Page 31 of Vows in Name Only
She couldn’t begin to grasp why Cain had done this for her but love surely hadn’t been the motivation. Right now, though, with her aunts, uncles and cousins noisily gathering around her, she didn’t care.
“Have you met Cain yet?” she asked. Twisting at the waist, she stretched her arm toward him, palm up. His gaze settled on hers, and she caught the flicker of emotion that appeared then disappeared before she could decipher it. Still, he strode forward, enclosing her hand in his and stepping to her side. “Everyone, this is Cain Farrell, my fiancé and the person who made all this possible.” She squeezed his fingers. “Cain, this is...everyone.” She laughed, so much joy inside her, it seemed impossible that her body contained it.
Cain greeted her relatives, and never having met a stranger, they pulled him into the fold without reservation or hesitation—which included hugging him, slapping him on the back, grilling him about his sports allegiances and asking if he had any bachelor friends. This from Zia Stella, who had three daughters. Devon chuckled, enjoying Cain’s faintly overwhelmed expression.
No, she didn’t understand why he’d gone through all the trouble for tonight.
But he’d given her the best gift.
Family.
Eleven
“Ican’t thank you enough,” Devon said to Cain...again. For probably the fifteenth time.
And she would say it fifteen more.
Even though her relatives had left five minutes ago, after a boisterous and prolonged goodbye with promises to get together tomorrow morning before they left for New Jersey, Cain’s house still seemed to ring with their voices. “I’ll never forget this night. I—” She shook her head, and once more, murmured, “Thank you.”
Cain nodded. “You’re welcome, Devon.” He studied her for a moment, his blue-gray eyes shuttered yet intense. “Would you like a drink? Or I can take you home now.”
That invitation shouldn’t sound like an offer to sin. Issued from Cain, it most likely wasn’t. But that knowledge didn’t prevent a hot pulse of desire from playing slip ’n’ slide through her veins. It was late; if she possessed an iota of intelligence and self-preservation, she would decline the nightcap and head home. But enough wine had flowed this evening and she still rode high on the delight of being with her family. Both were enough to justify any unwise decisions she made tonight. Besides, it was a drink. She could handle one drink without committing any acts she would regret in the morning.
“Do you have any more of the wine from dinner? The Moscato?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said, striding out of the foyer.
She followed him to a smaller, more intimate room than the one they’d been gathered in for most of the evening. A couple of couches, a cozy sitting area with chairs and a low table, a huge fireplace with a stone mantel, and a built-in bar occupied the space. Choosing one of the large armchairs in front of the low-burning flames, she sank down into it as Cain approached her with a wineglass. He lowered to the matching chair across from her, and for the next several moments, they sipped in silence, the muted crackle of wood the only sound.
“You weren’t exaggerating when you said you came from a big, loud family,” Cain said, peering at her over the rim of his tumbler.
She laughed. “And honestly, I think they went easy on you because they didn’t want to scare you off before we get married.”
As soon as the words exited her mouth, she mentally winced.Before we get marriedseemed to echo in the room over and over, ratcheting up in volume. God, she hadn’t meant to say that. Especially since she still hadn’t given up on finding a way out for both of them. How she would accomplish that feat? No clue. She stared down into the depths of her glass as if it held the solution.
“No one mentioned your father. They didn’t appear to find it strange that he wasn’t there,” he added, his scrutiny fixed on her.
Another land mine of a subject.I don’t want to talk about him. Not here and now, she silently yelled. But Cain had brought up her father, and after all he’d done for her, she couldn’tnotreply.
“I’m not surprised,” she admitted softly, shifting her gaze to the fireplace so he couldn’t glimpse her shame. “At one time, we were all very close. Even given our family’s size, we still managed to be tight. Holidays, birthdays, communions, graduations, hell just because—we spent our days together. The locations might change, but not the people. We were especially close to Uncle Marco and Aunt Angela, my mother’s older sister, since they and their family lived on the other side of us in our duplex. But that changed after Mom died. Everything changed,” she whispered.
Taking a fortifying drink, she inhaled a deep breath and continued, “I lost Mom, and I lost Dad, too. He used to be such a jokester as well as protective and loving. I couldn’t have asked for a better father, a more caring father. But after she died, he became angry, stern and work obsessed. It’s like he transferred all the love and grief into building his business. Now I think he worked so hard so he could divorce himself from the life he’d shared with Mom. If he couldn’t have her then he would erect an existence that was dramatically different from the one he’d shared with her. He accomplished what he set out to do.”
Underneath her joy tonight had lurked a bittersweet sadness. For the memories. For all she’d lost. For the distance she’d allowed to spring between her and her relatives out of a misplaced loyalty to her father. He’d essentially forced her to choose; she’d chosen her remaining living parent.
“The more successful Dad’s business became, the more he distanced himself from our family. First, it was moving out of the duplex. Then out of Plainfield. Then out of New Jersey. He cut them out of his life as efficiently and effectively as slicing off a limb. They no longer fit who Gregory Cole had shaped himself into, didn’t fit into the world he’d created.”
“What about you? He decided to purge his life of them, why did you have to?” Cain demanded, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his thighs, cupping the squat glass in his strong hands. She focused on those hands so she wouldn’t catch the condemnation in his eyes.
“I didn’t have to,” she said, guilt and embarrassment thickening her voice. “Dad only had me. Mom died and he no longer had his brothers, sisters or in-laws, even though, yes, that was by his own decision. It was just us. And...” She swallowed hard, battling the conditioned response to defend her father even when he was indefensible. Inhaling a shuddering breath, she shoved the truth past her suddenly constricted throat. “And I promised my mother on her deathbed that I would look after my dad. And that included not abandoning him even though he’d abandoned his family.”
Abandoned me.
“I didn’t know your mother, but from how your aunts and uncles spoke about her at dinner, I feel like I’m more familiar with her than I was before tonight. A woman who loved to cook huge meals, so she feeds everyone... A woman whose heart and joy were her child and husband and providing a haven for them... A woman who has been gone for over fifteen years, but who her family still remembers with love and reverence... That woman wouldn’t have wanted her daughter to not know the safety and happiness of family. And she didn’t intend for you to carry the burden of your father’s decisions or make them your own. No child—whether two or eighty-two—should be placed in that ugly and unfair position.”
She stared at him, trembling. An automatic objection to his assurance swelled in her but desperation silenced it. Desperation to grab on to those words and absorb them as truth. Desperation to be freed by them.
Closing her eyes, she willed the stinging to recede. Her fingers tightened around the wineglass, and afraid of shattering it in her grip, she set it on the low table between their chairs.
