Page 95 of Ice Ice Maybe
Zena playfully swatted my arm, her face turning a shade redder. “I don’t want to picture that again!”
Dad’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Speaking of nudity, Nolan, remember that time we took you to that nude beach in Spain when you were thirteen?”
My eyes widened in horror. “Dad, please don’t?—”
Mom was already diving into the story. “This was when he was developing, you know. His wee-wee was so cute, yet still like a tiny?—”
“Mother!” I practically shouted, my face burning hotter than the sun. “Please, for the love of sanity, stop talking.”
Zena was doubled over with laughter, tears in her eyes.
Luckily, Dad took pity on me and launched into the next question. “If Nolan was a kitchen appliance, what would he be?”
“A blender!” Zena replied without hesitation. “Versatile, a bit noisy sometimes, but great at mixing things up.”
“Noisy?” I shot her a playful glare, which she returned with a wink.
“Now, an important one,” Dad said, leaning forward. “If you could change one thing about Nolan, what would it be?”
“Dad,” I protested, but Zena held up a hand.
She pretended to think hard. “Well, if I had to pick something, maybe his insistence on using ‘Zamboni’ as a verb. ‘I’m going to Zamboni the dishes after dinner’ is not a thing, Nolan.”
I burst out laughing. “What? I’ve never done that in my entire life! I should Zamboni your mouth shut for lying to my parents.”
She cackled so hard she snorted, then reached over and squeezed my arm. I loved seeing how much fun she was having with my parents, who had joined her in laughter. I was amazed at how easily she’d charmed them and handled Dad’s quirky questions.
“Maybe we should Zamboni this entire conversation and start over,” Dad suggested, slapping the table with a satisfied grin.
“That’s enough of your questions for one evening, Rowan.” Mom beamed at Zena. “I think it’s safe to say you’ve passed the Reid family initiation with flying colors. By the way, how is your father doing?”
Zena smiled warmly. “He’s doing great. Thank you for asking.” Her phone suddenly chimed twice within a few seconds of each other, cutting through the comfortable atmosphere. “I’m sorry, I left the volume up in case of emergencies. Do you mind if I check it?”
“Of course not, dear,” Mom reassured her. “Family comes first.”
I watched as Zena’s expression shifted from polite concern to something darker as she read the messages.
“Uh-oh,” she said, her brow furrowing.
“Is your dad okay?” I asked, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.
“He’s fine, but …” Zena took a deep breath, her eyes still on her phone. “Both of my parents want to start planning their vow renewal tomorrow. I just got a message from each of them.”
Mom’s eyebrows shot up. “That sounds lovely, but you don’t look too thrilled about it.”
I cleared my throat, feeling the weight of the secret we’d been keeping. “The problem is, each of Zena’s parents is planning a separate surprise vow renewal for the other person. Two vow renewals. On the same day.”
Dad choked on his wine. “How in the world are you going to pull that off?”
Mom shook her head in disbelief. “It sounds like a logistical nightmare.”
“It won’t be easy.” Zena shrugged. “We’ll need to coordinate two completely separate guest lists, then combine them. But the hardest part, I think, is finding out Mom’s preference for a venue, then somehow convincing Dad to use the same place. Or vice versa. And without either of them catching wind of the other’s plans.”
“We’re about to embark on the world’s most intricate game of romantic Jenga,” I said. “We’ll be stacking lies upon half-truths, hoping the whole thing doesn’t come crashing down before we can get them both to say ‘I do’ again.”
“And if you fail?” Dad asked, his eyebrows raised.
I shrugged. “Then we’ll have front-row seats to the most spectacular vow renewal implosion in history. Either way, it’s going to be one heck of a show.”
