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“I do believe he did,” Darr
en said with a sudden Southern twang in his voice. “Perhaps he’s gone soft since Dad died.”
For the first time since she and Dominic met, Waverly heard something about Dominic’s father. She’d assumed he left or died when he was younger and he didn’t want to talk about it. Either way, Waverly wasn’t prepared for what Dario added. “You’ve changed, old man.” Dario punched Dominic hard in the arm and Waverly felt the vibration.
“Wait, what?” Waverly did a double take.
Dominic’s jawline twitched. “Waverly, I...”
“Your father died?” She stepped in front of Dominic and placed her hands on her hips.
“Sure,” Darren graciously provided, “the old man hung on for three months, but he finally kicked the bucket. Gave us a thankful Thanksgiving.”
At a loss for words, Waverly stood in front of Dominic, shaking her head.
“Babe, let me explain.”
Her heart ached and her eyes prickled with tears. “You’ve been holding that in all this time? Why didn’t you say anything?” Instead of the anger she felt a moment ago, Waverly felt sorry for Dominic. He’d been so strong, her rock. He probably was the same for Alisha and their brothers. No one ever stopped to ask him how he was doing. Waverly stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around Dominic’s shoulders. He leaned over and nuzzled her neck. “I’m so sorry,” Waverly said before pressing a kiss to the side of Dominic’s face. She didn’t let go of him until a feminine voice echoed down the breezeway.
“Well, what on earth have I walked in on?”
Waverly stepped aside and groaned inwardly. “Ma, what are you doing here?”
Jillian Leverve, in her fifties, didn’t look a day older than forty. She never had a strand of her brown hair out of place. Today her mother stood at the end of the corridor, pulling her red leather gloves off her hands one finger at a time. By the time she reached Waverly and Dominic, Waverly was sure her mother would smack Dominic with her glove and challenge him to a duel. Instead, Jillian’s eyes cut down Dominic’s attire and assessed him immediately.
“Jesus, Waverly, another bad boy?”
Dominic pressed his hand to the small of Waverly’s back and a kiss against her ear. “One of these days you’re going to tell me about all these bad boys,” he whispered and then turned on the charm toward her mother. “Mrs. Leverve, pleasure to meet you. Dominic Crowne.”
Jillian stared at Dominic’s outstretched hand. Waverly willed her mother to take it. Finally Jillian accepted the welcoming gesture. “You’re not at all what I expected after reading the article in Forbes, Mr. Crowne. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My husband is a fan.”
Waverly wanted to breathe a sigh of relief but couldn’t. This meant her father would approve, since he rarely was in favor of Waverly’s involvement in the pageant world. So her father approved and that was okay, Waverly guessed. What was worse, her mother hating your boyfriend or actually admiring him? Where was the mother she knew who hated every boyfriend of hers if he came from the wrong side of the tracks? Where was her mother who didn’t think anyone, no matter their financial status, was good enough for her daughter?
“It’s always nice to meet a fan,” said Dominic.
Jillian pulled her hand away and wiped her palm on her hips. “Well, I said my husband is a fan, not me.”
Ah, Waverly sighed, there was her mother.
* * *
By the following weekend Waverly had finally talked her mother into staying at the Magnolia Palace. Despite being separated from her for the last six months, Waverly still needed the extra distance. According to Jillian, the condo was not fit for a queen. There were not enough personal decorations on the walls, no shrine dedicated to Waverly’s pageant journey on the wall. What made things worse was that, with her mother staying at her apartment, Dominic couldn’t come over as usual.
“She’s driving me nuts,” Waverly complained. She turned the ringer off on her cell phone, then nestled into the crook of Dominic’s waiting arms. “I get that this condo isn’t ‘mine,’” she said, using air quotes, “but she doesn’t have to trash everything.”
“She cares,” Dominic assured her.
Thankfully Dominic understood, or at least he didn’t say anything about the digs Jillian had made toward him during the week. After the cookie contest, Dominic took his brothers, Waverly and her mother out to eat at Valencia’s, the restaurant around the corner from Grits and Glam Studios. Jillian acted aloof to the 1969 Rolls-Royce Phantom VI. So what if it was the car of many royal families? Jillian found something wrong. She didn’t like Valencia because it was too crowded, despite it recently surpassing Duvernay’s in popularity. And even with Dominic dressed in two-thousand-dollar suits, Jillian questioned his tattoos.
“She just cares about me having what she considers the best of everything,” Waverly argued, then lifted her head on the pillow. Dominic’s after-five shadow bristled against her forehead.
“I have the best right here.” Dominic secured his arm under her neck and tilted her toward him for a kiss.
Waverly’s heart swelled. She lifted her head. “You’re too sweet. I love you, you know that, right?”
Dominic shifted and faced her. The words just flew out of her mouth without her thinking. But she did love him. Now she had to wait for him to tell her, “No, thanks.” In the span of seconds, Waverly’s mind wandered. Did she speak too soon? A lump lodged in her throat. Her insides screamed and fingers shook. Blood pounded between her ears. For a moment tears welled in her eyes with nervous anticipation. She wanted to kick herself.
“I love you, too, Waverly,” Dominic answered after ten seconds of torture. Her body weakened with relief. “I don’t like the fact I gotta wait so long to do some inappropriate things to you in public...”
