“She’s got plans,” I automatically reply because I feel the need to keep her away from my family. It’s not that my family is horrible, but they’re a lot to take on. Besides, I’ve no clue how I’d explain the Keaton-Austen situation without coming across like a total douchebag.
“What plans? Selena said she’s an orphan and she isn’t close to her foster parents.”
“She’s having dinner with her friends,” I lie though it’s possibly the truth. We haven’t discussed next weekend, but we need to.
“Send me her number,” Mom says, using that confrontational tone she deploys when she’s determined to get her own way.
“Mom.” I enunciate the word. “Just drop it. I’ll bring her home some other time.”
“I want to extend the invite, Kent. If she declines because she has other plans, that is fine, but I want her to know she is welcome at your home any time.”
“I’ll relay the message,” I lie.
“Nice try.” Mom is pouting. I can visualize her in my head. “But I don’t believe you. Text me her number or I’ll call Keven to retrieve it for me.”
“You don’t play fair.”
“I’ve never pretended to be an angel.”
I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “I’ll invite her, and if she says no, I’ll get her to call you to explain.” There is no other way around it. Mom will not surrender until I do as she wants.
“Excellent. Now, about you and Keaton.”
“Mom, don’t.” I grind my teeth to my molars. “That has nothing to do with you or Dad. Just leave it be.”
“It’s been over two years, Kent! And he’s getting married in June. I expect you to have patched up your differences by then. It’s time, Kent. This isn’t going on any longer. We miss you, and I want everyone to get along again. Please, honey. Please try for me.”
I know I can’t avoid it forever, and maybe I can do this if Presley is with me. Maybe she’ll give me the strength I need to put it behind me and make amends with my brother. I do miss Keaton.
“I’ll try.” It’s as much as I can promise.
“Thank you, honey.”
“Will Whitney be at Easter dinner?” I ask because I’ll need to warn Presley if she plans on coming.
“Not this year. It’s their mom’s turn to have them for Easter dinner, so it will just be Adam joining us.”
Relief threads through me. That makes it easier. “Okay. Let me go talk to Presley.”
“Goodbye, love. See you next weekend.”
I hang up, pushing off the wall when a familiar face slips out from the shadows.
“Kennedy.”
“Jet.”
“You keeping a low profile or are you buying someplace else?” he asks.
“I’m cutting back.” I haven’t popped anything since Presley and I had our chat, but I’m still smoking weed on the weekend. She doesn’t appear to mind that.
Jet barks out a laugh. “Whatever you say, man.”
“I’ll take some weed.” My supply is running low. “And some pills,” I add, knowing I will need something stronger to take the edge off next weekend.
We conduct our business and part ways, and I head back into the bar to ask Presley if she wants to have Easter Sunday dinner at Chez Kennedy.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
