Someone to Love(89)

“Kendall?” Her mother makes a face that suggests she should explain a few things.

“Oh…” Kenny swallows hard before taking a seat next to me. “Cruise and I are…um just friends.”

Friends? I’m not sure I was expecting my demotion to sink so low.

“Now, now—don’t be shy,” Mom sings like a canary. “These two are indivisible with injustice for all.” She gives a hoot into her wine. Just the thought of what might come next, makes me want to crawl under the table and bring Kenny with me. “You can practically see the steam rising out of the guest house the way they parade around.”

Nice touch.

I glance over at Kenny with an apology written across the disgruntled look on my face.

Her cheeks have entered tomato territory, but it’s her lusciously swollen lips, the perfect curves hedging out of her sweater that make me want to whisk her away from here in the event my mother has another live grenade stashed in her arsenal. Who knew Kenny would need protecting from my mother, of all people.

“Parade around?” Karen shoots a look to Kenny. She looks more amused than angry, although to be fair, I don’t know her. She could be on the cusp of a full-on rage for all I know.

“Come clean, Kenny.” Molly joins in on the fun as she turns her attention to Kenny’s mother. “She told me a few weeks back I’m gonna be an aunt.”

A collective gasp circles the table—Kenny’s being the most dramatic.

Fuck. Leave it to Mom and Molly to tag team Kenny in front of her poor, unsuspecting mother. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hopped the next plane to L.A. after this fiasco.

“So not true.” Kenny spits it out with venom aimed right at Mol. “Nobody is going to be an aunt.” She gives a nervous laugh to her mother.

How the hell does Molly know about that?

Mom clears her throat. “Excuse my daughter. She’s prone to exaggeration. They are not having a baby. Isn’t that right?” She looks to the two of us, and we deny the bullshit Molly decided to confetti the table with. “They’re simply engaged.”

“Kendall!” Karen’s face lights up like a flare.

Shit.

It looks like my mother and sister have managed to inflict both Jordan women with third degree facial burns. Although, according to Kenny, her mother has long since bypassed the Jordan phase of her life.

I look to Kenny, urging her to deny it if she wants to. She certainly has the opportunity. In the least she could back pedal and say we’re dating, but doesn’t. Instead, she sits there with indistinguishable choking sounds emitting from her throat, reminiscent of earlier this evening. A severe flashback of Kenny writhing over the bed sears through my mind. Not even the fact both our mothers are in the room has the power to kill that fantasy come to life from replaying itself in real time.

I doubt I’ll be fessing up to the fact I’ve never used that “leash” before. That it was a gift from Cal of all people. He gave it to me as a gag gift on my birthday the week before Kenny arrived. He’s been living vicariously through my sexual renaissance from the beginning. It was his way of outfitting me to live out every one of his warped fantasies. Although, in hindsight, this one wasn’t all that warped. It was fan-fucking-tastic, and for damn sure I won’t be sharing any of those details with Cal.

“So it’s true?” Her mother looks from me to her.

“Looks like congratulations are in order.” Dad puts on his bartending hat and pours us each a much-needed glass of wine, Molly included, and she guzzles it down before any kind of toast has a chance to commence. “To young love.” Dad raises his glass while looking directly at Kenny’s poor unsuspecting mother. “May we never forget the bittersweet fruit of its vine.”

We? Bittersweet?

Karen raises her glass, and they exchange sad smiles with the pretense of joy. I get the feeling Dad was a player long before I ever walked onto the field.

Dinner goes off mostly without a hitch, other than the fact Molly’s cooking leaves something to be desired. The food is cold and flavorless, much like the relationship I’ve had with my father these past twenty-four years. I’m open to seeing that change, though. Kenny scraped clean all of the sludge that once lingered inside me.

“So, have you thought about a wedding?” Mom asks, stoking the flames.

“I’m sure they’re not at that stage yet.” Karen shoots a look to Kenny that suggests we’d better not be. She moves her attention to me, cold and steely. “Cruise? How do you plan on supporting my daughter?”

“Supporting?” Kenny scoffs. “I’m sorry this isn’t nineteen fifty-five. Cruise doesn’t have to support me at all.”