Page 86 of Paradise in Progress
“You don’t have to do that,” Tristan whispers.
“It’s no problem,” I say. My shoes aren’t filthy, but there’s no way I’m risking a black mark against this carpet. Not when this house is worth more money than I’ll ever see in my entire life.
Krista pauses in the doorway. “Oh, sweetie, you don’t need to remove your shoes.”
“No, really, I don’t mind,” I insist.
“Tristan, up in the guest bedroom, there are a few pairs of new slippers. See if any are Kennedy’s size.”
“You really don’t…” my words trail off as she flashes me a wink, and before I know it, Tristan is running up the stairs I was admiring. If I thought there was going to be this much fuss, I would have kept my shoes on. Who am I kidding? I probably still would have taken them off because…anxiety.
“I’ll take you on a small tour. Everyone is waiting in the parlor.”
With one last glance up the stairs, I follow his mom into the next room. The living area is a mix of classic and modern elements, which has my jaw dropping. Cream couches face a stunningly intricate carved fireplace. It’s breathtaking.
“Your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you. We’ve had this home since the kids were little, and I have no idea how some pieces survived toddlerhood.”
That’s when I notice the bookshelves lined with vases and antiques.
“You did an excellent job with Paradise. I was so angry on your behalf that they didn’t include your name.”
Sheepishly, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, unsure how to respond, but I settle on a simple thank you.
We move into the oversized white marble kitchen, where pots line the stove as their smells mingle together. My stomach grumbles at the fragrance. Xander walks in from the opposite direction and smiles brightly.
“Ready for your first Nelson family dinner?” He smirks, and my eyes widen.
“Xander, don’t scare the poor girl.”
“Nah, Kennedy can hold her own.” Moving over to the fruit bowl, he pops a few grapes into his mouth.
“I don’t doubt that for one second,” Krista adds. “If she finally put Tristan out of his misery, she can handle anything.”
Conversation flows between the two, and I stand back and observe. A few minutes later, Tristan comes back into the room, carrying a pair of white slippers. He places a gentle kiss on my cheek before bending down to situate the shoes at my feet. I slide into the soft material,and when my feet feel like they’re standing on clouds, I’m instantly grateful for the slippers.
“I hope Mom wasn’t overwhelming you too much.”
Xander looks over at us from where he’s leaning against the counter. “I rescued her just in time. Mom was giving her the fifth degree and listing all the responsibilities that come with the Nelson name.”
“Mom.” Tristan’s eyes widen, but Krista ignores his chastising.
“Your brother was the one scaring the poor girl.”
“The poor girl is standing right in front of us and looks like she could use a glass of wine.” Victoria steps into the kitchen and wraps her arms around my shoulder. “Come, Kenny, I’ll show you where Mom keeps the good wine…and baby pictures.”
“Don’t you dare.” Tristan squints at his sister, almost as if he is daring her.
We both chuckle as Victoria leads me out of the kitchen and toward what I assume is the parlor.
It’s not long before Krista is calling everyone into the dining room. I admire the ornate woodworking, which is original to the home as my eyes trail over the large rectangular table. A neutral table runner sits in the center of the table, where dishes of food wait—roasted chicken with vegetables, mashed potatoes, and a garden salad.
Mr. Nelson waits at the head of the table. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since arriving in his home. He’s as intimidating as ever, and I fight the urge to hide behind Tristan. As we all fill the empty seats, I’m instructed to sit next to Tristan and across from Victoria, while Krista and Xander sit on each side of Mr. Nelson.
“Thank you for inviting me.” The statement is open to anyone, but I’m hoping Mr. Nelson implies it’s directed at him.
Mr. Nelson glances up, meeting my eyes for the first time. “Of course. Any friend of Tristan’s is welcome.”
