“How very thoughtful, these are lovely.” Mom takes the flowers and wine. “Thank you. It’s nice to finally meet you outside of the news outlets and the hockey games.”
I give my mom a look. She ignores it. Phillip runs his fingers down the back of my arm.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’m happy to answer them.”
Mom gives him her practicedyes you willsmile.
My stomach churns with fresh nerves as she guides us through the living room to the kitchen.
Fenna is waiting expectantly, and Ties has his phone in his hand. He slips it in his pocket as we enter the room.
“Hey.” Phillip raises a hand. “You must be Fenna and Ties.”
“You’re Flip Madden,” Fenna says.
Ties elbows her.
“What?” Fenna rolls her eyes at our brother. “He is.”
“You don’t have to use his last name,” Ties mutters.
“Everyone does it with Connor Grace,” Phillip offers.
Dad comes in, wearing an apron that reads GRILLING IS MY SUPERPOWER. “Tally-Bear, when did you and my personal PR nightmare arrive?” I think he means for it to come out as a joke, but his tone lacks humor.
“Why don’t we pour some drinks and get comfortable in the living room?” Mom suggests.
“I’ll open the wine!” And possibly just add a straw to the bottle.
“There’s a bottle of white in the fridge,” Mom says.
Phillip opens the red while I retrieve the white wine, and we fill glasses and move to the living room.
Fenna seats herself in the chair closest to Phillip. “You’re thirty. I read that in an article the other day.”
To his credit, he doesn’t even flinch. “That’s correct.”
I have no idea where she’s going with this since Phillip’s age hasn’t been a secret the entire time we’ve been dating.
“And you were married when you were Tally’s age,” she tacks on.
“Fen,” I caution.
“What? It’s true.” Fenna leans in. “Why did you get divorced, anyway?”
“Seriously, Fen.” I wish I could die.
“It’s okay. I know everyone has questions.” He stretches his arm across the back of the couch. “I thought my ex and I wanted the same things out of life, but I was wrong.”
Before Fenna can lob another question at Phillip, Mom interjects. “Fenna, honey, why don’t you set up your cello in the music room so you can play for us before dinner?”
“Okay!”
“Ties, help her please,” Mom directs.
Ties sighs but leaves the room.
“Fenna can be quite direct,” Mom explains. “I’m sure this is a sensitive subject, but I’m also sure you understand that as Tally’s parents, we have some concerns about the secretive nature of your previous marriage.”
