Chapter 21
OLI
The pale afternoon sunshine gave everything outside a milky glow as I snuggled into my winter coat in the back seat of KC’s Jeep.
I kept my gloves on because even though heat was blasting from the vents, there was still a harsh chill in the air.
Perry Como’s “Home for the Holidays” played softly through the speakers.
The song wasn’t on a playlist, though. It was part of the end-of-the-year holiday blowout on the classic rock radio station, something I listened to each year with Mom.
Nostalgia tugged at my heart.
When I was little, we were too poor to afford devices that could play music.
She didn’t even have a smartphone. But one of the old apartments we’d lived in had a radio on the underside of the kitchen cabinets and it was always on, filling our space with music and life when she was too tired to do it herself.
The radio had been the soundtrack of our lives for years.
“So.” Ren glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Is your mom going to have her house stuffed with pies and cakes and candies and ham and stuff?” I couldn’t tell if he was hopeful or apprehensive. When he cut a quick glance at KC, I thought maybe it was both.
“Uh, usually yes? But I’m not sure. We spent so many years being busted broke that it’s a possibility that she went overboard.
She sometimes gets lost in the idea of making things up to me.
” Anxiety twisted inside me as I studied KC’s profile.
He was cute in a beanie with a white pompom on top.
His cheeks flushed pink as he caught Ren looking at him.
I glanced out the window, but I was pretty sure he’d noticed me, too.
KC groaned and rested his head against the window, his pompom flopping sadly to the left. “I don’t care what you guys eat, you know? I just don’t want anyone to be upset if I don’t want a pile of cookies or Buckeye balls.”
Ren snickered and it turned into a snort. “What are Buckeye balls?” He leered at KC. “Balls. I have some balls for you if you want to eat them.”
I rolled my eyes, but he was busy being a jackass, so he didn’t say anything about it. “Homemade peanut butter fudge dipped in chocolate. I’m not sure why they call them that, though. You don’t have them in LA?”
He slowly shook his head, then gave me a broken puppy head tilt.
“I’m pretty sure you would be arrested for eating something like that in my mother’s house.
Not even the German nanny I had when I was four cooked anything like that.
And our regular cook must’ve had fat free tattooed on the inside of her eyelids.
If parties were catered, they were busy serving Parisian pastries and other crap that was too tiny to be a mouthful.
My mom thought Paris was the end all, be all of food. ”
KC turned to gape at him, and I was probably doing something similar because I snapped my mouth closed when pink brushed the tips of Ren’s ears.
“So, you were, like, actually rich?” I asked, leaning forward.
He shrugged a shoulder. “No were about it. I’m a trust fund baby.”
“You’re like, rich rich? How did I not know this?” My body felt weird and floaty.
KC grunted in agreement, but I guess his dad had cash, too, in order to afford their nice place.
“Barber doesn’t exactly know the good table manners,” I said, scowling. “You’re not messing with me, are you?”
“Luke chose not to be a part of all that,” Ren said, dead serious. “If you backed him into a corner and his life depended on it, he could probably remember which fork to use for which food. Mom wouldn’t have it any other way.”
KC and I shared a long look. Was the holiday bullshit cracking his brain?
“Um,” I said.
Awkwardness loomed over us as Ren’s mouth settled into a firm line. Did he share more than he was comfortable with?
“That’s cool. Oh yeah. Food. That’s what we were talking about. Well, Mom usually has a veggie tray and healthy stuff, too, if we’re munching. She is a mom.”
KC settled back against his seat and sank low. “I don’t want to think about it too much today.”
Ren cleared his throat. “We’ll tell her we have plans for dinner.”
KC growled and smacked blindly in his direction, which was something I would do, not him. “Why don’t we play it by ear?” That was the closest he’d come to snapping at us in a long while.
My stomach sank. “Uh, yeah. There’s a chance we’ll get in a big fight before meal plans can be made anyway.” I drummed my hands on my thighs. “Especially if my dad is still there.”
Ren turned to look at me but went back to watching the road when KC touched the wheel. It occurred to me then that Ren was driving the Jeep. I’d just gotten so used to him always driving that which vehicle we were in hadn’t sunk in.
“Hey! I thought you didn’t cheat on Shakira.” I slapped his shoulder, and he glared grumpily back at me.
“It’s icy. Can’t risk her now that her paint is perfect.”
“Aw!” KC grinned at me. “He doesn’t want to make more work for you.”
“Anywaaaay,” Ren said loudly, giving us no choice except to change the subject. “If you want to leave for any reason, we’ll go. If your dad so much as fucking gives you the stink eye, I’ll punch his teeth in.”
With that dire announcement, he turned the wheel, and I was startled to realize he was pulling the Jeep into the driveway of Mom’s cottage.
It was still very familiar, but in that way of something that holds good memories, not something that’s home.
My heart fluttered. I wasn’t sure when Ren’s apartment had officially moved into my heart as home.
Smoke wafted from the chimney, Christmas-card picturesque. Mom had tastefully decorated everything outside. There were red and green lights lining the eaves and windows, and large bulbs bracketed the walkway, making the snow mounded over them glow different colors.
“Wow.” KC leaned forward, gaze shooting to the Christmas tree displayed in the front windows. “She really goes all out.”
“Ugh.” I unbuckled. “I wonder how she did the lights along the roof? I hope she made Dad do it. She shouldn’t be on ladders.”
“Because she’s old?” KC frowned over his shoulder at me. “She isn’t that old, is she?”
“Because she’s pregnant.” I froze as soon as the words were out of my mouth and it was my turn to get stared at by my boyfriends.
“What?” KC pulled off his hat and held it like he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to throw it at me or not. “Seriously?”
“When the hell did you find that out?” Ren slowly shook his head. “You just told us you started patching things up with your mom and wanted to do the holiday thing with her.”
“Last week. The first time we talked.” I got twitchy when they barely blinked.
KC whistled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
I rubbed my hands along my thighs, then sighed. “You weren’t doing well.”
KC twisted himself around and reached back to grab my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Who’s the daddy?” Ren’s sour tone made it clear he’d already solved the mystery.
I opened my door. “The baby will be a full sibling.”
KC’s eyes widened as I hopped out into the cold and took a deep, cleansing breath, hoping to wash away the anger and sadness burrowing into my guts like a feral rodent.
I started toward the door, but Mom opened it.
She was wearing a Christmas green sweater and a long red skirt that almost covered the tips of her red-and-white striped socks.
“Hey! Nice to see everybody!” she said brightly, motioning us inside fast. She firmly closed the door behind us.
She’d gotten the coatrack out at some point since I was home last, and we filled it with our winter gear.
She’d added an extra mat for all the boots, too, so she must’ve known—or hoped—I wouldn’t change my mind about coming.
When I was done, my attention focused on her belly. Too late, I noticed the guys doing the same thing. I smacked them, but the damage was done as Mom dropped her hands to her midsection.
She laughed, a nervous titter. “I guess my news traveled. Yep, there’s a baby in here. It’s about the size of a tadpole and looks like one, too. I don’t suggest Googling images.” The way her smile trembled on her lips stabbed my heart. Hell, I was the world’s biggest jerk.
I opened my arms, and she dove forward. She wasn’t much shorter than me, but I felt more like the adult as she sagged against me. I hugged her hard.
“It’s okay, Mom.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and I hated the sound of tears in her voice.
“We did this on the phone. It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything else.”
A ding from the direction of the kitchen made her jump back a step, and I had no choice except to let her go. “Uh, come on, boys. I have to pull out cookies.” Talking about sugary treats gave my brain permission to wallow in the sweet and spicy scent wafting around us.
“Is that gingerbread? My favorite!” I took off after her through the pleasantly toasty living room and past the softly crackling fire to the bliss of the kitchen.
The dishwasher was humming, a sound I always loved because it meant she’d been cooking.
She pulled a cookie sheet out of the oven and dropped it on the stovetop, then slid another one inside in a seamless move perfected over many holidays.
“Yes! I thought we could make some cookies before dinner. Unfortunately, I’ve been sick in the mornings from my tadpole, so I got a deli platter.
I hope no one is too disappointed.” She smiled around at us, but the furrow on her brow tugged at my heart.
Did she really think we would go home over subpar food?
KC swooped in for the rescue with one of his wide smiles. “That sounds wonderful, Darla.”
“Oh!” She spun toward Ren. “The first time I met you was such a terrible blur. You can call me Darla, too. My name is Darlene, but no one uses it.” She smiled at Ren, then snuck over to me. “You sure did find a pair of cuties.” Her whisper was anything but.
“Mom!”
KC and Ren snickered.