Page 64 of Until Now
Maxen
Two years later
I remove the ring from my pocket for one more look. God, here we are. Finally. Thankfully. In a lifetime of decisions, this is my best one. By far. When I met Dominique, I met my real self. Returning to Tennessee, becoming part of Mayson Construction, and having a family are all things I never saw coming. Sometimes a man’s greatest blessings come out of thin air, falling like gentle rain from heaven.
It’s exciting to know it’s happening tonight. The butterflies in my stomach will not be still. And I’m second-guessing myself. But overall, I think she’s going to be happy with how it goes down.Please, God.
I’m counting on Dominique’s fierce competitiveness. Many times we’ve been neck and neck, down to the wire, competing against each other. Scrabble, Monopoly, Pictionary, or Poker, take your pick. There is no doubt when she’s in the game, it’s going to be a war.
It’s one of the things I learned as we got to really know each other. These past couple of years have schooled me on many things, both serious and fun. Playing is as important to the woman as work. When games are involved, my soft, sweet, feminine Dominique turns into Roseanne Barr on steroids. I’ll use that to my advantage tonight.
If I have planned things right, she’ll walk right into the trap. She’ll participate in it and be the loudest voice. There were many pieces to this puzzle and people to recruit. I wanted our families to be part of the special night. Choosing to do it on Christmas Eve worked for lots of reasons.
First off, it won’t look suspicious that our families are together. In some form anyway. Mom and Dad, and Dominique’s parents, and her sister, Sabine, will represent via Zoom. That is if the technology gods work with me. But it’s for sure the weak link in my plan.
My brothers John and Evan, and Dominique’s brother Lucien, traveled here under the guise of the holiday. Kim and Hunter are here too. Christmas hides all our secrets. With all these players, I cross fingers there’s no glitches. July, Wes, their children. Asher and November. We are fourteen in all, not counting Baby Becca or the Zoom audience. Leaving McFly and Cali out of the mix is not acceptable. Bing was the one who thought of including them in our scheme.
I decided to stage it here so she would be distracted. Preparing for our celebration has taken almost all her attention for weeks. But I’m afraid. She has that “thing,” that woman’s intuition. There is a good chance I could be busted by my expressions alone.
“Bing! Where’s your mother?” I say in a hushed tone.
He eyes me at his bedroom door.
“Downstairs with your brothers. Wes and July just got here too,” he says.
Over the last year, his voice has settled into this new lower range.
“Yeah, I hear the kids.”
He tucks in the new shirt and turns to show me the whole look.
“Looks good. How about me?” I ask, opening my arms.
A crooked smile appears. Sixteen looks good on Bing. I see the man about to emerge.
“You look good. Nervous?”
I’ve been that way all week, as tonight got closer.
“I’m okay. Maybe a little,” I say, underplaying my panic.
But Bing knows me by now. We have become close. Closer than either of us thought possible in just two years. We talk about it every now and then, both acknowledging the twist in our lives. It helped that he has practically no memories of his father. It helped that the relationship between his mother and me is based on mutual respect. But most of all, it’s because of what he and I feel toward each other. It’s genuine and solid.
I’m not Bing’s father. Never will be in the usual sense. But the place I take is fatherly. I’ll always protect and support him. We have each other’s back. Far more than a friend, our relationship is rooted in love—me for him, him for me. Our mutual love for Dominique has created an unbreakable bond. It’s impressive.
“Did you get the dog’s sweaters ready? Are they hidden somewhere your mother can’t find them?”
“They’re in the bottom drawer in the office. She’s not going there.”
“Good thinking. Let’s go down and get this party started.”
As he passes in front of me and heads for the stairs, he turns and says in low tones, “Good luck.”
* * *
Our holiday table looks like a snapshot of Christmas circa anytime anywhere in America. The dinner is cleared, and only dessert plates, with remnants of apple pie made from scratch, remain. We are a holiday crew, made of happy faces, good conversations, and children eager to get to more fun.
Hopefully, July has followed my instructions to make sure the kids don’t spill the beans.
