Now that she’s dressed and halfway standing behind me, my father motions at the work we’ve been doing. “Seems you’ve made a lot of progress . . . on the floors.”
“In more ways than one,” my mother says, amused. Kenna buries her face against my arm. “Who’s your friend, Ledger?” My mother is smiling, but she has a lot of different smiles, and they don’t always mean something sweet. This smile is her entertained smile. Her this-is-so-much-fun smile.
“This is . . . um . . .” I have no idea how to introduce Kenna to them. I don’t even know what name to use. They’d definitely recognize her name if I said Kenna, but I’m not exactly sure they won’t recognize her face, so lying to them would be pointless. “This is . . . my new employee.” I need to ask Kenna how she wants me to confront this. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and lead her to the bedroom. “Excuse us while we go coordinate our lies,” I say over my shoulder.
Kenna and I make it to the bedroom, out of their view, and she looks at me wide eyed. “You can’t tell them who I am,” she whispers.
“I can’t lie to them. My mom will probably recognize you once she gets a better look at you. She was at your sentencing, and she never forgets a face. She also knows you’re back in town.”
Kenna looks like she’s about to fold in on herself. She starts to pace, and I can see the weight of the world begin to return to her shoulders. She looks up at me with fear in her eyes. “Do they hate me?”
That question digs at my heart, mainly because she’s starting to tear up. And it’s only in this moment that I realize she assumes everyone who knew Scotty must hate her. “No. Of course they don’t hate you.”
I realize as I say those words that I don’t necessarily know if they’re true. My parents were heartbroken when Scotty died. He was as important to them as I am to Patrick and Grace. But I’m not sure that I’ve ever had a conversation with my parents specifically about their opinion of Kenna. It was over five years ago. I can’t remember what conversations were had or what their thoughts were on everything that happened. And we barely discuss it anymore.
Kenna can see that I’m processing, and she grows a little panicked. “Can’t you just take me home? I can sneak out the back and meet you at your truck.”
Whether my parents realize who Kenna is or not, Kenna doesn’t know what kind of people my parents are. She doesn’t realize she has nothing to be concerned about.
I cup her face with my hands. “Kenna. They’re my parents. If they recognize you, they’ll have my back no matter what.” Those words calm her a little bit. “I’ll introduce you as Nicole for now, and then I’ll take you home and deal with them and the truth later. Okay? They’re good people. So are you.”
She nods, so I give her a quick kiss and grab her hand and lead her out of the bedroom. They’re in the kitchen now, inspecting all the things Roman and I have added since they were last out here. When they notice our return, they both casually lean against the counters, anticipating this introduction.
I wave a hand at Kenna. “This is Nicole.” I wave a hand at my parents. “My mother, Robin. My father, Benji.”
Kenna smiles and shakes their hands, but then she sidles back up to my side like she’s scared to move too far away from me. I grab her hand that’s at her side, and I move it behind her back and squeeze it to provide her with a little comfort.
“It’s such a pleasant surprise that you aren’t alone,” my mother says. “We thought you’d be out here moping by yourself today.”
I’m scared to ask. “Why would I be moping?”
My mother laughs and turns to my father. “You owe me ten bucks, Benji.” She holds out her hand, and my father pulls out his wallet and slaps a ten-dollar bill in her palm. She shoves it in the pocket of her jeans. “We bet on whether you’d even remember you were supposed to be leaving for your honeymoon today.”
Why am I not surprised? “Which one of you bet that I’d forget Mother’s Day?”
My mother raises her hand.
“I didn’t forget. Check your email. I sent a gift card because I had no idea where to send flowers to this week.”
My mother takes the ten-dollar bill out of her pocket and hands it back to my father. She walks over to me and finally gives me a hug. “Thank you.” She doesn’t look at Kenna because her attention is stolen midhug by the patio door. “Oh, wow! It looks even better than I imagined!” She releases me and passes us to go play with the accordion-style door.