Chapter 31
“Some hot older guy requested your section, Wren,” Abby tells me as soon as I return from my break.
I glance toward the windows, making a face when I realize who she’s referring to. “Gross. That is my dad, Abby.”
And Dad has spotted me, lifting one hand in a small wave. I grab a menu and head that way.
“What are you doing here?” I ask once I reach his table.
Dad smiles, reclining in his chair. “I missed you too, honey.”
He’s been in Europe for the past week, meeting with executives from some corporation Kensington Consolidated is considering partnering with.
Honestly, I lose track of my dad’s frequent meetings and regular trips.
He wasn’t gone for as long or as often when Rory and I were younger, but that’s starting to change now that we’re adults.
“Of course I missed you,” I say. “But I wasn’t expecting to see you until tonight. And at home. Not at my job.”
“I wanted to see where you work,” Dad tells me.
I arch an eyebrow. “It’s members only. You didn’t …”
Buying a membership just to visit me at work is something my dad would do.
I already feel strange about the fact that everyone knows I’m not waitressing because I need the money.
I don’t know exactly how much the memberships here cost, but my guess is, the average person would consider it expensive.
“I didn’t become a member,” Dad assures me. “I’m here as a guest of Hanson’s.”
I nod, relieved.
“Now”—Dad flips open the menu—“what’s good here?”
“The burger is popular,” I reply, tapping it with my pen. “So is the lobster roll.”
“We’re having lobsters tonight. I’ll have the burger.”
My pen stills. “We are?”
“Yes. Rory and Carson are visiting this weekend.”
I grimace as I scribble burger on the order pad.
“Wren.”
“I’ll be nice,” I mutter.
“Is there anyone you’d like to invite?”
My head snaps up, and I meet Dad’s gaze. I haven’t introduced them to a guy since I dated Third, and I think my parents are torn between concern that I’m scarred from how that ended and relief that they haven’t had to worry about any guy I’m dating.
“No,” I reply, shoving thoughts of Sawyer far away. “No one.”
I can’t picture him sitting down to eat with my family.
Or having anything in common with Carson, who has a trust fund and I’ve never seen not wear a suit.
I only met Sawyer’s mom by accident, and him meeting my family sounds very boyfriendy.
He never answered my question—asking what we were—which is a reply in itself, and I’m too proud to ask again.
I underline burger, then glance up. “Medium rare?”
Dad nods.
“Fries or salad on the side?”
“Fries.”
“Anything to drink?”
“I’m good with water.”
There’s already a glass on the table, which Abby must have delivered after seating him.
“Okay.” I tuck the order pad back in my apron. “It’ll be right out.”
“This place is nice,” Dad says, leaning back in his chair and glancing around. “Maybe we should become members.”
“Isn’t Mom’s project wrapping up this summer?” I ask. “When would you ever use it?”
“We’ve talked about buying a place here. It’s nice to get away from the crazy pace of the city, especially now that you and your sister are older. More quality time. Fewer places for you to sneak off to, although you’ve obviously managed to find some.”
I roll my eyes. “I haven’t snuck out this summer.”
Dad tips his water glass to me. “You’ve earned a lot of responsibility points with this job too.
I knew, Wren, from the second the nurse handed you to me, what a fighter you were.
Don’t let anyone—me or your mom included—tell you what you can or can’t do.
Within reason, of course,” he adds hastily.
“You still have a curfew, and I still pay your car insurance, so I can take the keys away whenever I want.”
“I could pay it myself now,” I tease.
He sips some water. “Great. Write me a check.”
“I said I could, not that I will.”
Dad shakes his head, but he’s smiling.
“And thanks, Dad. I know waitressing isn’t interning at a courthouse, but—”
Dad sets his glass down decisively. “Wren, what your sister does with her life is her decision. Whatever you decide to do with yours, your mother and I will be proud of you and support you. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you.” I fiddle with the pen, rolling it between my fingers before admitting, “I’m still not sure about college.”
A crease of concern appears on Dad’s forehead. “About UCLA?”
“About … anywhere.”
“It’s a big change, Wren. It’s normal to feel nervous about it.”
I sigh. “Grandpa is mad I’m going to UCLA. He told me over the Fourth.”
Dad sighs too. His is heavier than mine.
“I spent a long time trying to not disappoint your grandfather. Trust me, it’s impossible.
He wants the very best for you. In his mind, that’s tradition.
Reputation and prestige. He had very specific expectations for me and your uncle.
Some benefited us; others didn’t. You picked UCLA.
Unless you have changed your mind, then that’s where you should go. ”
I smile. “I love you, Dad.”
I feel lucky to be a Kensington. I feel really lucky to be Oliver Kensington’s daughter.
He smiles back. “Love you too, Birdie.”
Dad hasn’t called me that in a while. I started telling him not to; I suddenly wish I could go back in time and not. One apprehension I didn’t mention to Sawyer when he asked why I wasn’t excited: I’m anxious about leaving my parents.
I value my independence. I’ve gone away to summer camps and visited Europe with friends, been away from them for longer stretches of time. But I’ve never left home so far, for so long before. Even being in a familiar city, close to my grandparents, doesn’t make it sound less daunting.
California is far from here too. And I’m not frivolous enough to build my future around a boy—let alone one who has repeatedly knocked down any attempt to—but I’ve never been that far from Sawyer since I met him. We’ve always lived in the same state.
“I’ll be back with your food,” I tell Dad, stopping at another one of my tables to see if they need anything and then continuing toward the kitchen to put in Dad’s order.
I drop off the slip of paper, attempting to ignore the fact that a few of the guys from the marina—including Sawyer—are grabbing their lunches.
“Abby said your dad is here?” Macie asks, appearing next to me.
“Yeah,” I confirm.
She giggles. “She also said he’s hot.”
“And married. To my mom.”
Macie laughs. “Hey, I didn’t say it. Older men don’t do it for me.” She glances toward the guys. Toward Sawyer, who’s laughing at something Gus said.
Sawyer said he hasn’t touched her, and I believe him.
I don’t know why he hasn’t though. Macie is smart and funny and pretty, a year older than us, so she’s already in college.
She goes to a small one, up in Maine, then spends the summers here with her grandparents.
She could easily visit on the weekends. She comes from a normal, nondescript family.
“Wren!”
I jerk my attention back to Macie. “Sorry. What?”
“I said, I’m having a party tonight. You free?”
“Oh. I’m not sure. I have a family-dinner thing tonight. So, probably not.”
Macie pouts. “I’ll text you my address, in case you can make it.”
She skips away, probably to invite the guys. The kitchen bell dings, indicating an order is up. I walk over to the counter, picking up the fish and chips for table five.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I pull it out, assuming it’ll be Macie sending me her address.
It’s not.
Sawyer: You should come.