Everything was different because of McKenzie. Because I loved her.
I remembered hearing love songs and thinking how fucking ridiculous they all sounded. Like the stories old fishermen told about that elusive fifteen-pound bass they’d once caught but had no proof of.
But McKenzie caught me, and what we’d created was rare. There weren’t colors bright enough to paint her portrait, no words strong enough to describe how magical this love was. But I’d spend my days trying to find them.
TWENTY-THREE
McKenzie
“There’snothing to be nervous about,” I said, touching Luca’s arm as we started up the path to my mother’s house about a week before Christmas. “My mom’s easygoing. You’ll love her, I promise.”
“Yeah, but she’syour mom,” he insisted. “I’m almost forty years old, and I’ve never met anyone’s parents before. Because I’ve never been in arelationshipbefore.”
“Ah, that’s right.” I gave him an exaggerated wince. “Yeah, you’re screwed.”
He stopped me from reaching for the doorknob, grabbing my shoulder with one hand, the holiday-colored bouquet he’d picked out for my mom in the other.
“I don’t want to mess this up.” His throat bobbed as it worked to swallow. “She’s the most important person in your life. I want her to like me. What can I do to make her like me?”
The sincerity in his words made my heart melt into a puddle.
“Luca,” I said, gripping his arms. “She’s going to like you. Just be yourself.”
“Have you met me?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “That’s terrible advice.”
“My mom is like me, but with more back pain and orthopedic shoes. She’s going to love you,” I repeated with a laugh.
“Like you, huh?” he asked, raising his brows. “So, she’s hot?”
“I hate you.” I rolled my eyes and reached for the handle again, but he stopped me, sliding his hand around my neck and turning me toward him for a kiss.
“You love me,” he whispered.
“I do,” I said with a mischievous grin. “By the way, my mom is more of a Dallas girl.”
“Wait, what?” he asked as I flung open the door and stepped inside, calling out to my mother. “Mom, we’re here.”
“In the kitchen,” she shouted back, but I already knew that from the scent of garlic and homemade marinara wafting through the air. She’d made her lasagna, which was my favorite.
I reached for Luca’s hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze as I led him toward the source of the aroma. There, in her pink “Just Fucking Eat It” apron, was my mother with her hair twisted into a claw clip.
“Hi, sweetie,” she greeted me, wiping her hands on the apron as she smiled up at Luca.
He held out the flowers to her. “These are for you.”
“Well, aren’t you a doll?” she replied, taking them and burying her nose in the blooms.
“They’re so pretty. Thank you.”
“Here, Mom,” I said, reaching for the bouquet. “Let me put those in a vase for you.”
She kissed my cheek. “Thank you, Kenz. I want to get a look at your man candy here.”
I snorted. “Oh my God, Mom. If you keep that up, he’s gonna break up with me on the spot.”
Luca chuckled. “Nah, I’ve been called worse.”
“I’ve heard so much about you, Luca,” she said, pulling him into a hug. “Between McKenzie and your Midnight in Dallas music, I feel like I know you already.”
