Page 9 of Blue Moon Love

I’d had lunch with Milo, her brother, today. He didn’t say he was asking to take me out for my birthday or mention it while we ate, but I knew that’s what he was doing. He mentioned that his sister had gone to Dallas last night for a date, which explained why she got home so late. Apparently, the guy had been an asshole who pretended he forgot his wallet. Milo then went on to tell me about her other adventures in dating. One guy ended up being married. Another claimed to be in his thirties but was balding and used his senior discount when the check came, and another said he worked in finance only for her to find out he’d been unemployed for three years. Milo had relayed the stories because he thought they were funny. I didn’t find them funny at all.

Kenna was amping up her dating life. And even though it wasn’t going well, I still wasn’t a fan.

5

KENNA

“Better for sorry stomachs to burst than for good food to go to waste.” ~ Archie “Witty” Whitlock

“Happy Thanksgiving!” I called out as I walked into my parents’ house.

Dad sat comfortably in his recliner, next to the threadbare green and white checkered couch that my parents had owned since before I was born. My brothers and I had all tried to talk them into updating the furnishings in their home, but Dad claimed that they’d just gotten them worn in.

My dad lifted his hand, which held a beer. He was watching football on his big-screen television, which he had upgraded to a 72-inch 4D. I walked over, leaned down, and gave him a hug.

His hand patted my back as he kept his eyes glued to the screen. “Your mother’s in the kitchen.”

“I love you, too, Dad,” I teased as I stood up.

“The games on.” Dad tilted his bottle towards the screen, which was his way of saying, you know I love you. And I did.

My dad was an amazing father. He was just old-school and also used to raising boys. I had never doubted how much he loved me, but he wasn’t the most affectionate or effusive parent. What he lacked in that department, my mother made up for in spades. Her attention and love could sometimes be suffocating. She wasn’t a believer in personal boundaries, at least not when it came to her children. But since I knew it came from the absolutely best place, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When I stepped into the kitchen, I found my mother standing at the island, mashing potatoes. Her long, dark hair was flowing down around her shoulders in beachy waves. Her makeup was understated but flawless. Just a little bit of mascara, cat eyeliner, and gloss. Between my mother’s huge green eyes, high cheekbones, and full, naturally raspberry-tinted lips, she didn’t need a lot of help in the cosmetics department. She wore an off-the-shoulder fitted dress that accentuated her pinup curves, heels, and an apron. She looked like she was doing a holiday ad for 1950s housewives.

“Hey Mama! You look beautiful! What can I do to help?”

“Amorina!” My mom exclaimed, using her nickname for me, which translated to ‘little love’ or ‘sweetheart’ as she grabbed my face and then proceeded to kiss me all over my cheeks, leaving a trail of gloss in her wake. “How did your date go? With that nice boy from Hinge.”

Last night, I went to have drinks a few towns over in Parrish Creek with a guy I matched on Hinge with. It was another complete waste, but this time, it had only been two hours instead of six.

I was proud of myself for getting back up on the dating horse. It had only been a week since my Dallas disaster, and as gun-shy as I was, I hadn’t let it stop me from pulling the trigger and agreeing to meet someone.

“Not great,” I relayed.

“What?” Her hands flew in the air. “Why not? He had a strong jaw.”

“He also had halitosis,” I explained as I grabbed a dinner roll that was on a cooling rack.

She swatted my hand away. “Those are for the boys.”

“I thought they weren’t coming.” Mason was in the Army stationed at Fort Story in Virginia Beach and hadn’t gotten time off for Thanksgiving, and Milo was a firefighter/EMT who was working the holiday.

“They’re for your brother, Sam and their friends. You’re going to deliver the food to their stations after we eat.”

I found it adorable that she referred to the other firefighters and police officers as my brother and Sam’s ‘friends.’ My dad retired from the police force five years ago, and she used to call his law enforcement colleagues his ‘friends’ too.

“And what are you talking about? What is this holy-moses?” My mom waved the potato peeler in the air.

“Halitosis,” I corrected her. “He had bad breath. It was like a sewer system.”

My mom’s face twisted in horror as she turned her attention back to the task at hand and started attacking the spuds with vigor, removing all signs of skin from them. “Did you tell him to brush his teeth?”

Marcella Lucia Hale did not know the meaning of subtle. If she thought it, she said it. Her maiden name was Bacci, but it should have been Blunt.

“No, I didn’t.”

“What did you do?”

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