Page 23 of Penelope in Retrograde

Penny: I don’t want Mom and Dad to see him. I especially don’t want Nana Rosie to see him.

Phoebe: Want me to blindfold them?

Penny: How much have you had to drink?

Phoebe: Enough to not be useful.

Phoebe: Tell the driver to step on it.

Phoebe: I’m freezing my tits off.

“Stop the car,” I tell Smith. “Aidan needs to be driving. Aidan, rise and shine. It’s time to get back on the horse.”

“Pen, I’m not stopping the car. We’re three houses away from your parents’ place.”

“Fine.” I slump into my seat like a petulant child. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My family hates you.”

“They hate me?” Smith hits the brakes, causing the van to lurch. “Why? I mean, I know they were never exactly my biggest fans, but I never thought they hated me.”

He’s not wrong. My parents have always had a healthy disdain for Smith and his family. They never liked the idea of us dating, but they tolerated it because on the list of questionable behaviors they’d witnessed from me, falling in love with the boy across the street with the hippie rock-star parents was a mild offense. When we moved in together, they were pissed. When we got engaged, they were disgruntled. And when they found out we eloped, they were furious.

But eventually my old-school, traditional parents came around to the idea that marriage would be good for me. It would settle me. Give me some direction. After we traveled around for a bit and realized we’d never be able to afford the kind of lifestyles we grew up with, my dad would take Smith under his wing and pull him into the family business. By our fifth wedding anniversary, we’d be the respectable sort of couple my parents dreamed of. The kind of couple they could invite to the country club for golf and a mimosa brunch with their friends. The kind of couple they’d brag about when we weren’t around, instead of changing the subject whenever somebody asked about us.

Then we got divorced after less than a year of marriage, and any salvageable hope my parents had of turning me into the upstanding daughter they hoped for died with my marriage.

“Uh, probably because you divorced me,” I say.

“It was a mutual decision, Penny.”

“I may have made it seem not so mutual.” Sweat prickles at the back of my neck. “I may have told them you called things off unexpectedly and then left me alone at LaGuardia.”

“You told them I abandoned you?”

“A little.”

“God, no wonder they hate me.” He looks at me with this wounded expression, which feels rich coming from a guy who’s about to reuse his ex-wife’s engagement ring.

“Could you two stop arguing?” Aidan asks. “My parents used to argue, and it always made me feel nauseated. My mother still argues with my dad, but he’s inside an urn now.”

“Listen,” I plead. “I couldn’t handle disappointing them more than I already had, and since you weren’t around, it just made it easier to blame you. It was a victimless crime.”

“Until now.” Smith eases off the brake. “What are the odds your dad takes a swing at me the second he sees me?”

“Just pull into your driveway and stay in the van. I’ll get my bags, and if they ask any questions, I’ll tell them that the driver got confused.” I glance back at Aidan. “It’s honestly not that hard of a story to sell.”

“Great. I hide like I used to when I was a teenager sneaking out of your room. That’s your big plan?”

“Yes.” I hold my breath as we move closer to my parents’ home. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

“I do.”

Smith stops the van directly in front of my family. It takes them a second to register that I’m sitting in the front seat instead of the back, and it takes my parents another half second to realize that the driver looks vaguely familiar. I put on the biggest, most enthusiastic smile my mouth can muster and swing open my door to greet them.

“I made it.” I cover my head with my purse to keep the last few drops of rain from splattering across my face. “Better late than never, right? Mom? Dad? Anyone?”

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