Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 501

Dominic's mouth curved. "Yes, Mom."

"That is better." My mother nodded, satisfied. "Now here are my rules. Take care of her. When she is tired, let her rest. When she is hungry, feed her. When she talks about her work, listen, even if you do not understand a word of it, because that work is the thing that kept her standing when everything else tried to knock her down.

Never hurt her. Never make her cry. And always, always protect her and keep her happy. She has spent too much of her life carrying silent burdens. I want you to carry hers for a while. Do you think you can do that?"

Dominic took my hand in both of his. He did not look at me. He looked at my mother, and his voice came out rough at the edges. "Mrs. Adams. Mom. I have loved a lot of things in my life. I have loved money and deals and the sound of my own name in a boardroom. But I have never loved anything the way I love your daughter.

She is the most important person in my life. She is the reason I get up in the morning and the last thing I think about before I sleep. For as long as I live, Celeste comes first. Before my work, before my name, before everything. If she is tired, I will carry her. If she is hungry, I will feed her. If the whole world turns against her, I will stand between her and all of it, and I will never, ever make her cry. You have my word."

My mother was very still for a long moment. Then her chin wobbled, and she threw her arms around Dominic, who looked genuinely alarmed for half a second before he hugged her back.

"Good," she said into his shoulder, her voice thick. "Good. You will do. You will more than do. I bless your union with everything I have, my boy. And I know, I know in my heart, that her father would have approved of this too, if he was still with us. He would have liked you. He would have liked you very much."

Dominic laughed into his bowl, and I threw a piece of bread at my mother, and she caught it one-handed and ate it, triumphant.

When the dishes were done and the table cleared, my mother sat back down and grew quiet, and I felt the shape of the evening change before she said a word. She looked at my ring, then at my face, and she asked, very gently, "Celeste. Will you be inviting your brother to the engagement party?"

I should have seen it coming. I had known she would ask, had known it the moment I decided to come here tonight, and still the question landed in my chest like a stone. I thought of the day my own brother had tried to frame me for his own crimes. My mother did not know any of it. I had made sure of that. She had suffered enough and I was not going to lay it at her feet.