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He laughs softly. “They won’t go sideways, and I think you’ll do just fine.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” He leans forward, and then he kisses me. “They’ll love you.”
“I’m more worried about them loving you, J.R.”
“The past is the past. He sounded sincere. We’ll just have to see where it goes.”
“You’re calm,” I point out.
He smiles. “Someone has to be.”
I scoot closer to him, and I take his cheeks in my hands. “I love you.”
J.R. leans into me. “It’s going to work out great. If it doesn’t…well, it’s my house; I’ll kick them out.”
I take his braid in my fingers, and I gaze in his eyes. I smile, and then I kiss him.
“Are you okay?” he asks me.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “I’m happy for you. I know it hasn’t been easy living all of this time without them.”
“We’ll see. I’m not getting my hopes up, but it’s a step, right?”
I nod. “It’s a step.”
34
It’s Thanksgiving morning, and I’m every bit of the nervous wreck I thought I would be. J.R. is taking care of the food as he promised. Knox is settled on the couch watching the Thanksgiving Day parade on television, and I’m running around the house cleaning every nook and cranny like the crazy person that I am.
“Rach, stop cleaning!” J.R. shouts from the kitchen, but I ignore him. First impressions are important; and I figure if, by some chance, we have to go into detail about our messy past, at least the house will be clean.
Knox hops off the couch, and I hear her little feet run into the kitchen. “Your mom is crazy,” I hear J.R. mumble to Knox. She giggles, and I roll my eyes at them.
I’m sweeping the foyer, but I can hear their conversation continue in the kitchen. “Daddy, if our guests today are your mama and daddy, does that mean they’re my grandma and grandpa?”
“Yep,” J.R. answers.
“How come I’ve never heard of them until now?” she asks.
I feel a little relieved to get some of the heat off of me. Sure, I kept J.R. from Knox for many years, but she’s got a complete set of grandparents that we haven’t even told her about. Well, not until this morning, anyway.
“It’s complicated, Knox,” J.R. says.
Knox sighs. “How come everything is always complicated?”
“Just enjoy being a kid,” J.R. tells her. “You don’t want our problems. Trust me.”
I bend over and sweep the sand and dirt into the dustpan, but as I stand back straight, I catch a glimpse of a black car pulling into our driveway. My heart begins to pound, and I realize they’re here. J.R.’s parents are here. I think I might puke.
“J.R.?” I say, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Yeah, babe?”
“They’re here.” I’m stuck. Frozen. Standing on this burnt orange rug in the foyer, staring through the glass of the door into the driveway at the black car that is now parked in front of our house, I’m not sure what to expect. I don’t think that I’ve ever even seen a photo of J.R.’s parents.
J.R. appears next to me, and he’s drying his hands on a dish towel. He looks out. “Yep, that’s them.”
