“And why can’t you shower when it’s storming?” I ask, not following her.
She shrugs and slumps into a chair by the fireplace. “I don’t know. Pap always says not to shower or be on the phone in a storm. Doesn’t make any sense to me, but he also texts me his name after every message, so there’s that.”
I snort. “He does?”
“Yeah.Love, P. OrCall me back, P. OrDid you want some fried potatoes for supper? P.” She shrugs again. “Like, yeah, Pap. I can see the number and your face when you text me. It’s on top of the screen. There’s no need to identify yourself.”
Something about that is ridiculously adorable, and I can’t help but giggle. Kennedy, although not as amused as I am, laughs too.
She snuggles down into the chair. “What are you watching?”
“This woman went missing for fifteen years, and the only clue about where she went was a yellow bandanna next to her cell phone on the side of a road. Long story and I’m not sure if it’s relevant yet or a red herring. I’m ninety-nine percent sure her husband did it, but the investigators seem to think it was the neighbor. So who knows.”
She hums.
“What do you like to watch?” I ask.
“Nothing, really. I YouTube nineties music videos. Sometimes I’ll watch something if everyone talks about it, but I usually don’t like it enough to become obsessed.”
“Nineties videos, huh?”
“Yeah,” she says.
“Did you know your uncle Gavin hasn’t seen the ‘Opposites Attract’ video by Paula Abdul?”
“What?That’s a classic.”
“I know.”
“I’m a big Paula fan. She doesn’t get enough clout from my generation.”
“Agreed,” I say, impressed with her stance on this important fact.
We sit in silence for a few minutes before my stomach growls. Kennedy looks at me as I press my hand to my tummy.
“Hungry?” I ask her.
“I’m always hungry.”
A kid after my heart. “Let’s go make a snack.”
“Who did your nails?” she asks as we walk to the kitchen. “That color is the bomb.”
I hold up a hand and inspect the shitty job I did before bed last night. “I did them, and this is not my best work. Please don’t judge once you see them in the light.”
“What color is that?”
“Offset,” I say, grinning at the memory of the night we came up with that name. “We named it after … Well, I can’t tell you that because you’re a minor. But someday, I will, if you want to know.”
She slides onto a barstool on the island. “What do you meanyou named it?”
I find the peanut butter, caramel, and mini cookies I bought at the grocery yesterday. Then I find the apples.
“I mean, I named it,” I say, pulling out the cutting board they use for veggies. “Well, I can’t say that. It wasn’t just me. But the team worked late one night, and we might’ve had some wine in plastic cups, and we came up with Offset.” I hold up a hand. “It didn’t make the cut for fall last year, but I snagged a few samples because I loved it so much.”
Kennedy’s brows pull together, and the dimple in her chin, like her dad and uncles, shines.
I take out a knife and begin to peel the apples. “You do know that I worked for Iyala Nails, right?”
