Page 117 of Done with You

Her mouth split into a grin and that golden sparkle to her warm brown eyes returned. “Thanks, Big Lassie.”

A door creaked open and Oona emerged, yawning. She was in her black tank top and flannel pajama pants. “’Morning,” he greeted her.

She smiled at him, her eyes taking him in, watching him with a keen interest that made his belly get warm. “Good morning.”

“Eggs bennie on crab cakes. Two?” he asked.

Her stomach rumbled loud enough that even Rayma’s brows shot up. “Yes, please.” Then she sidled up to the barstool beside Rayma, wrapped her arm around her sister and leaned her head on Rayma’s shoulder. “How’re you doing this morning, kiddo?”

“Well,” Rayma said with a sigh, reaching for her coffee and taking the first sip, “I’m getting married today. And thanks to Big Lassie here, I have an empty box of fucks left to give about Mom and Dad, so I think I’m good to go.”

Aiden turned around from where he stood at the stove preparing the eggs for poaching. Rayma was beaming, and Oona was giving him some serious fuck-me eyes.

He turned back around to his boiling water, a stupidly big smile on his face.

Today was going to be a great day.

He could just feel it.

Oona’s door had been open a crack when Aiden and Rayma started talking in the kitchen. And as much as she knew she shouldn’t, it was impossible not to eavesdrop.

And holy fucking shit.

Aiden was incredible.

He said all the same things that Jordan and Oona had said the day before, but yet, coming from him they seemed to resonate with Rayma. Or maybe it was that Rayma had slept on things and was in better spirits. Regardless, his pep-talk worked.

He’d also confided in Rayma about his own trauma and that he was working on things.

He was growing. Evolving, and starting to do the work to get better.

During one of their many heart-to-hearts over the week, Rayma told Oona about the brothers’ trauma from when they were younger. About their father hitting the kid and Jordan reporting it to the police. It made a lot more sense to Oona now, why Aiden didn’t drink and why he was so black and white when it came to people driving impaired.

But given the fact that he misjudged that man the night before and assumed he was drinking when he’d had a stroke, most definitely added a few shades of gray to his way of thinking. Yes, driving while impaired is bad. But not all people who drive impaired are bad. Not all people who drive recklessly are impaired. Each and every circumstance needs to be addressed for its uniqueness and not painted with the same brush.

Aiden and Jordan were going to stay at the apartment and get ready there with Jace, while the bridal party and Oona and Rayma’s parents all went to Pasha’s.

Heath had come by earlier that day in his big truck with the studs on the tires and dualies on the back, to grab the food, and Oona and Rayma, and bring everything back to his house.

The way Heath fawned over Rayma like she was his baby sister was adorable. Oona knew the two of them had a special relationship, so it was fitting that he was the one she chose to walk her down the aisle.

They were all in Pasha and Heath’s enormous loft-style bedroom on the top floor of the house with it’s peaked ceiling, sitting area and gigantic bathroom with a tub that fit both of them—apparently it was custom made because Heath was a giant—and a huge walk-in shower.

The bridal party was dressed in their floor-length forest-green dresses and white faux-fur shawls, while they took turns doing each other’s makeup and hair, since the hair and makeup people ended up canceling, too.

There was champagne and snacks and Joy fussed over everyone like a mother hen checking if they needed anything ironed, sewed, glued or taped.

Oona was in the vanity chair while Mieka did her makeup when the bedroom door opened and their mother walked in. She was dressed in a plain, dark gray shift dress with a matching bolero-style coat over-top. The dress fell to her knees and she had black stockings on underneath and plain black shoes. She looked like she could be heading to church, a funeral or the office, but not really a wedding.

Yanna Young also didn’t believe in jewelry, besides her wedding band, so of course, she had nothing on her ears or around her neck.

Their mother cast her gaze around the room on everyone and as if drawn by magnets, she zeroed in on the tattoo on Pasha’s shoulder. The grayscale one she’d had forever of her dearly departed pet rabbit Marigold. It was a beautiful tattoo and Marigold had been a lovely little companion for Pasha during her college years. The tattoo was a perfect tribute.

“Pasha Young!” their mother exclaimed, stalking over to Oona’s oldest sister who was in the middle of curling Rayma’s hair. “What on earth is this?” She jabbed a finger into the middle of Pasha’s tattoo hard enough that Pasha winced.

“It’s a tattoo, Mom,” Rayma said, boredom in her voice.

“I’m not speaking to you,” their mother snapped. “I’m speaking to Pasha.”

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