Page 8 of Penelope in Retrograde

My stomach plummets to my feet. “I had no idea. I didn’t see anything in Entertainment Weekly or Rolling Stone.” Smith’s parents were famous musicians. Jasper and Fiona had a dozen number-one songs, a handful of multiplatinum albums, and enough songwriting credits to fill a museum. They were weird and eccentric, like all the best people are, and they loved bigger than the Pacific, like most people rarely do.

“She didn’t want any of that.”

“Smith, I’m so sorry.” My throat tightens around my words. “She was an amazing woman. How are you doing? How’s your sister?”

“We’re all right,” he says. “This is our first holiday since she passed, so we’re just trying to figure out what normal looks like now. Mo’s flying in tomorrow, and together we’re going to get the house in order so we can sell it. No point in keeping it anymore.”

“Right.”

I offer a weak smile and put on a brave face, but on the inside, something is breaking. The thought of someone else living inside the Mackenzies’ house hurts like a punch to the gut. It hurts more than the thought of my parents selling their home. Smith’s house was my second home for years. It was the one place I could go and feel complete acceptance and zero judgment, because nobody there cared that I wasn’t as accomplished as my sister, as poised as my mother, or as driven as my father. Most of all, I didn’t have to pretend to care that I wasn’t any of those things—I could just be me. I hate the idea of someone moving in and erasing that.

“Make a wish,” Aidan calls over his shoulder as we cross onto the bridge. “My mother is very superstitious. She swore that if we didn’t make a wish when crossing a bridge, the entire thing would collapse.” He looks at us expectantly in the mirror. “So if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Got it,” Smith says. “Two wishes coming up. Right, Penny?”

“Right.” I nod.

I’d hate to be the reason a half-century-old bridge collapsed. My mother would never forgive me for making her seating arrangement uneven on Thanksgiving.

Chapter 3

Within minutes of crossing onto the Coronado Bridge, traffic comes to a dead stop. Turns out, one of us should’ve wished we’d actually make it off the bridge.

Smith and I listen to Aidan describe some of his mother’s other superstitions. The most interesting of which involves never buying a book without reading the ending first. I thought it was some sort of When Harry Met Sally reference, but according to Aidan, his great-aunt Ina died in a hot-air balloon accident before she got to finish the final book in the Hunger Games series. A true disappointment.

The conversation takes a hard right turn when Aidan realizes that Smith’s parents are Jasper and Fiona Mackenzie, and he’s in the presence of rock and roll royalty. I can only listen to Smith talk about them for a few minutes before I start to feel weepy. Jasper died soon after Smith and I divorced, so I’m used to thinking about him in the past tense. Thinking about Fiona that way just feels wrong.

Penny: Smith’s mom died.

Chelsey: Oh no. You two were close.

Penny: We used to be.

Penny: I’m feeling things.

Penny: I don’t like it.

Jackie: After looking at that picture you sent, I’m feeling things too.

Jackie: Pants feelings. Big pants feelings.

Chelsey: Jackie, read the room.

Jackie: Sorry. I’ve been writing sex scenes all day.

Penny: It’s fine.

Penny: It’s just weird being here with him and knowing she’s not around anymore.

Penny: Everything feels so weird.

I wait for my last text to send, but the message pops back undeliverable. The rain is coming down in buckets, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it started hailing. I lean forward to check the navigation system for our ETA. It reads Travel Time Not Found.

“How long have we been stopped?” I ask Smith. “Do you have cell service?”

“Long enough for Aidan to go through my parents’ entire discography.” Smith takes his phone from his pocket. “I don’t think so. I do have a traffic alert notification.”

“Mind sharing that with me, boss?” Aidan asks.

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