Page 73 of Tiny's Law

Her fingers tracing mindless patterns on my stomach.

And usually, but missing tonight, her soft giggles enveloping us as they float on the wind.

Normally, on our rides, Kourtney’s a big tease. She tries to tickle me, pinches me, and is an overall playful backwarmer. Don’t get me wrong. I’ll take Kourtney any way I can get her, whether she's in a good mood, a bad mood, healthy, sick with the flu, perioding, or cranky with work. But I can’t lie and say that this quiet Kourtney is on my list of favorites. Not that I don’t love her all the time. I just wish I knew what I could do to make her happy all the time and not this quiet shell sitting behind me. Hopefully, dinner perks her up a bit.

By the time we pull into my own driveway, I’m a bundle of nerves. Kourtney’s foul mood is making me anxious. Is this what the guys complain about when they say they feel like they did something wrong, but they just don’t know what?

Holding her hand while she dismounts, I squeeze her fingertips til her cornflower eyes come to mine. “Sure you’re okay, babe?”

She nods with a smile, waiting for me to follow her off. “I’m sure.”

I follow a step behind her til we get into the kitchen and roll my eyes as I catch my mom fiddling with the damn flowers again.

“Kourtney! Hi!” Mom smiles gently, reaching her hand out to Kourtney. “I’m Emily, Nathan’s mom.”

Kourtney turns a curious gaze on me but still reaches her hand out to my mom’s to shake. I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Mom’s using this as a do-over. You guys never met.”

Kourtney blushes and shakes my mom’s hand, letting Mom pull her in for a small hug. “Hi, Emily. I’m Kourtney.”

Mom smiles so wide you can damn near see her molars clear as day as she squeezes Kourtney to her. With one hand at the back of her head and another on her upper back, I stand by and watch as they hug each other for a beat too long.

Kourtney forces out a breath and laughs uncomfortably while rushing out on a whisper, “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. You hug just like my mom does, and there’s a very strong chance you guys wear the same perfume because I felt like I was just hugging her.”

I watch as my mom brushes a small tear from her eye. Kourtney doesn’t catch it, but I do. Kourtney climbs onto the stool, then runs her hands over her slicked-back ponytail and timidly plays with the tail. It isn’t like her to come off so shy. I’m used to my strong, outspoken Kourt.

Mom turns back to the stove to pull the baking dish out and speaks over her shoulder. “Does your mom wear Tom Ford Vanille Fatale?”

Kourtney’s eyes widen, and she nods her head. “I may have expensive tastes, but my mom is on another level.”

I wince when I can feel my mom about to spin around and out me. “Nathan buys it for me. It’s my Christmas gift every other year. I make the bottle last me that long because I always tell him how silly it is to spend that much on a silly bottle of perfume.”

Kourtney’s eyes meet mine, and I can sense the humor in hers as she nods in approval. “Way to show me up. I usually buy my mom a new pair of Tory Burch sandals or something. I need to up my game, apparently.”

I nonchalantly shrug. “I like the way it makes her smell.”

Kourtney’s mouth drops open. “You buy a $1,300 bottle of perfume because you like the way it makes your mom smell, yet you only see her a few times a year?”

“It makes her smile every time she opens it, so yeah.”

I run my hand along the back of my neck, uncomfortable that she seems to think it’s a big deal. Is it? Is it dumb? Maybe. But my mom’s smile every time she sees that stupid bottle of perfume under the tree is worth the price tag. I’ll never forget the first year I bought it. I asked the salesman what perfume I should get my mom, and that’s what he handed me. Looking back, I’m sure he sold me one of the most expensive ones so he could get the commission, but who cares? It smells good, and it makes her happy.

Kourtney softly laughs. “I hope I have a son as generous as you one day.”

Images of Kourtney holding a baby boy flash through my brain in a kaleidoscope of images, and I can’t say it doesn’t make my insides light up. The thought of ever becoming a dad used to scare the shit out of me. Not so much anymore.

Not if it’s with her.

“Speaking of your mom, Kourtney, what is it that your parents do again?”

Mom carries the baking dish to the already-set kitchen table, and Kourtney follows her while I grab us all a bottle of wine and glasses.

I walk into the dining room to Kourtney, who is describing the small boutique her mom used to own.

“That must be where you get your lovely sense of style from. Nathan has told me a bit about your love of clothes.”

Kourtney nods shyly.

Her mood remains impassive for the rest of the dinner. She never ignores my mom’s questions and always answers with a well-thought-out answer, but it’s missing her usual expressive self. She even asked Mom a few questions about herself, but I could tell this was more to keep the conversation flowing and less out of interest. I don’t know what’s wrong, and I hope this change in her isn’t due to what happened the last time she was here for dinner.

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