A Secret for a Secret Page 51

It’s phrased like a question. I respond with the same upturned lilt. “Sure?”

“Great.” My father smiles and rocks back on his heels. “She also invited me to come along too.”

Kingston’s brows lift. “Oh?”

“Are you two okay with that?” my dad asks uncertainly.

“Oh yeah. Totally. It’ll be fun, right, King?” I’m not sure if fun is the word I would use to describe meeting my boyfriend’s parents and having my somewhat overprotective dad tagging along, but if nothing else, it will be an adventure.

Kingston nods, eyes wide. “So fun.”

“Okay. Well, great.” My dad claps his hands together and startles everyone with the noise, including himself. “I’ll run out and grab a bottle of wine or two. And I can meet you there, since I know where you live, King.” He moves toward the door. Pointing a finger at King, he makes some kind of odd clicking sound with his tongue. “You kids play safe.” And then he’s off, with a bounce in his step.

“Sooo . . .” I turn to King, whose expression I’m having trouble reading. “I guess this is happening.”

He nods slowly. “Looks like. Are you nervous?”

I shrug. “Maybe a little.” I don’t think the news has had enough time to sink in for me to process it.

He glances at the clock. “We have a couple hours before we have to head over. I have a few ideas as to how I can keep your mind occupied until we have to go.”


CHAPTER 30


THE KINGSTONS


Queenie

We pull into Kingston’s driveway just after four thirty. My dad was all about getting there early for whatever reason, and I felt weird about him arriving and us not being there, so we left at the same time; however, since Kingston drives like a ninety-year-old on a Sunday, my father is already parked and standing beside his car when we arrive. He keeps checking his hair and he’s wearing a tie, which is probably overly formal, but then my dad sort of likes to dress up.

“Fair warning: my family is a bit . . . off the wall,” King says to me as he puts the car in park.

“You mean compared to you?” Kingston is the least off-the-wall person I’ve ever met. He’s the definition of zen—well, except in the bedroom.

“No, I mean in general. They’re just . . . a lot to handle.”

“Kind of like me?”

“You’re not a lot to handle, Queenie.” His gaze moves over me in a hot sweep. “You’re the perfect amount of chaos, especially when we’re naked.”

“Focus, Kingston. We’re not talking about sex right now; we’re talking about your family.”

“Right. Yeah.” He shakes his head, like he’s clearing it. “They’re just a little . . . excessive.”

“Excessive how?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. You’ll see, though.” He gives my hand a squeeze and then cuts the engine.

I get out of the car before he can open my door for me. And suddenly it’s not me who looks nervous anymore; it’s Kingston.

“You two get stuck at every red light?” my dad asks as we walk up the front steps.

King doesn’t even have a chance to key in the entry code before the door swings open.

“Gerald found your good scotch two hours ago,” Hanna says by way of greeting. “Queenie. Hi! Hello! You’re even more beautiful in person than you are on video chat!”

“Momster.”

“Sorry.” Her nose wrinkles. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m going to apologize in advance for whatever happens this evening.” She pulls me in for a hug and says quietly in my ear, “Just remember that you love Kingston, and it’s not his fault we’re his family.”

“What are you whispering about?” Kingston asks suspiciously.

“Oh nothing!” Hanna releases me from the hug and smiles brightly at Kingston.

Up until this point my dad has been hanging back. He steps up and extends his hand. “Hi, I’m Jake, Queenie’s dad. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“Oh, yes.” Hanna’s eyes move from his face all the way down to his polished dress shoes and back up, slowly. “Hello, Jake.” She slips her fingers into his open, waiting palm. “I’m Hanna, Ryan’s momster . . . I mean sister. I mean mom. I’m actually both. Well, biologically I’m his mother, but we were raised as siblings.” She grimaces. “I am so sorry for that excessive overshare and terrible introduction. There’s a reason I’m not a public speaker and work in an office most of the time.”

My dad laughs and winks. “I can imagine it’s not necessarily the easiest thing to explain.”

“No. Definitely not.”

They’re still shaking hands, staring at each other.

“So . . . should we go in and introduce Queenie and Jake to the rest of the family, or . . .” Kingston trails off.

Hanna drags her gaze away from my dad. “What’s that?”

Kingston motions past her. “We should come inside.”

“Oh! Yes! Of course!” Hanna’s eyes go wide and her cheeks flush pink, but she finally releases my dad’s hand and steps back to let us in.

The noise level in the house grows exponentially as we walk down the hall. Kingston jams his hands in his pockets and blows out a breath, rolling his shoulders back. The first thing I notice when we enter the kitchen is that it’s not neat and tidy like Kingston usually keeps everything. In fact, it’s pretty much bedlam. And his family is congregated around the island, talking over each other.

“Hey, guys!” Kingston says, but they’re so loud they don’t notice him.

Hanna brings two fingers to her mouth and lets out a shrill whistle.

Kingston’s brother—I’m assuming, based on his age—drops to the ground and covers his head with his hands. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Get up, Gerald. Hanna, was that really necessary?” King’s mom-not-mom props a fist on her hip. “You know how much Gerald hates whistles. Oh! Hi there!” she says when she notices us.

I lift my hand in a wave, and my dad mirrors me. I don’t know what to think about the gong show that is currently happening in my boyfriend’s kitchen. I’m not sure what I expected from his family, but this sure isn’t it. Maybe I thought they’d all be polo-and-khaki-wearing rule followers. However, it appears as though Kingston might be the only one who fits that bill.

“Mom, Dad, Gerald, this is my girlfriend, Queenie, and her dad, Jake.”

Kingston’s mom-not-mom looks from me to Jake and back again, clearly assessing the age difference between us. Or lack of age difference.

“It’s so lovely to meet you both!” Kingston’s mom-not-mom pulls me in for an aggressive hug. She then holds me at arm’s length, like she’s performing some kind of inspection. “Oh yes, I can see why Ryan is enamored with you. I’m so sorry about Jessica. I thought I was doing the right thing, but as it turns out I’m actually pretty good at doing the wrong thing. Like not telling Ryan I’m not his mother until the cat was already out of the bag.” She grimaces and squeezes my shoulders.

“But in my defense, he’s always been such a good boy. And I was really quite worried about how he would take the news. Gerald has been to jail more than once: not for anything serious, but still. And, well, you know all about the Hanna situation, so . . . I’m sorry. I should know better than to question Ryan’s judgment.”

“Uh, Mom, this isn’t a therapy session or confessional. It’s dinner and an introduction. You can save some of our family secrets for another day.” Kingston rubs the back of his neck, cheeks red and his expression reflecting his embarrassment.

Over the next several hours I discover that Kingston is the most normal member of his family. I have no idea how he turned out the way he did. Gerald has been to prison not once but twice for stealing semis while intoxicated. Hanna is probably the second-most grounded in her family—teen pregnancy and recent divorce aside, which is ironically very familiar.

I’m regaled with stories of Kingston from his teen years. Apparently, he was frequently friend zoned by girls in high school because he was so hyperfocused on hockey that he failed to realize they were interested in him until it was too late.

I also find out why Kingston doesn’t usually drink, thanks to his brother, Gerald, who seems to be the most off the hook. “When King was seventeen, me and our cousin Billy took him camping and fed him all kinds of drinks,” Gerald tells me, wearing a huge grin.

“I thought it was just soda.” Kingston swirls his white russian around in his glass, making the ice tinkle. “Not spiked with copious quantities of alcohol.”

“You were so drunk you couldn’t even stand.” Gerald starts laughing and slapping his knee. “And of course he thought he could go for a run and burn off the alcohol, because King is nothing but practical, even when he’s so shit faced he can’t see straight.”

“It seemed logical at the time,” Kingston grumbles, cheeks flushing.

“I’m assuming that didn’t go well,” I press, imagining a drunk, teenage Kingston trying to sober up by going for a run.

“He kept stumbling around; ended up in a raspberry bush and scratched himself all to hell. Broke out in hives too.”

“Because whatever you were feeding me had strawberries in it.” Kingston rolls his eyes.

“We didn’t know.”

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