Page 40 of Known By You
“Time for someBake Off?”
He nodded, flicking on the TV, and webegan. I needed the distraction from the mission, from my jumbled thoughts about Liz, and maybe a little from the wanting. I tried not to live a grabby life, reaching for more and more. I’d achieved a lot and hoped to have many years to go. I didn’t want to live in a state of hands out, gasping for more, more, more. I wanted to hold and honor and cherish what I had. Contentment was what I really wanted.
Even if, sometimes, it felt like there were pieces missing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Elizabeth
The day with Kenny had been so emotionally challenging, I debated canceling on my dad.
Then I gave myself a pep talk and got over it.
Because I’d had a wonderful time with Kenny. I couldn’t think of another time in many, many years when I’d felt so happy, comfortable, emotionally safe, and yet also excited. Like around the next corner, there might be some surprise.
The surprise, though, had been the man next to me and every gesture he made to show me around town. The quiet, gorgeous overlook of Silver Ridge had provided the most poignant moment for me, but I didn’t stop feeling both delighted and dismayed by him until he dropped me off back at the apartment.
Even then, I replayed much of the day and feltthe same dissonance. He was honestly so wonderful, and yet it unsettled me.
I couldn’t tell why, exactly, and mystery wasn’t something I liked in my personal life. There was enough about my work that naturally remained unknown. I liked order, predictability, routine, and clarity in my day-to-day, my personal interactions, and even in my thoughts.
Kenny Carmichael had thrown all of that to the wolves.
Mixed up in my angst about being shoved out of my job, and all the frustration and maybe even grief, I was realizing that there was this sense that so much else around me was good.Toogood.
Despite this troubling mental state, I recognized how the choice to cancel on my dad would be hazardous to our relationship. In the last six months, we’d had some hard conversations. We were repairing the years of damage and distance, most of which honestly came down to my refusal to engage with him. I’d been gone and purposefully evasive and distant for so long that showing up had become unnatural.
So here I stood, stomping the snow off my boots on his and Jane’s welcome mat, bracing for impact.
The door flew open as I reached for the doorbell.
“Elizabeth, so glad you could come.”
I was supposed to meet my dad around lunch. Somehow, my call to enquire if that time was okay morphed into an invitation to dinner at his place.
Jane’s warmth extended out to me via her smile, and she stepped back, gesturing me inside. She wanted to hug me. She was a hugger by nature. But she held herself wrapped up tight for my benefit.
I both appreciated and loathed this. Partof me was relieved not to feel obligated to hug anyone but Jojo, but another part wondered what might happen if I just unwound a little. If I let my mind and body be at ease instead of vigilant all the time.
You were at ease with Kenny…
Not a helpful thought, so I shoved it away.
“Thank you for inviting me. I’m glad to be here,” I said, hoping she could tell I meant it, even if my voice stayed mostly even.
Maybe Kenny could teach me how to get that tail-wagging enthusiasm imbued into my voice like he always had.
And maybe we can go for a full ninety seconds without thinking about Kenny, hmm?
Once we reached the kitchen, I found my dad with an apron and mitts removing what looked to be a roast chicken from the oven. It smelled amazing and I would’ve done a double take if we hadn’t talked about how he’d learned to cook after the divorce. My mom had always done the cooking and he’d expressed regret he hadn’t helped her more.
It was small, but a helpful note. Apparently, he’d told her this, too. I knew they didn’t talk often, but knowing he’d said something reparative had warmed me.
“Welcome, welcome. Everything’s ready so we’ll just serve from over here. Keep it casual.” My dad spoke over his shoulder as he turned off a burner on the stove and Jane reached for a stack of plates and handed me one.
“Here you go, honey.”
I accepted the plate, enjoying the informal nature of things. I hadn’t expected something grand, but I’d wondered if we’d all be sitting in stolid silence, onlyoccasional forks scraping on plates. This wasn’t how any interaction with them had ever gone, but my mind had wrapped as much negative potential around the evening as possible and that was one scenario.
