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Now I’m just picking at my green beans, attempting to come up with something more engaging to talk about.
“Is there something wrong with the food?” Roxanne eyes me as she sips from her wineglass, her eyebrow raised knowingly.
“No, the food is fine,” I sigh. Leaning closer to her, I add in a lower voice, “I was just hoping to talk more to Uncle Dom, and he doesn’t seem interested in what I have to say.”
Roxanne observes Dom on my right for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, this is usually his chance to catch up with the concerns of the household with less… formality. Even though they work for him, he wants to make sure everyone here feels important.”
“So, when do I get the chance? He’s barely spoken a dozen words to me since the first night I arrived.” I know I sound pouty, but I can’t help it.
Roxanne’s dark eyes reflect the flickering candlelight from the table decor. “Dominic usually spends a few hours in the library on Sunday nights. Perhaps, after dinner, that would be a good place for you to talk. Maybe you can get to know each other better.”
I accept her suggestion with a nod and return my focus to my food.
This may be my first strike, but even in baseball, I’d have two more to go.
And now I have all the time in the world to get answers.
* * *
Layla
* * *
After dinner, I return to my room and change into sweats before making my way to the library. I shouldn’t be surprised, but there’s already a roaring fire going, with a decanter, glass, and bucket of ice on a tray positioned on the coffee table.
Oh yeah, Dom definitely has a routine.
Figuring he has a favorite spot as designated by the refreshments, I choose a random book and settle into a chair that’s tucked in a cozy nook. There’s a partial shelf of books between me and the rest of the room, and my chair faces the window with a view over the dark gardens behind the house. I settle back into the chair, tug a fuzzy throw blanket over my lap, and crack open my book. I’m determined to wait as long as it takes for him to show.
It turns out the crime thriller I picked up is actually engrossing, and it takes a while before I realize I’m no longer alone in the room.
I sense something, and when I glance up, he’s standing with his back to me, one hand on the mantle of the fireplace, and the other supporting his forehead. I set the book in my lap and prepare to speak, but something stops me and I take a moment to observe him instead.
He’s pulled a heavy cardigan over the shirt and dress pants he wore at dinner, and seeing him in this moment feels… obtrusive. Like this is a peek behind the curtain, something I’m not supposed to see, something no one is supposed to see. His very aura feels tired, like the weight of the world is dragging him down.
Suddenly self-conscious, I’m not sure if I should announce myself or just shrink back in my chair and hope he doesn’t notice me. But Roxanne told me he’d be here, that it would be a good time for us to talk, so it can’t be wrong for me to intrude.
While my mind flits back and forth between resolving to hide out for a while or announcing myself and demanding his attention, fate intervenes on my behalf.
The book slips from my lap and lands on the hardwood floor with a slap.
My uncle doesn’t jump. Instead, he whips around and crouches slightly, a silvery glow of reflected light in his eyes as they scan my corner.
“Sorry.” I stand and retrieve the book. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just reading.”
Straightening immediately, an indulgent smile crosses his face. “It’s not a problem, Layla. Why don’t you come join me by the fire? The light’s better here, and it’s a good deal warmer.”
My window nook is actually chilly, and it seems I might get the opportunity I hoped for. Heart leaping, I replace the blanket on the chair and move to a spot on the couch.
“Actually, I was hoping to have time to talk to you,” I start cautiously. “Roxanne said you usually give the staff your attention during dinner, but you’d be here after.”
Uncle Dom chuckles and takes a seat. “She did, huh? It’s true, I suppose. I’m sure you’ve seen by now I get little time to myself. There are a lot of duties that I… as mayor… have to attend to. Way more than I realized before I had the job,” he adds with a snort. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for you at all. I’m sorry we haven’t had much time to speak.”
“That’s okay, I understand. It does seem to keep you pretty busy.”
“It does,” he agrees.
“Are you going to run again?”
