Page 115 of Meant to be Mine

“That’s wonderful.” Mrs. Blake beamed at both of us. “I’m just so glad you’re staying. Both of you being here together, it’s what I’ve always hoped for.”

Kensey’s face flushed. “Mom.”

“What? I’m allowed to be happy about it.” She turned to me. “You know we’ve always thought of you as family, Drew. This just makes it official.”

It made me feel good. I loved my family but having another set of parents felt like a huge bonus. “Thank you, Mrs. Blake. That means a lot.”

After dinner, Mrs. Blake insisted on bringing out dessert—apple pie she’d baked that afternoon. As she cut generous slices, she launched into what I immediately recognized as dangerous territory.

“You know,” she said, settling back into her chair with that gleam in her eye that meant an embarrassing story was coming, “I was thinking about when Kensey was younger. Do you remember, honey, when we went shopping for your first bra?”

I watched Kensey’s face turn bright red. “Mom, no. Why would you bring this up?”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Blake continued, completely ignoring her daughter’s mortification. “She was twelve, maybe thirteen. I’d been trying to get her to go for months, but she kept insisting she didn’t need one.”

“Mom, please stop.”

“So finally I convinced her to come with me to the mall. We’re in the fitting room at Macy’s, and the saleswoman is trying to measure her. Kensey was having an absolute meltdown about the whole thing.”

I tried to keep a straight face.

“She kept saying, ‘But, Mom, boys are going to know I’m wearing a bra!’” Mrs. Blake was laughing now, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “And then the woman told her about various bras for when she got older. She looked at me, pure horror in her eyes and said, ‘I’m going to have to wear this thing for the rest of my life?’”

Mr. Blake was chuckling quietly into his coffee. I started laughing.

“I hate you all,” Kensey announced, but she was fighting a smile.

“And then we finally get one that fits, and we’re walking out of the store, and she’s convinced everyone in the entire mall knows what we just bought. She made me hide the bag inside another bag so no one would see through the bag.”

“That’s adorable,” I managed to get out between laughs.

“It’s humiliating,” Kensey corrected. She reached for one of the dinner rolls still sitting in the basket on the table. “Mom, I’m warning you.”

“And then she put it on inside out!” Mrs. Blake exclaimed.

The roll hit her square in the chest.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Mrs. Blake looked down at the roll that had bounced off her and landed on her plate. Then she looked up at Kensey, eyebrows raised. Mr. Blake’s mouth hung open slightly, his coffee cup frozen halfway to his lips.

Then Mrs. Blake burst out laughing. “Did you just throw bread at your mother?”

“You were warned,” Kensey said, but she was laughing too now, her face still flushed with embarrassment.

After dinner, I helped clear the table despite Mrs. Blake’s protests. Kensey and I stood side by side at the sink, loading the dishwasher.

“Your mom’s in a good mood,” I observed quietly.

“She’s thrilled. I think she was more excited about us getting together than I was.”

“Impossible. I was pretty excited.”

She laughed and handed me a wet plate. “You hid it well.”

I slipped the plate in the bottom rack. “So. Victoria next week?”

“Yeah. She wants to introduce me to some people, help me get my foot in the door.” Kensey scrubbed at a pot. “It feels weird, using connections like that. I’m used to doing things on my own.”

“Nothing wrong with accepting help when it’s offered. Especially from family.”