CHAPTER TEN #2
“Kenley,” she says my name in a way that prompts me to stop what I’m doing and look up at her.
When she’s sure she has my attention, she smiles and spells it out for me.
“You suffered through years of a shit marriage to shield your kid from being subjected to the hurt and abusive manipulation you knew her father was capable of. You played the long game. And you won. As much as anyone could have in your situation. And then you went about rebuilding your life from scratch, all the while maintaining a happy, healthy, and secure home for Sloan. You didn’t date.
You didn’t even want to look at the possibilities of dating if all you were going to find were dead-end one-nightstands and more douchebags.
You refused to settle so you went it alone.
” She leans in a little closer, grinning.
“If you weren’t holding out for a fucking rock god, what the hell were you waiting for?
” She laughs. “Girl, I’m not even a little surprised this is the plot twist your love life was headed for.
Embrace it. You deserve it.” She puts the twisty tie back on the bag of bread.
Probably to keep me from making more sandwiches.
“And I don’t mean for any dumb cliché reasons either.
I mean you deserve a man who has the same hunger in his soul to chase his dreams. One who leans into his artistic side the way you do, fueling his passion and sharing it at the same time.
I’ve heard the man sing and I’ve read his lyrics, that man knows his own heart.
And Kenley, you deserve that too.” She takes the mustard from my hand and puts the cap back on it.
“You’ve had enough shit reality. Go live the fucking fantasy.
Together you sure as hell look it. Like you’re a goddamn love song come to life. ”
I don’t even know what part of that speech triggered the tears, but I’m busy swiping at my face, smiling like an idiot because I think I just might decide to believe she’s right.
“He is kind of amazing,” I blubber, still trying to get it together.
“And I really do think he’s the reason I was waiting.
I just always felt like something big was out there, something I wouldn’t question because it would be undeniable when it showed up. ”
“Babe, something big definitely showed up,” she confirms, crooked smile and a nod backing her up. “Now then, can we talk about how? Because I’ve got some single friends wasting their time on Tinder and I’d really love a good story to help sell them on holding out for the motherfucking magic!”
I laugh. Sila never holds back. Not the crass.
Or the truth. “We can talk about how,” I finally give in.
Then, as soon as I commit to it, the story just spills right out of me.
Every detail from Arizona showing up out of the blue to Knox putting my ex in his place, free flows from my lips until I wind up back in the present and the current spot in our story.
Here. Fishing. With my brother and his family.
By the time I’m done, we don’t have to worry about serving lunch to anyone. They’re all starting to track back to the cabin in search of the food they were promised a good hour ago.
I notice Jess and Brianna are still doing the staring and hushed whispers thing every time Knox winds up in their line of vision and decide it’s time to do more than just dip my toe in my new reality.
“Yes, it’s Knox Marley. No, he’s not going to sign any part of your body.
And yes,” I pause to cross the few feet of distance between us and take his hand, “we’re together.
Like, together-together. Like, you can still ogle him at his concerts, but not in private settings like this one, together.
” I look up at him, to make sure we’re on the same page.
He’s grinning from ear to ear. “I already told them all of that.” He tugs me closer, moving his hand from mine so he can wrap his arm around my waste and slide his fingers in my front pocket, anchoring me to his side. “But I think I like hearing you say it even more than I like telling people.”
“You two are going to be real problem for me if you keep it up,” my brother mumbles.
“I’m used to bringing home takeout on random nights and being hailed a romantic hero because I saved dinner.
I have a feeling that’s not going to continue to garner me big praise if Sila keeps being exposed to all of this.
” He gestures wildly with his hands, trying to encompass the two of us.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Sila interjects, moving in beside him and snaking one arm up around his neck. “Did you remember to swing by the deli for fruit and veggie platters like I asked?”
“Absolutely.”
I’m not sure if everyone can tell, but being as he’s my little brother, I know just based on the way his left eyebrow quirked when he said it, he nearly forgot.
“My hero,” Sila swoons.
Then we all laugh at Devin’s expense before our picnic lunch takes over and things begin to feel just normal. No more whispering. No more staring. And no more pretending I’m not totally falling for Knox Marley, Rock God.
We stay out on the water until it’s nearly sunset, and while I lose interest in fishing early on, Sloan stays committed to the very end, adding her fair share of catches to the overall collection.
They’ll all go home with my brother tonight and he’ll clean them up, filet and freeze them until the next big cookout at his place.
Knox hangs in there with her for quite a while, but he doesn’t have nearly the same luck she does.
By the time we’re back at the marina saying our goodbyes to everyone, it feels like this was just any other Sunday, out on the boat, enjoying family and friends.
It’s both comforting and scary but given my decision to lean into faith and let go of fear, I do my best to dwell in the natural way this man is blending in with all my most favorite people.
“Can we get pizza for dinner?” Sloan asks before she’s even buckled up.
I’m in the driver’s seat again for a change, but it’s Knox who answers. “Really? Pizza after ice cream and cold cuts sandwiches? Doesn’t your body want a homecooked meal right about now?”
She shrugs. “Not really. My body likes pizza. Especially the stuffed crust sort.”
I roll my eyes. “You just like everything that’s eighty percent cheese.”
“Cheese is life.” She pumps her hand in the air several times.
“Well, so are vegetables. Which we’re eating. At home. From our kitchen.” I watch in the rearview mirror as her face forms a slight scowl before she lights up again. “You just remembered I picked up everything we need for veggie lasagna, didn’t you?”
“Yep.” She grins. “Including fresh bread for roasting with garlic butter. And cheese .”
“Y’all are making me hungry just listening,” Knox remarks. “Let’s get out of here already and get home so we can make dinner.”
I don’t say anything else. I just drive. And smile. Like, until my face hurts.
The drive doesn’t take too long, thanks to non-stop green lights and limited traffic on a Sunday evening, and so, we’re pulling into the driveway before we know it.
Unlike our early morning arrival just a few hours ago, this time we’re not greeted by the sleepy silence of a lazy Sunday morning. Both my parents are walking out to meet us as soon as I pull in.
Either my brother tipped them off, or they caught sight of Knox coming and going this morning because neither one of them looks all that surprised to see I have a man in tow as we all load out of the truck.
“Have a good day out on the water?” my mother asks, coming to a stop at the end of the carport just a few feet from us. Also, it was clearly my brother who spilled the beans.
“We did.” I look back over my shoulder to find Knox already standing right behind me.
“I’m glad you guys are out here. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.
” I turn to indicate the man I think may be the very man I’ve waited my whole life to introduce to my parents.
“Ma, Javier., this is Knox.” I smile at him.
Because I literally can’t help myself. Then I turn back to face my parents.
“Knox, these are my parents, Jacinda and Javier.” Huh.
Hearing everyone’s names out loud, I’m only now noticing that Knox and I are doing the same matchy-matchy thing with our initials my parents have going on.
The very matchy-matchy sort of thing I’d ordinarily find reason to mock for its unbearably high ‘cute’ factor, but which I now suddenly find, well, cute, in a ‘meant to be’ kind of fashion. Gross .
My stepdad moves forward to shake hands with Knox. “Knox. That’s an interesting name.”
“Thanks. My parents had to name a bunch of us back-to-back, and I’ve always appreciated they stayed creative the whole way through.
” After their man-to-man moment, Knox moves on to my mom with a hug, which both surprises me while still seeming the obvious choice.
Whatever they say to each other is muffled by the embrace but if my mother’s glossy eyes and emotionally loaded smile are any indication, he’s successfully won her over already.
“I made tea,” my mother announces. It probably seems out of the blue to Knox, but it’s pretty standard for my mother. She’s always making tea. And she’s always looking to share. “Why don’t you all come on in.”
“Sounds great.” Knox wraps his arm around my waist as we start for the door.
Sloan is already ahead of us, rushing to catch up to her grandfather. “Are there still donuts?”
“You had ice cream,” I call out from behind her.
“She needs something with her tea,” my stepfather reasons.
“How about butter cookies,” my mother offers. “They’re barely sweet enough to be a cookie. More like a cracker. To have with tea.”
“Right.” I mean, who can argue with logic like that? “She can have one tea cracker.”
“Deal!” Then Sloan swings open the front door and dashes inside, probably to go find the largest fake cracker in the bunch.
“Do you even like tea?” I whisper as we near the entry.
“Who doesn’t like tea?” he counters. “I love tea. Drink it all the time on the road to soothe my throat and keep my vocals strong.”
That actually makes sense. “Then you and my mother are going to get along great. She’s been an avid tea drinker since I was little and she became close friends with an English woman who called out, “Is the kettle on?” every time she walked into our house.
Until eventually, the answer was always yes.
” I don’t know why I just told him that.
Except I seem to have a compelling need to tell him all sorts of shit about myself whether he cares to hear it or not.
And he does, oddly enough, seem to care.
The visit over tea goes smoothly and much like his previous interactions with my family, Knox blends in seamlessly with my parents.
While Sloan would be more than happy to keep filling up on cookies, my stomach is starting to beg for real food.
So, after we’ve emptied our cups, Knox and I excuse ourselves to head back to Frieda and my own kitchen while Sloan stays behind to continue her visit.
“It’s the best part of living here,” I tell him as we make our way across the yard, “how much time she gets to spend with her grandparents.”
“I bet.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and together we start walking up the small pathway to the next front door. “So, I guess it’s just you and me in the kitchen then.”
“You cook?” I guess I’m not really surprised. But now I am curious.
“I’m a grown-ass man who’s been living on his own since he was eighteen and likes to eat. Yes, I cook,” he says dryly. “I know how to do laundry, too.”
“Dishes?” I ask. Since we seem to be doing a thing here.
“Yeah. Those, too.” He holds the door for me to go in. “Though we should make use of a dishwasher if you have one. I’m not very good at doing them by hand.”
“Noted.” I don’t have a dishwasher. Haven’t had one for years, not the whole time I was married.
It was one of those things my ex liked making me feel inadequate about.
Every once in a blue moon, he’d come home after work and decide to do the last round of dishes.
Then he’d make a big thing about it, making sure I was appropriately grateful, since I clearly hadn’t gotten around to doing them yet, like those same dishes had been sitting in the sink all day and hadn’t just accumulated repeatedly after every meal I made from scratch and fed our daughter from breakfast straight through to dinner.
Didn’t matter that I knew I’d done dishes three different times already.
Hell, it didn’t matter if I told him. Somehow, he always managed to make me feel like my kitchen was a disastrous mess and it only ever saw the light of redemption when he came around to cast his superior glow upon it.
Anyway. I still don’t have a dishwasher, but I don’t mind. Even if I had one, I doubt I’d use it. Just to prove that I can keep up with the dishes myself.
It’s another bit of bad wiring in my brain, leftover from the years I was married.
I’ll get to it eventually.