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“Nonsense. You’ll stay here. I’ll make up the guest room.”
Vaughn laces our fingers together. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
And now things are definitely, irretrievably beyond my control.
The hand holding does not go unnoticed by Mom. “How are you at slicing tomatoes?” she asks the guy currently in possession of more than my hand.
“Umm…”
I glance at him and out of nowhere, I laugh. Only my mom would look at Vaughn Shaughnessy and think, “Sure, he’s easy on the eyes, but can he slice tomatoes?”
“Vaughn’s more of a takeout kind of guy.” I release his hand and slip around the counter to get back to grating cheese.
“Today he’s the tomato guy. Come on, I’ll demonstrate.”
It’s surreal standing in the kitchen of the house I grew up in with my mom and Vaughn and talking and laughing while we make pizza. I sneak peeks at him constantly, admiring the quick, genuine smiles he offers my mom as she not-so-subtly pumps him for personal deets.
“Kendall tells me you live next door to Jack and Sally. Did you grow up in Los Angeles?”
“Born and raised.”
“Any brothers or sisters?”
“Mom.”
“It’s okay,” Vaughn says, finished slicing the tomatoes. “I had a sister, but she passed away several years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” Mom touches his arm in comfort.
“Thank you.” A beat of silence passes. “How about you? I’m not sure which side of the family Aunt Sally is on?”
Mom grins and launches into our family tree. I’d like to hide behind a giant oak right about now, but I grin, too, and bear it. Thankfully, our tree isn’t all that big, and he’s already met almost half of it. Mom puts two pizzas in the oven just as my dad walks into the room.
I make introductions, and then, since Mom has a green salad ready to go, the four of us sit down at the table to start eating.
Dad doesn’t waste any time getting to the bottom of my relationship with Vaughn. “I take it you and Kendall have gotten to know each other well.” It’s a fair question considering I’ve never told anyone outside of family and Brit about the accident and Mason.
“Vaughn’s been a true friend.” I don’t need my dad to know exactly how deeply we’re involved.
“She’s been a better one,” Vaughn says easily, going along with my friendship description.
Dad gives a nod of acknowledgment. “Did you talk to any of your old classmates today?” he asks me. “Jim Baker’s daughter is starting law school in the fall, too, you know.”
“I did not know.”
“You two should touch base before school starts.”
I run my fork through my salad. “Maybe.”
“Kendall is going to make an incredible attorney one day,” Dad tells Vaughn.
“I’ve no doubt she’ll be incredible at anything she chooses to do,” he says. His eyes bounce from my dad to me. Hold. They’re saying everything he respectfully won’t say out loud. Choose what you love.
Sometimes that isn’t an option. What is that saying? Do what you have to do until you can do what you want to do.
Whatever decision I ultimately make about my career, with Mason’s funeral tomorrow, I’m too emotional to think too deeply about it now.
Mom pulls the pizzas out of the oven. I’m grateful we polish them off over simple conversation. When finished, Vaughn and I do the dishes. I show him the guest bedroom and bath. While he’s brushing his teeth or whatever, Mom corners me in the hallway.
