Page 92 of The Weight Of Falling
“Your door was unlocked,” he points out, his frown deepening.
“Uh-huh. Because I knew you were coming.”
He exhales and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kenzie, please keep your door locked. At all times. Whether or not you know I’m coming.”
I straighten and peel off my gloves. I’m tempted to argue with him, but he gave up his Sunday to help me with Turbo’s training, so I say, “I solemnly swear, from this moment on, to always lock my door.”
He sighs. “I have no idea if you’re serious or not.”
Before I can joke that I am absolutely serious, he crosses to my living room. “There’s a car pulling into your driveway,” he says. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No.” I join him at the window. My stomach drops when I spot the familiar car and my mom’s excited face in the passenger seat. “It’s my parents.”
“Were you expecting them?” Joel asks.
“No, but sometimes they like to drop by on a Sunday.” I glance over at him. “Would you like to sneak out the back?”
“I’m not sneaking out like some high-school boyfriend,” Joel says. “Anyway, I’m blocked in.”
I shake my head. “I have a feeling my dad did that deliberately to prevent your escape.”
“I guess I’m meeting your parents,” he says on a resigned sigh.
We wait on the front porch while they exit the car.
Mom hurries up the steps first, beaming at Joel. “You must be Joel.”
“I am. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Ellis.” He holds out his hand, which she promptly ignores. Instead, she steps forward to envelop him in a hug. “No need to be so formal. Call me Sue.”
He freezes, his alarmed gaze flying to me.
Smothering a grin, I simply shrug. What can I say? My family are huggers.
After a second, Joel pats her back awkwardly. “Sue.”
Dad navigates the steps at a slower pace. “You must be my soon-to-be son-in-law,” he booms. “Welcome to the family. You can call me Dad.”
Joel blanches.
“Dad,” I scold. “Stop teasing him. You know our engagement isn’t real.”
My father grins. “I couldn’t resist.” He shakes Joel’s hand, silently taking the measure of him. “Nice to meet you, Joel. Call me Ian.”
“I told him to behave himself,” my mom says. “I knew he wouldn’t listen.”
“Hey, a little ribbing builds character,” he protests.
“I hope you don’t mind us dropping by,” my mom says, planting a kiss on my cheek. “We were nearby.”
I bite back a smile. My mother considers anything under a forty-five-minute radius nearby.
“We also brought along a few things,” Mom says casually.
Theirfew thingsturn out to be a full lunch spread—a lasagna for the oven, salad fixings, drinks, and a chocolate cheesecake for dessert—plus a whole host of items from the hardware store. Joel helps them carry the bags inside.
Turbo bounds over to greet my parents, who both gush over how handsome he is. They’re animal lovers, so they lavish him with attention, which he happily soaks up. It looks like training is on hold for the afternoon.
While Mom makes herself at home in my kitchen, Dad wanders over to my front door. He looks it up and down with a contemptuous shake of his head.
