Chapter 26 #2
They merged onto the highway, and she felt him relax slightly. His thumb traced circles on her thigh, his eyes moving between her and the road like he was ready to grab the wheel at any moment.
“Where we going anyway?”
“You’ll see.”
“Ken.”
“What? You get to surprise me all the time. It’s my turn.”
He was quiet for a moment, watching her drive his car with the same focus she brought to everything. “You look good behind the wheel.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Sexy as hell, actually.” His hand squeezed her thigh. “Might let you drive more often.”
“Might?”
“We’ll see how you do on the highway first.”
About forty-five minutes in, she pulled off at a rest stop.
“What’s wrong?” He was immediately alert. “You okay? The baby?”
“I have to pee, Ro. Relax.” She put the car in park. “Your son is using my bladder as a squeeze toy.”
He exhaled, rubbed his hand over his face. “You scared me.”
“You worry too much, I’m fine. We’re fine.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right back. You want anything from inside?”
“Nah, I’m good. Just... be careful.”
“It’s a rest stop bathroom, not a warzone.”
“Ken.”
She laughed and climbed out, waddling toward the building. When she came back ten minutes later with a bottle of water and a soft pretzel with cheese, he was standing outside the car, arms crossed.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m driving the rest of the way.”
“Rolani—”
“You did good, baby. You proved your point. But you’ve been on your feet all morning cooking, and now you’re driving, and I can see your ankles starting to swell.” He took the keys from her hand gently. “Let me take care of you while you take care of me. That’s how this works.”
She wanted to argue. She’d had this whole vision of being in control for the day, of giving him the full experience of being taken care of. But her back was starting to ache, and he wasn’t wrong about her ankles.
“Fine,” she pouted. “But only because I love you.”
“I know.” He opened the passenger door for her, helped her in, made sure she was comfortable before going around to the driver’s side. “Now, where am I going?”
She sighed, the surprise officially ruined. “Bowling Green. The Corvette Museum.”
He stopped with his hand on the gear shift. “For real?”
“For real.”
“Ken.” He turned to look at her fully, his face lit up before he could stop it. “How you even know about that?”
“You told me. That night at the ranch when we were stargazing. You said you’d always wanted to go but never made time.” She shrugged like it was nothing, but her heart was full watching his face. “So I’m making time.”
He leaned over, kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. “I love you.”
“You better.”
He laughed and pulled back onto the highway, his hand finding hers on the center console.
The museum was everything she’d hoped it would be.
The moment they walked through the doors, Rolani transformed he became animated in a way she rarely saw outside their private moments.
He moved from car to car with the same intensity he brought to his work, reading every placard, studying every detail, explaining the history and engineering with such passion that it made her fall in love with him all over again.
“Look at this,” he said, stopping in front of a 1953 Corvette, the first production model. “This is where it started, baby. Three hundred hand-built cars. Polo White with red interior. Straight-six engine.”
She stood beside him, one hand on her lower back, watching his face more than the car. “You really love this stuff.”
“This is history. American muscle. Innovation.” He moved closer to the display, eyes tracking every curve. He went quiet. She slipped her hand into his and held on. They wandered for almost an hour before he noticed her shifting her weight from foot to foot, rubbing her back.
“A’ight, we’re sitting down.” He steered her toward a bench near the Sinkhole exhibit.
“I’m fine—”
“Ken, sit.” He guided her down gently, then crouched in front of her, hands on her knees. “You’ve been on your feet too long. Rest for a minute.”
“It’s your birthday. I’m supposed to be—”
“You’re supposed to be taking care of yourself and my son.” His voice was firm but gentle. “That’s how you take care of me. Understand?”
She wanted to argue, but his hands were already on her swollen ankles, rubbing gently, and it felt too good to protest.
“When we get home, you’re putting your feet up for the rest of the night,” he said.
“We still have dinner.”
“What?”
She smiled. “There’s one more surprise. But it’s back home at Luther’s.”
“Damn baby, there’s more?” His expression broke open, gratitude, emotion, all the things he usually kept buried. He pressed a kiss to her palm.
“I told you. You deserve to be celebrated.”
He stood, helped her up, and pulled her into a hug that was more about holding on than letting go. “Thank you,” he said against her hair. “For all of it.”
“Always.”
The drive back was easier. She dozed off somewhere around the halfway point, his hand on her thigh, the hum of the engine lulling her to sleep. When she woke up, they were pulling into the parking lot at Luther’s.
The restaurant was closed—a sign on the door said “Private Event”—but the lights were on inside. Through the window, she could see Robin moving around the kitchen, Monroe setting tables, soft music playing.
“They really did all this,” Rolani said quietly.
“They love you.” She took his hand. “We all do.”
Inside, Robin came out of the kitchen wiping his hands on a towel, grinning.
“Happy birthday, bro.” He pulled Rolani into a hug that lasted longer than usual, saying more than words could. “I know I ain’t the best at saying shit, but... thank you. For everything. For holding me down. For taking care of my daughter. For being there when I couldn’t be.”
Rolani’s jaw tightened, and Kennedi saw him fighting to keep it together. “You ain’t gotta thank me, man. That’s what family does.”
“I know. But I wanted to.” Robin stepped back, gestured around the restaurant. “So tonight, I’m cooking for you. Whatever you want. I already got steaks ready, but if you want something else—”
“Steaks are perfect.” Rolani’s voice was rough. “This is perfect.”
Monroe bounded over, hugging her uncle tight. “Happy birthday, Uncle Ro! I helped with the decorations. Auntie Ken gave me the vision.”
“You did good, baby girl.” He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”
Kennedi stood back and watched them—Rolani with his arm around Monroe, Robin heading back to the kitchen, the restaurant warm with candlelight and the smell of good food.
She hadn’t fallen in love with Rolani. She’d fallen into all of this—Sunday dinners, the group chats, the inside jokes, the messy, beautiful chaos of people who loved each other through everything.
Robin being gone, Monroe needing guidance, Rolani carrying it all on his shoulders.
And now Robin was home, Monroe was thriving, and Rolani was finally letting himself breathe.
She got to be part of that. Got to witness the healing, the rebuilding, the joy.
That was the gift. Not the ring, not the house, not even the baby growing inside her. It was this—being loved by people who didn’t have to choose her but did anyway.
They sat at the best table in the restaurant. Robin brought out course after course—Caesar salad, steaks cooked exactly right, loaded baked potatoes, roasted asparagus. Everything was perfect, made with love.
“When did you learn to cook like this?” Rolani joked, cutting into his steak.
“Had some time to practice,” Robin said with a half-smile that held weight they all understood. “Figured I’d put it to use.”
Kennedi watched Rolani eat, watched him relax into the evening, watched him let himself be taken care of for once. The man who held everyone else up was finally letting someone hold him.
This was what she’d wanted—for him to feel seen, appreciated, loved the way he made everyone else feel.
When dessert came—a chocolate lava cake with a single candle—Monroe insisted on singing “Happy Birthday” at full volume while Kennedi harmonized badly and Robin recorded the whole thing.
“Make a wish!” Monroe said.
Rolani looked around the table—at his brother, his niece, his fiancée with her hand on her belly—and shook his head.
“I already got everything I want,” he said.
“Uncle Ro, make a wish.”
He closed his eyes for a beat, then blew out the candle. When he opened them again, he was looking at Kennedi.
“Thank you,” he said, quiet enough that it was just for her. “For today. For the museum, for this, for...” He trailed off, reached for her hand. “For seeing me.”
“Always,” she said simply. “I’m always gonna see you, Ro.”
Later that night, after they’d said goodbye to Robin and Monroe, after they’d driven home with his hand in hers, after she’d finally put her feet up like he’d demanded, they lay in bed together in the dark.
His hand rested on her belly, feeling RJ shift and kick beneath her skin. The house was quiet, a silence that used to make her anxious but now felt like peace.
“Best birthday I ever had,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah.” He was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on her stomach. “I got my brother home. My niece is happy. My girl planned a whole day for me. And my son is healthy and growing.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “What more could I ask for?”
“A Corvette museum in your backyard?”
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Nah. This is enough. You’re enough.”
“I love you, Rolani.”
“I love you too, Kennedi.” He kissed her, slow and sweet. “Now get some sleep. You did too much today.”
“It was worth it.”
“I know.” His arms tightened around her. “But tomorrow, you’re resting. No arguments.”
“Fine.”
“I mean it, Ken.”
“I said fine.” She smiled against his chest. “Bossy ass.”
“You love it.”
She did.