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I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.
“Honestly? A little nervous.”
Kenzi drops her head against the car seat. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”
“What’ve you told them?” Donovan asks from the back seat, suddenly sounding on edge.
“Just that I’m bringing a couple friends over.”
“That’s good,” Kenzi says. “I think we should keep that line. No reason to make things weird with…hey, Mom, Dad, these are the two people I’m fucking.”
“Yeah,” Donovan agrees. “Let’s not.”
I bite the inside of my lip. I’m not great at keeping secrets—but they’re right. To open that jar of worms would invite too many questions.
But it doesn’t feel right to keep them a secret, either. It makes this feels dirty.
Which it’s not. It’s beautiful.
“If you’re sure,” I say, but even I know I don’t sound convincing.
I don’t know if Kenzi realizes the effect she has on me, because her nails are still absently tracing circles over the back of my neck.
I’ve got to stop her before I pop a boner in front of my parents, so I gently remove her hand and press an affectionate kiss to the backs of her fingers instead.
That makes her smile. My heart leaps.
I pull us up the driveway. My mother is waiting for us. She’s bundled up in an olive-green coat, thick mittens, and a scarf around her face. Even from the car, I can tell her cheeks are rosy. How long has she been standing in the cold waiting for us?
She eagerly waves a gloved hand as I park the car in the driveway and kill the engine.
The three of us step out, and the first thing I do is scoop my mom in a quick hug. She’s too short and I’m too tall, which worked out for me in high school when I could easily avoid her embarrassing gestures of affection. Now, I have to bend down to press a small kiss to the side of her face and tell her, “Happy New Year.”
“Oh, Happy New Year, my darling. It’s so good to see you.”
Her grip is always too tight, and it hurts in a way I can’t describe. Since her kids flew the nest, she doesn’t have a lot to hold on to, and my dad is crap at emotional support.
I make a mental note to push him to get a dog.
“Come on in!” she says. “It’s freezing!”
We all head inside. It’s warm in here and brightly lit. I can smell the cooking from the kitchen—notes of roasted vegetables and onion lingering in the air.
My dad stands in the foyer, lips pressed in a thin smile. I nod to him. “Happy New Year.”
He nods back. This is as close as we’ll get all night.
“I brought some friends—you guys remember Kenzi?” I put both hands on Kenzi’s shoulders to take her coat.
“My uh…mom used to be married to Terry Blake. We were here a few years ago.”
“Oh! Yes!” My mom clasps her hands excitedly, even though I can tell by her glassy stare that she doesn’t recall Kenzi at all. “Of course—how is your mother doing now?”
“Fine, actually…”
“Donovan.” My father clasps Donovan’s hand. “Always good to see you, son.”
Donovan shakes his hand. “You too, Mr. King.”
