Struggling with the buttons at her back and laughing as Max tried to bounce his way into her lap, or at least burrow under her skirts, Hestia voiced a small "hmm?" of question as Dominic spoke, looking up several moments later. When she did, her jaw dropped. And then she cursed softly.
Damn. Damn damn damn. In his hands was the wedding robes she had bought, not all that long ago, on a stupid whim when he had given her what amounted to a promise ring, but had been more like a "maybe someday if we're lucky" gesture. His ring on her hand had made her think thoughts, thoughts she knew she shouldn't, about walking down the aisle and waking up next to him every day and making coffee and burning breakfast in the kitchen while he laughed and the house-elf moved around her anxiously, unable to stop the destruction of food because Hestia was the mistress of the house.
She had never meant him to see it, though, which was why it had been quickly relegated to the back of her closet with other things she never wore, like formal wear. Damn. Damn damn damn.
"Dominic, I can explain," she finally said shakily.