Brothers.”
I swallowed. “And I appreciate your promise of discretion.”
“Of course,” she shook off the comment.
“You should stay for dinner,” I said.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Do you like stuffed shells?”
“Yes.” She swallowed thickly. “That sounds good.”
I ran a hand through my hair, her gaze focused on the action. She sucked her bottom lip in.
“I’ll change and be up in minute. Tell my folks?” I asked.
She nodded and turned on a heel and skittered to the stairs leading up. This was fine. We had worked through it. She was unaffected and professional. Things would be fine.
But first an ice-cold shower. Again.
Despite our discussion to not let it be weird, I fully expected the opposite.
By the time I joined my family in the dining room, Kim was chatting happily with my mom as she set the table. My dad and Wes carried two large dishes of pasta to the table.
“Hey honey,” Mom said.
I kissed her cheek and hugged my dad.
“Kim was filling us in on the Fourth of July show you’re doing,” Dad said.
“Sounds fun. Fireworks!” Ma added.
“It’s kitschy,” I said.
“People like kitschy. And families like coming to outdoor concerts. Never too soon to get kids exposed to the symphony,” Kim said as she lined up forks on linen napkins.
“That’s why we are doing it,” I said with purposeful dry sarcasm.
She smiled at me, taking me so by surprise that I smiled back without thinking. We stood there grinning at each other for two beats too long. This was why I needed to wear the mask.
I ran a hand over my face, checking for the bandana that was not there. It seemed pointless now. I never wore it around my family anyway unless other people were around.
“Okay, let’s eat,” Ma said. When she passed me, she lowered her voice and said, “Glad to see your face tonight.”
I shrugged.
After saying grace, we dug in. For a few minutes there was only the clatter of spoons against dishes and chatter of passing items. I tried to picture how Kim saw my family after meeting them for the first time. And studying my parents it occurred to me, oddly, how much older they were now. I had been gone for so long that they had transformed into grandparents while I was away. My mother’s hair had grayed near the temples and the skin around her eyes was wrinkled from so many years of smiles. My dad, too, wore more wrinkles than I remembered. But it was hard to not see them through the filter of my life. Her thin lips still quirked up to the side while she listened to someone speaking. Dad’s gleaming bald head would crinkle with every belly laugh.
Wes still looked like the same dumbass, only a little chubbier.
Once we were all a glass of wine in, except Kim, who’d had water, conversation flowed as though we’d done this a hundred times. With every passing minute, the tension from downstairs melted into warm contentedness.
Kim was … surprising. She was eloquent and cultured, but boisterous in a way I hadn’t expected. She was so quiet in rehearsal that I’d assumed she was shy. But that was Christine, apparently. Kim knew so much about music and art and literature. Her parents were two successful artists, after all. She adapted to conversation easily. Even though my parents and brother were self-dubbed blue-collar, hard-working, salt-of-the-earth people, content to drink beers and watch Sunday football, she shared her knowledge in a way that was casual and charming without an ounce of condescension.
We spoke freely of our favorite pieces and shared some of the funnier stories from rehearsals. Like the time her friend, Erin, challenged a bassist to a freestyle rap battle and wiped the floor with him. Once or twice our gazes met and held a beat too long, like we shared an intimate secret. I caught her staring openly at my face a few times, but she’d smile and I’d be utterly disarmed.
Her knowing my truth still made my skin itch, but there were perks too. I wouldn’t have to mess with the damn masks during our weekend rehearsals.
My parents clearly adored her. Of course. And even my brother turned his charm on all the way to eleven on her. They shared a witty banter that bordered on flirtation without being inappropriate. Still.
“Did you know Wes is married with two little girls?” I said.
“That’s true, I am.” Wes grinned and pulled out his phone. After a few clicks he turned the screen toward Kim. “That’s Ellie, the