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“So you put it up here?” Kenz asked.
“It was my choice. I oversee all the people who work in the estate, including the decorator. When I saw how much the young master cherished this, I knew we had to purchase it and put it in a place of honor.”
“That was foolish,” I muttered, unable to ignore the way my cheeks flushed. “This is hardly art. I was a kid who didn’t know what real art was back then.”
Kenz pulled away from me and stepped closer to the piece, staring at it in the appraising way only an artist could. “The use of color is amazing. Someone who didn’t know anything would think it was random, but it isn’t. See, the artist used warm colors on the snow and trees, to show the life of nature, but cooler shades in the sky to show how far away that is, how vast. It all makes you feel safe but also free, two things that aren’t always easy to show together like this.”
I blinked slowly, taken aback by her statement. It was honest, yet she’d managed to hit the core of what I’d liked about it. I’d never said that out loud, never dared to voice my true feelings. In fact, I’d never even directly told Taylor I’d liked her. He’d simply worked it out from how I’d stared. To have Kenz understand me like that astounded me.
Taylor stared not at the piece but at Kenz, his expression thoughtful. “You are quite astounding, aren’t you?” He said that so softly I wasn’t sure Kenz heard.
She turned, her eyebrows furrowed to tell me I was right. “What?”
Taylor shook his head and smiled. “Nothing. I was just noting that you have a very good eye. Come along, though, the master and the mistress do not like to be kept waiting.”
With that, Kenz offered an apologetic smile and slipped her arm through the crook of mine again. I tried to ignore the warmth in my chest at her words, at the comfort I felt around her.
We entered the large dining room, and I immediately cringed. How many times, when growing up, had I invited friends over only to have them hate the large room, the coldness? I’d wanted to have what I’d seen in all the movies, where friends came over and ate pizza on the floor while they watched some stupid TV show. Instead, I’d gotten five-star meals of ingredients no one recognized in this auditorium of a dining room at a table that could seat twenty-five.
I’d learned my lesson after the first few and had stopped inviting people over.
At least, people I cared about.
Which was why the thought of showing this to Kenz chafed.
“Vance,” my mother said, her voice warm. Most people remembered their mothers’ voices from when they were sick, when she would stroke their hair and reassure them that they’d be fine.
Not me, though. Taylor had done those things. And my mother? I recalled her voice only when she praised me for good grades.
Still, her voice melted some cold part of me, the part that craved a mother’s love no matter how insufficient the version offered to me.
“You’re late,” my father said gruffly.
“I’m late because I didn’t want to come at all,” I said without the least bit of shame, rewarded with Kenz pinching my side to scold me.
My mother ignored me and rose from her seat, crossing the short distance to Kenz and me. She reached out to shake Kenz’s hand, her smile strange, probably due to a recent injection to paralyze her face. “My name is Bethany Moore, and this is my husband, Harold Moore.”
“My name is Mackenzie Fox. Thank you so much for inviting me. Your home is lovely.”
“Thank you,” my mother said, clearly charmed by Kenz’s good manners. “Please, sit. Is there anything you can’t eat? Anything we should let the chef know about?”
Kenz shook her head—always the polite one—but I spoke up in her stead. “She’s diabetic, so please ask the chef to keep that in mind for her food.”
My mother looked toward Taylor, who nodded, then excused himself to the back.
Kenz shot me a sharp look, no doubt telling me not to cause problems for her sake.
Too bad.Like I’d risk her just so she didn’t bother a chef whose entire job was to cook what we wanted.
My father had taken the chair at the head of the table, and my mother sat to his side. Kenz sat to his other side—across the table from my mother—and I sat beside her.The wide, empty table ran from there, making the room feel vast.
An uncomfortable tension rested inside me, as though I were exposing Kenz to danger.
Which was hilarious given all I’d done to her thus far… I could have helped her escape right from the start, but instead I kept shoving her into situations that could harm her, things that could take her life, yet I was worried about her meeting my parents?
Talk about fucked-up priorities.
“So how long have you been dating?” my mother asked.
