“No way, girl,” I say, lying back down on the polyester duvet and hoping disgusting things haven’t taken place on it. “We’re still in British Columbia.”
“How’s it going?”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“Terrible!”
“Wait! What? Why?”
I tell her all about Beto’s misguided dreams of composing music, how I’m doing all of the driving myself, and that we’re simply not getting along.
“He’s acting like a belligerent teen!”
“Not to point out the obvious, Iz, but heisa teen.”
“Barely,” I mutter. “He’s nineteen acting like thirteen.”
“Don’t get mad at me for asking, but is it possible you’re being a little tough on him?”
“I need to be tough! Filming for this show lasts for twenty-one days, Ken. And it’s going to be intense. Challenges. Physical endurance. Trust exercises. We need to get our act together!”
“More flies with honey than vinegar.”
That was one of her Mimi’s favorite expressions. I roll my eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Isabella Maria Gonzalez.”
I chuckle. No one knows me like McKenna does, and it’s oddly comforting, even when she’s chastising me. “You’re probably right, but he’s so irritating, Ken!”
“It’ll get better.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Actually, I do,” she says. “I’ve been going to your family’s summer BBQ for years. There are always a hundred people there, and even though you’re not close to all of them, you still love them all. You and Beto will figure out how to get this done.”
“You’re right, I guess. I’d hate to let Miguel down.”
“You’ve got this, Iz. Lighten up a little. Give the kid a break.”
“Fine! Now, enough about me,” I say. “How areyoudoing, married lady?”
“Amaaaaaazing.”
“Blissed out?”
“Totally.”
I love hearing McKenna so happy. She didn’t have a great childhood, and losing her Mimi last summer was a painful blow. She deserves every ounce of happiness that a life with Tanner Stewart can give her.
“Tanner’s a good one.”
“The best.”
“So, do I hear little voices clamoring for ‘Tia Isa’ in my future?”
“Don’t rush us!” says McKenna with a giggle. “We’re still in the honeymoon phase.”