45. The Family Line

Dom

For the whole two-hour drive to Darley, Leonie had fidgeted. Her eyes had roved the countryside we passed. We had stopped three times to fill up her water bottle and get some snacks. I had never seen her drink so much, but if she wasn’t drinking, she was fiddling with the bottle cap.

Getting ready at my apartment, she listened to the playlist we had made without singing along. She trembled as she pulled out the dress she was going to wear. A sleek, satin black mini-dress with a square neck.

The second it was on her, I was ready to take it off.

Ready to show her off as mine.

She continued to fidget, asking me how she looked over and over.

In the taxi, she rested her head on my shoulder but was uncommonly quiet.

“Talk to me, little lion,” I said, placing my hand on her thigh.

“What if this doesn’t work?” she cried, eyes wide with panic.

My hand on top of hers went clammy. She hadn’t said she loved me back yet. Her demeanour said she did, but her fears were very real and as much as I didn’t want her to fear anything, I understood.

“You’re having doubts?” I asked, pretending my focus was on the road.

“Not about you,” she blurted, turning in her seat to face me. “And not about people knowing. Just… just Issy knowing.”

“So we’ll tell her last,” I said with a shrug. “Mum and Dad will back us up.”

“Your mum might not,” she grumbled. “She always takes Issy’s side.”

“Not true,” I disagreed. “She loves you.”

We were driving along the coast, down the high street. Being a Saturday night, it was packed with people crossing to bars along the beach.

“And I told you Dad has known I’ve loved you since I was eighteen,” I said, the words coming easily from my lips.

She moved her hand atop mine, threading our fingers together.

“Do you really think he kept that a secret from my mum for ten years?”

I knew he hadn’t, simply by the way Mum was so happy to see us being friends again on Issy’s birthday.

“Probably not,” she mumbled.

“As much as you don’t want to tell them, they already know. They’ve probably known longer than we have.”

“Known what?”

“That we’re going to be together.”

Her fingers squeezed mine and she lifted a knee to her chest, watching the people go past.

“I have some questions for you,” I declared as our driver pulled up at the bottom steps of the art gallery.

“Ask them,” she said, that cautious gaze flickering to me.

“It’s a quick-thinking round. I want your immediate response.”

She nodded, approving of the game.

“What dog breed are we getting?” I asked as I passed the driver his money.

“A rescue that can live with a cat, obviously.”

I chuckled as I got out of the car and offered her my hand. “Where are we going on holiday?”

“Algarve.”

“Nah, shark attacks.”

She frowned and accepted my grip, shuffling down her skirt with her other hand. “That was months ago. Are you actually that scared of them?”

“Of course,” I said. “It’s the combination of drowning and getting eaten alive for me.”

“So sharks and frogs,” she mused as we walked towards the towering steps. “Interesting.”

“Where else are we going on holiday?”

“South Africa,” she said with confidence. “I’ve never been.”

“Sorted. Why haven’t you spent your inheritance?”

She stopped and glanced up at me, alarmed and stuttered. “You—you can’t ask that.”

“I have.”

“I just haven’t spent it,” she said. “When I went to rehab, I told your dad I didn’t want him to let me access it until I was… better.”

I brushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear. “You are better.”

“Yeah,” she said and looked down at her heeled feet. “But I… I’m fine without it.”

That would have to do for now. She wasn’t completely open with me yet, but she would be eventually.

“Next question,” I said as we started to ascend the steps. “How do you feel about joining the Belov family’s way of life again?”

She bit her lip in thought before I started rolling a finger for her to hurry. “I don’t… I’m ready. I don’t regret leaving, but… the lecturing isn’t working out how I’d hoped. I miss the adventure. I miss the power. Sometimes, I think about my dad and…” She looked down at her footsteps. “Would he be proud of me for leaving everything he’d worked so hard for? The family line?”

“He would always be proud of you.”

She sighed and looked up. “That answers your earlier question. It’s why I haven’t taken the inheritance. I don’t deserve it if I’m not living up to his legacy.”

I interlocked our fingers. “You don’t think you deserve it after what you went through? Leo, business aside, you deserve not to have to worry. Your dad gave you that money. He wanted you to have it, to be looked after.”

“Because he knew it was coming?” she countered, her grip on my arm tightening. “Because that’s what this life is? Always a risk?”

“All life is a risk,” I offered.

She nodded and vowed, “I won’t lose you like I lost him. I won’t.”