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Needless to say, I barely slept a wink and neither had my sister, trying to deliver back the keys to me undetected.
We decided to meet up at Marnie’s Shack for an early bird breakfast.
Dacia reclined into the cracked vinyl seating of our booth. Her almond milk latte sat untouched on the coaster while she stared out the window, a pensive look sketching her features. “Be honest with me, Dar. Are you okay over there?”
I pocketed the keys into my purse. “I mean, I’ve been married for forty-eight hours and so far it’s been smooth sailing.”
Besides the fact that I hadn’t seen my husband since last evening’s dinner, I was peachy. I may or may not have missed his embrace this morning. My body temperature ran on the colder side and he was a furnace with an endless supply of heat.
“I have this constant fear that something will happen to you and I won’t be there to help.”
“Dai,” I lilted. “I can handle myself, don’t worry. Plus, I have so much armed security, nobody will ever harm a piece of hair on my head.”
“Mother is worried.” My sister cleared her throat and finally picked at her croissant. “She hasn’t said anything, but I feel it in the way she’s been brooding around the house.”
Our last altercation left a dent in Diane Hill’s massive ego. She’d yet to bounce back from my blow, which was evident during my wedding reception.
Not once did she comment on my appearance.
Nor did she give a speech to at least save face in front of our audience.
She was too prideful and I was past caring.
If she wanted to ask how I was doing, she could send a text.
“She’ll get over it, Dacia. I took her favourite toy—me—away and now she’s sulking. Mother needs to grow up. I’m done holding her hand.”
Dacia scoffed and ripped her croissant in two with an angry flare. She stuffed one end into her mouth. “Now that you’re gone, she’ll try to mold me into her project.”
“That’ll never happen. She can’t control you.”
Dacia smirked. “Exactly.”
“Maybe that’s why she always respected you more than me.”
My sister’s face fell.
“It’s true, and you know it.”
Dacia wiped her hands on a napkin and leaned forward on the table, speaking in a low voice, “And you want to know why she ‘respected’ me more? Because I saidfuck youto her and stood up for myself from a young age. I stopped seeking her validation when I realized my worth and I stopped caring about her judgement when I figured Mother was far from perfect. You, on the other hand, tried so hard your whole life to get her to accept you, without realizing that you and I will never fit into her mold. It is impossible. It took you twenty-seven years to comprehend that all the acceptance you’ve needed your whole life has been right under your nose. With your friends. With Alberto. With me. Withyou.” She reached forward to cup my shoulder. “Darla, all the love you’ve ever needed lies right here, with us and in this big heart of yours. Please know that you are worth more than what Mother has led you to believe.”
I pressed my hand to hers with a frail smile. “I know that now.”
Emotional displays of affection grossed Dacia out, so she took her hand away after a few seconds. I was thankful for her words, though. They drove home what I already knew.
I was worthy in every way that mattered.
“Now that we’ve taken care of your key situation, we need to talk about another serious matter.” Her game face slipped into place like she was about to deliver an opening statement for a case.
“Shoot.”
“Remember Zeno’s friend from the wedding—Romero St. Clair?”
I had a vague recollection of a very handsome man in Zeno’s groom’s party. Tall, built like a football player, a bit stoic. Probably a criminal just like everyone present that night. “Yes, why?”
I lifted my latte to my lips.
“Well, I fucked him.”
