The one she uses when she meets new people is the polar opposite. That one’s a trepidatious, closed-mouth smile. Cautious and forced, it’s a barrier she uses when she doesn’t know if she can trust the person. It’s the way she looked at me before she got into my tow truck the first time we met.
Then there’s my favorite smile of all—the one she seems to reserve just for me. Or I like to think she does anyway. I don’t really know her well enough to come to that conclusion, but a man can dream. I’m not even sure she’s aware of how differentit is from the others. It’s a gentle smile. A total relaxation of her face followed by a tender, slow blooming of her lips that brings out a crease in her right cheek, a wrinkle in the bridge of her nose, and a luminous glint in her eyes. It’s like her eyes, her lips, and her spirit are all smiling at me at once.
I step closer. “Say yes, Kenna.”
Her eyes find mine, and that awesome fucking energy is back, humming between us. A raw, powerful life force that further fuels my desire.
“Say yes,” I mouth in silence.
Amelia is still badgering Kenna in the background when the smile comes out. The smile that melts my goddamn heart.
“Okay,” she says, her expression turning from reverent to playful. “But only if you buy me another one of those croissants.”
“Done.”
Amelia claps and dances around like she’s won the lottery. But I know I’m the real winner in this one.
Christian walks into the room. When he passes me, there’s an overwhelmingly familiar scent that lingers. Heavily. I close my eyes and tip my head back, trying not to laugh as I recognize what’s happening.Ugh. He’s borrowed my cologne. I make a mental note to teach him how less is more.
Kenna must smell it too, because she’s snickering quietly.
I shake my head and smile. Well, like father, like son. I guess we’ve both got it bad.
~ ~ ~
Allie is a genius.
I’m not sure if Kenna realizes that Allie has been topping off her wine all night long. I don’t think Allie is trying to get her drunk. She’s just being a good hostess. But Kennaisgetting drunk. Or at least tipsy. And if I thought I liked sober Kenna,I really, really like this let-your-hair down version of her. She’s smiling, laughing, and talking more than I’ve ever seen.
But is it the wine she’s responding to? Or is it Allie?
The two women got on like sisters the moment we walked through the front door. And don’t even get me started on how Kenna has taken to the twins. It’s like she was born to be a mother. It makes me wonder again what else she does other than be a mom to Amelia.
I think about how she’s been with Christian. With him being a teenager, the dynamic there is totally different. But Kenna has struck the perfect balance between helping him when needed and standing back to let him shine.
Most new acquaintances fall into one of two groups with my son. They either ignore him because they just don’t know how to interact with him. Or they’re overly helpful, thinking he can’t do anything on his own. Kenna seemed to know exactly how to be around him from the very first moment.
Damn, this woman is perfect.
I watch her hold little Alex on her lap, reading to the sleepy toddler as Bug does the same with Alex’s twin sister, Christina.
Then I remember she’s not perfect. Or at least her life isn’t.
She hasn’t let anything slip tonight. Why she left the city. Why she’s living in my basement and not a hotel. Why she pays for everything with cash. Maybe she hasn’t been drinking as much as I thought she was. But none of that really matters to me. Yes, I want to know the answers. But the answers won’t change this deep-rooted feeling inside me. One that has me drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
The twins get put to bed. Amelia, Bug, and Christian settle in to play a video game in the other room. And the four adults top off their drinks and head to the living room.
I don’t miss how Allie holds back Asher to give Kenna her choice of seats. There’s a long, L-shaped couch across from which sit two low-backed chairs. Don’t take one of the chairs.
When Kenna sits on the couch, Allie shoots me a raised-brow look then motions to the place beside her new friend. Who knew my neighbor was such a great wingwoman? I waste no time taking the cushion next to Kenna’s, leaving a respectable amount of distance while still being near enough to smell her intoxicating flowery scent.
Allie and Kenna strike up another conversation. I love how the two are getting on, and I’ve just chronicled a fourth smile—the one she has around Allie. One that tells me she feels safe and comfortable. One that tells me perhaps she needed a friend. Because I get the feeling Kenna doesn’t have many friends.
After a few minutes of Asher and I listening to the women talk about kids and babies, he turns to me and thumbs to the TV. “Want me to turn on the Knicks game?”
It’s not that Asher and I don’t get along. We do. But he’s a businessman married to a millionaire. I’m a blue-collar single dad. Sure, he was a single dad to Bug before marrying Allie, but that’s about the only thing we have in common. And while this isn’t the first time I’ve had dinner at their house, Allie is usually involved in the conversation, keeping it moving right along. My sister, Mia, as Allie’s best friend, comes often when I’m here, which adds yet another buffer.
When Asher and I are on our own, however, we might as well be two teens at a high school dance. Yep, awkward glances around the room and forced conversations to at least appear socially adequate. It usually ends up with us talking about Christian and Bug. One time he cornered me in the kitchen to make sure I’d gone over the birds and the bees with Christian. Apparently it’s not his intention to become a grandfather when he still has toddlers around.
