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“This was really great, Lark. I like seeing my brother so happy. He told me he's going to Columbia next year. I'm happy for both of you.”
Studying Dominic, I noticed tension creep into his expression and the hard set of his jaw.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
“I just want you to watch your backs, because I don't think you've heard the last from my parents. Besides being snobs, they are also vindictive.”
My heart lodged into my throat in response to his warning. What had I done? Dom clearly had no trouble reading my thoughts, “I don't want to scare you, but I don't want you to be blindsided either. My parents are nothing if not predictable.”
“Their interest in Bastian's future isn't really about Bastian, is it?”
“No. They never paid him any attention when he was younger, but now it's all about money and more than the money, image. Both sons refuse to follow in their old man's footsteps. What will people think?”
“Working for your father isn't what Bastian wants to do with his life, either.”
“It doesn't matter to my parents. They never bothered to get to know their son, so they think if they apply just the right amount of pressure, they can bend him to their will.”
“He won't bend.”
“Not willingly. They'll come at you, because to them you are the reason Bastian isn't falling in with their wishes.”
Ominous and exactly what I feared.
“I've never seen my brother so happy and I think he makes you just as happy. Remember that, and remember that my parents only have power if you give it to them.”
“Thanks, Dom.” I watched as he joined Bastian and I was thankful for his words of warning, but I couldn't help the overwhelming belief that his parents held power whether I gave it to them or not.
Later in the night after everyone went home, Bastian and I sat in Alfonso's after we broke down the party.
“This was the best birthday that I've ever had.” Tenderness rang in his voice.
“I still have to give you your present.”
“I thought the party was the present.”
“Only part of the present,” I said.
“You didn't have to get me anything, Lark.”
“I know.” Resting against the back wall was a large rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper. Retrieving it, I offered it to him. “Happy birthday.”
“You really didn't need to do this.”
“I know, but you must admit it's fun to have something to open.”
He grinned. “Ab so-fuckin'-lutely.”
He unwrapped the package to reveal my painting, Mainstream, which I had had framed. He stared at it for so long I worried that maybe I had been wrong about his reaction to the painting that day in the art room. I tried to explain the reasoning behind the gift.
“I thought it could be another visual reminder for you to hold fast to your dreams.”
He moved so fast, lifting from his chair and pulling me into his arms. He buried his face in my hair.
He didn't say anything at first, seemingly lost in his thoughts, but then his head lifted and our gazes lock. The rawness of his voice spoke to the emotions burning through him. “I've never been given anything so incredible.”
“It fits you,” I said.
He touched a lock of my hair and a grin tugged at his mouth, “A little bird told me your birthday is coming up. November 7th, right?”
