around Mallory. “You’re crazy for putting up with him, Mal, but we love having you in the family. You temper him a little. We’re all thankful. Especially Lincoln. Congratulations!”
Everyone descends on the newly engaged couple as they get to their feet, trading hugs and congratulations. Mallory can’t stop crying long enough to say anything and she won’t let go of Graham’s arm. He doesn’t seem to mind. He’s beaming like the little kid that found the golden egg at Easter.
“Excuse me, Mr. Landry,” Troy says from the doorway, his voice only barely heard over the roar of the celebration. Everyone settles and looks at Barrett’s right-hand man.
“Since when do you call me Mr. Landry?” Barrett asks. “You want a raise or what?”
Troy laughs. “I’m talking to Mr. Landry. Harris.”
“What can I do for you, Troy?” Dad asks.
“There’s a visitor here that’s not on the gate list. He says he’s here to see you.”
“What’s his name?”
“Dominic Hughes.”
I gasp. Everyone looks at me as I sit with eyes the size of saucers, looking at Troy. “Did you say Dominic Hughes?”
“Yes.”
Dad’s eyes flip to me and then back to Troy. “Let him in, please.”
“He’s here?” I ask Sienna. My heart flips, my stomach rolling, my hopes spiraling way too high to be safe. “Why is he asking for Dad?”
“I don’t know,” she tells me. “Guess we’ll see soon enough.”
My attention fixes on the doorway. Everyone settles down, some refilling their drinks, until Troy comes back in. “Mr. Hughes is here.”
My breath is held hostage in my chest as I wait for Dom to come into view. When he does, I just cry.
He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a light blue shirt that matches his eyes. He has the sleeves rolled up because he hates them cinched around his wrists. The top two buttons are undone on the collar as well for the same reason.
His eyes survey the scene in front of him. I can’t imagine what he thinks of us all. He seems a little overwhelmed and a lot nervous as he tucks his hands in his pockets.
Finally, his sight sets on me. A lump spontaneously appears in my throat, my eyes blurry again, as Sienna takes my hand and squeezes it.
“Mr. Landry,” Dominic says, walking across the room and extending a hand to my father. “I’m Dominic Hughes.”