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“Well, you should—” Eddie breaks off abruptly, hurrying over to a petite redhead who’s hugely pregnant and walking outside carrying a platter of cheese, tomato, and lettuce. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be carrying that!”
“I can’t see the ground anyway. Might as well make myself useful.”
Eddie takes the platter from his wife and sets it on the table before guiding her over to me. Her expression is a mixture of apprehension and admiration as she approaches, glancing between Hannah and me the same way Rachel did.
I smile at her. “Nice to meet you, April.”
She smiles back. “You did your homework, huh?”
“Oliver is good with names,” Rachel comments, cracking open a can of soda and taking a seat at the table.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Oliver.”
“There you are!” Cynthia calls. “Where have you been, Dean?”
“I had to get more charcoal from the garage,” is the gruff response.
I turn to greet the one family member I haven’t yet met.
Dean Garner is hugging Hannah with one arm, while balancing a plate piled high with freshly cooked burgers in the other.
For a man who must be in his mid-fifties, he’s in excellent shape. He could easily pass for a decade younger. Eddie is a younger version of him, the same way Hannah favors her mother. Rachel has more of a mix of her parents’ features.
I’m not a parent, so I don’t know if you have favorites. My father has vacillated between me and Crew too many times for me to tell if he genuinely prefers one of us to the other. But it’s obvious Hannah and her father have an especially close bond. It’s clear in the way he squeezes her, then turns a stern gaze on me.
I make the first move, holding a hand out to Hannah’s father.
His grip is firm, his expression steely.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Garner.”
Unlike his wife, he doesn’t offer a less formal address.
“Dad, this is Oliver,” Hannah says, as the silence of us staring at each other stretches and stretches.
I hold Dean’s gaze the whole time. I’m no stranger to intimidation tactics. I’ve used plenty of them myself. And despite how this meeting won’t mean anything in the grand scheme of my life—not to mention, Hannah’s intention it goes poorly—I want Dean Garner to like me. Respect me, at the very least.
He finally speaks. “Oliver…”
“Kensington.”
Hannah didn’t mention my last name. It’s obvious in the upward creep of his eyebrows, a reaction he doesn’t fully manage to control. Coming from a man who has made a career of being successful at bluffing and negotiating, the tiny motion says a lot.
Dean glances at Hannah, who avoids her father’s gaze, looking at Rachel instead. She’s eating a piece of cheese and watching us, same as everyone else.
I’m realizing I read this situation wrong.
I thought Hannah was inviting me to save face with her family, to show them I’m the reason our pretend relationship and real marriage will never work, not her. Now I’m realizing she would have rather I never met them at all. The concept of parents taking a genuine interest in their child’s life is a foreign one to me. My father only cares about what serves his interests. What benefits him. What he can control.
“Well,” Mr. Garner finally says, after anotherlongpause. “You hungry?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nods and continues toward the table with the burgers.
Everyone else follows him toward the table, grabbing plates and taking seats.
Sir?Hannah mouths at me.
