Chapter 24: Arianna
That definitely could not have gone any worse.
When Dad and Byron return, they seem to have hit it off. After Byron leaves for his duties, Dad says Byron is “a little rough around the edges” but seems like a good hardworking man who is very proud of his sons.
Dell doesn’t respond to that. I know he feels differently.
When the taxi with my parents pulls away, Dell and I stand there, a little shell-shocked.
“Should we find your mother before we go?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “We’ll call them in the morning. We should go fetch Grace from Aunt Marge.”
“You think your mom called her and told her what happened?” I ask. I picture Marge taking some terrible vengeance out on Grace.
“No. She doesn’t have a phone and probably had to catch up on her work. It’ll be okay. Besides, Marge is a sweet lady. And practical when it comes to Mom.”
We walk to the rented white SUV. Bits of gravel crunch beneath my feet. I’m still not sure how to process the evening. So many things were said.
When Dell starts the car, I say, “We don’t even know who knows what. Your mom didn’t seem to really understand that Grace isn’t mine. Neither of our dads heard the conversation. Mom is, God, I don’t even know what Mom is thinking!”
He heads to the highway.
“I guess I knew this day was coming,” he says.
“When everyone finds out about Grace?” I ask. My voice has a high, hysterical quality I don’t like.
“I really think Grace is safe enough,” he says. “Both our sets of parents realize they should leave her out of this.”
“What about your name? Your past?” I stare out the side window. “Are you okay with everyone knowing who you are now? Blue collar and all?”
He doesn’t answer. The lights blur past our window.
“Our parents knowing doesn’t mean the world knows.”
“If they can be discreet.” None of them were being particularly calm. Mom has an Instagram following approaching half a million. One post and the world knows about Dell.
And whoa. I told my mother she ditched me. That she hadn’t been there. I confronted her.
I feel lost. Confused. When do we bury our feelings and when do we let them out?
Dell reaches for my hand. “Let me take you somewhere before we pick up the baby,” he says.
That’s probably a good idea. We weren’t even gone two hours. It’s fine to slow down. Maybe I can compose myself before I face Marge. Hopefully Daniel Dean won’t be around. I have a hard time staying straight-faced around him.
They’re all so hard. All of Dell’s family. What is it? Being southern? Poor?
We’ve driven several minutes before I figure it out. They say the truth. They don’t hide it behind politeness or sugarcoat it. They don’t therapy it out or pretend it doesn’t exist.
They live out in the open. Say what they think. If people get mad, let ’em get mad.
And they seem happy. As happy as any of us ever get.
I think of the party, the dancing, the pride they took in everything from their VA Hall to their roasted pig. It didn’t take catered food or party planners or extravagance to be a good memory.
I could have done without the ball-and-chain shirt, though.
A smile flirts with my lips. I’m feeling better.
“Working it through?” Dell asks, his fingers clasped around mine.
“Maybe,” I say. I kick off my shoes. I’m tired of this dress, tired of being looked at, examined, questioned. I just want to “be.”
We pull up in a small parking lot nestled in trees.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Vulcan Trail,” he says. “Up there is one of the oldest parks in Birmingham, including the Vulcan, an iron statue.”
We get out of the car. The statue is lit up, way above us on the hill. It’s enormous, on a tall slender pillar.
“We can go see the statue if you like,” he says.
“Maybe we can come back to it when Grace is older,” I say.
“Good plan.” Dell takes my hand and we walk along the trail in the dark. The moon and the spillover light from the park above provide enough light for us not to stumble.
There’s no one here. We come to a clearer space, and all of Birmingham seems laid out below.
“It’s lovely,” I say.
Dell puts his arm around me. We look at the sight for a moment.
“Tough night,” he says. “You doing okay?”
My voice sounds gritty. “Oh, I don’t know. All our secrets got spilled and I told my mother how I felt about her leaving, and I have no idea what to do next.”
He squeezes me tightly against him. “Everyone will think things over tonight. You know what I believe?”
I look up at him. He’s ruggedly handsome in this light. Strong and stalwart. “What?”
“That Grace will be the thing that brings us all together. We can’t blow apart, let our families fragment. If we do, someone loses Grace.”
“I guess this was exactly the time for this to happen. Weddings are happy events. Everyone will recover for that.”
“Exactly,” he says.
“I hope so.” My mom is a tough nut. But then, so is his. “We can always elope.”
“Exactly. They’ll be afraid of that.”
“After all, you have a private plane,” I say with a laugh. “You showboat.”
He chuckles. “That I am.”
The night air is cool and I’m glad for Dell’s warmth. I slide my hand beneath his sports coat. “It’s lovely here. Quiet. Peaceful.”
“It is,” he says, and his voice has a husky quality to it, rumbling and low.
The sound of it wakes up parts of me. We’re so close, our arms entwined. We’ve never had so much peace in the outdoors, not together. It can’t be managed where we live. There’s too much bustle, so much noise.
He turns me to him, and I melt against his body. He leans down, his lips brushing mine. The hard evening falls away as his mouth takes over, warm, seeking, insistent.
His hands move around my body, sliding along my waist. He caresses my back, my ribs.
The kiss deepens, our mouths seeking more. He tastes faintly of sweet liquor. I’m lost in him, lost in these woods, in the quiet.
His hands slide down my hips to the backs of my thighs. I feel aloft as he grips them, lifting me off the ground.
I tuck my legs around him, the skirt of my dress riding up.
And I feel him, hard against me, his body responding.
He takes a few steps forward, walking between a bench and a stone wall. The distance is perfect. My back presses into the stone, cushioned by my dress and my sweater. My feet reach the metal of the bench. I’m suspended, Dell between my legs, pressing me into the wall. His mouth moves to my neck, my collarbone.
His hands are more free, one cupping me, holding me in place while the other reaches behind me for the zipper of the dress.
I cock my hips forward, giving him room between my back and the wall. This connects us more securely, his erection raging there, pressing into me through my skirt and panties.
The top of the dress goes loose, and now Dell tugs down the thin strap beneath my cardigan. The top falls enough to expose the lacy cup of my bra. He slides down that strap, tugging everything down on one side.
One rosy breast is revealed to the moonlight, the nipple tightening instantly in the cool air.
His head dips down, catching it in his mouth. It’s warm and wet, and I suck in a breath.
He rocks against me where we join below. My hands clasp his shoulders, but I reach down, lifting my skirt out of the way.
His free hand moves down, beneath the dress, sliding up my thigh. He reaches my panties, small and delicate, and flirts with the lacy edge.
I push with my feet to create a little space between our bodies, flattening against the wall. I reach between us to unbutton his khakis, tugging the zipper down.
His boxers are soft satin and easy to push out of the way. He springs up to me, and I slide my hand along his length.
He groans, leaving my breast and burying his face in my neck. I work him a little longer, fingers tight, moving with his rhythm until I can feel the veins pulsing under his skin.
“Arianna,” he says, both hands holding me now, lifting me higher. I let him go and hang on, arms trembling, anxious and needy.
His hand slides between my legs and shifts the panties aside. Fingers slip inside me, and I clutch his head, sucking in another breath.
He works my body, in and out, finding the sweet nub that aches for him, and circling it with his thumb.
The tension begins to increase and I rock with his movements. I want him now, here, right here. “Dell, please, yes,” I say.
He withdraws his hand and shifts until his erection presses against me. He pulls the panties aside again, and then he’s there, sliding inside, our bodies flush against each other.
I feel so full, so complete. He holds me in his hands, lifting me, then letting me fall on him, again and again.
I push against the bench, adding pressure and speed. My fingers grip his shoulders, bulging and strong.
He’s so deep, so powerful. My need for him overwhelms me, flooding me with heat. The tightness around him builds, then pauses for a long golden moment, suspended, intense.
Then it all lets go.
I cry out, pulsing around him, my body exploding in a shower of pleasure and bright sparks. Dell grips me, holding me still, rocking inside, and I feel the warm rush of him spilling inside me.
We clutch each other, holding on, the breeze tickling my cheeks and teasing my hair. It’s intoxicating, being outside, feeling so intense and loved and full.
Voices carry from above. We look up. We can’t see anyone around the statue, which means they can’t see us either. The figure of the giant man, arm outstretched, is a silhouette in the trees.
Dell withdraws and sets me down. We arrange our clothes.
“I bet you took all the girls here,” I say.
He laughs. “No, no, I did not.”
We hold hands as we walk back to the car. It’s time to fetch our baby girl. Face more family. And see how the chips are going to fall from this very eventful night.