“Hey there, Mrs. Nicholls.” He grinned. “I walked up and saw Sal stuck, hanging from one of the gutters. Naturally, I saved the day.”
I cut him a glance. Nice how he forgot to mention he was the reason I’d been stuck in the first place.
“Sounds like history repeating itself,” Mom said.
“Yeah,” he replied, “except no one got injured this time.”
I rolled my eyes. “It was second grade. You were bigger than me. What’d you expect?”
Becks raised a brow. “You said you’d catch me.”
“Whatever, I didn’t see anyone else volunteering.” I’d tried to save him, too. I just hadn’t been as successful. “If I hadn’t come along and talked you down, you might’ve been trapped on those monkey bars for hours.”
“You said—”
“And,” I added, “I ended up with a broken arm after you nearly squashed me.”
“You know I’ve always felt bad about that,” Becks mumbled.
“Well, there you go,” I nodded. “I’ve always felt bad about breaking your fall instead of catching you like I said I would. We’re even.”
“Even,” Becks agreed, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
Mom, who’d been watching the exchange, sighed.
Becks and I looked at her.
“What, it’s a great story,” Mom said, wearing a dreamy expression. “You meet when you’re young, become best friends, and then fall in love? I’m telling you it doesn’t get much better than that. I hope you’ll take care of my girl, Becks.”
“Mom,” I muttered, embarrassed.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Nicholls.” Becks reached for my hand, and I gave it without a thought. Gazing lovingly into my eyes, he said, “I will.”
Man, he was good.
I would’ve applauded the Oscar-worthy performance, but instead I smiled as he winked. We’d get through the cookout just fine so long as Becks kept that up.
Mom had called Mrs. Kent to have Becks drive us over (I swear, she had to be the one I got all my sneakiness from). The entire Kent Clan was there when we arrived, and the three oldest boys met us at the door.
Let the games begin, I thought, holding tight to Becks’s hand.
He squeezed mine back.
“Martha,” Clayton fairly squealed as he saw my mother. He reached out to take one of the trays, flipped back the foil and put a hand to his heart. “Macadamia Nut, my favorite. Tell me, would you ever consider dating a younger man?”
Leonard Kent, the oldest, stepped in. “Stop hogging her,” he said, flashing a winning smile. “Hey Martha, how’s it going?”
Mom laughed. “It’s going just fine. Oh and Leo, there’s something for you, Ollie and Thad here, too.”
At the sound of his name, Oliver poked his head out, smiled at Mom and grabbed his tray of peanut butter cookies. “Thanks, Martha. You’re the best.”
Every single one of the Kent brothers was in love with my mother.
This should’ve bothered me, but it didn’t.
“Sally Spitz,” Leo said squinting, “I think you’re even prettier than when last I saw you. What the heck are you dating this guy for?”
Becks grunted.
Ollie spoke through a mouthful of cookie. “Yeah, Sally, what’s the deal? I thought you and young Baldwin were strictly hands off. When’d you guys decide to become kissing buddies?”
And that was only the start.
The jabs kept coming.
The brothers surrounded us as we sat on the loveseat in the living room. Becks wore a tight-lipped grin, and I was left to field the questions. By that point Mom had made her way into the kitchen with Mrs. Kent, for which I was thankful. There were some things I just didn’t want her to hear—like question one.
Leo: “I hear you and Becks got caught necking in his room. He any good?”
Me (flushed): “He’s magnificent.”
Ollie: “Oh yeah? So, when’s the honeymoon gonna be?”
Me: “Undecided.”
Clayton: “You’ll name one of your kids after me, right?”
Me: “You wish.”
Clayton: “Ah, come on Sally.”
Me: “No.”
Thad: “What about me? Thaddeus the Fifth sounds pretty darn good.”
Me: “Not on your life.”
No way was I naming my child Thaddeus. All of the Kent brothers were named after uncles; it was tradition, and both Mr. and Mrs. Kent had a long line of siblings to choose from. That’s how Becks got saddled with his tongue twister. They knew he was going to be their last, and so every name that hadn’t already been assigned got dropped on him.
Becks was looking more and more tense, enduring every snicker, every skeptical look, until he finally jumped up and said, “Who’s up for a game?”