“I’d say that’s the first smart thing you’ve done in a long damn time,” Jansen says.
“Definitely,” Mom agrees. “And the second smartest thing is to go chase down Kayla and play slap the salami.”
“Mom, we don’t have that type of relationship.”
“Seems to me, son, you only have two decisions here. She wants a baby. Unless you’ve had some surgery I don’t know about, you can make that happen. So do it—or stand back and let Tommy.”
“Do it?” I ask, not believing what my own mother is saying.
“Give her a baby.”
“It’s not worth the risk. I won’t lose Kayla,” I say out loud without even realizing it.
“Your decision, I suppose, but if you let her tie her wagon up to Tommy Haynes, you’ve already lost her. Give her a baby. I like kids. This house is too quiet as it is. I could use a few more grandkids,” Ida Sue says, patting me on the shoulder like I’m still a child before leaving the room.
“That’s a smart woman,” Jansen says, staring at the door as if he can still see Ida Sue standing there.
“She wants me to get Kayla pregnant.”
“That doesn’t sound like a job a man would hate,” Jansen notes.
“Of course not. Kayla’s sweet, but we don’t have that kind of relationship.”
“That’s a damn shame. Still, the love of a good woman changes a man. Maybe she’ll make that idiot Tommy gain a few more brain cells and it will all turn out okay. Guess I better get out to work. Those cows don’t fence themselves in.”
I ignore him, staring out the window and wondering how I can save Kayla from herself. The idea of her marrying Tommy is wrestling around in my gut like poison. She’s too good for that prick. Why are Mom and Jansen so calm about it? Can’t they see that Kayla is destroying her life?
I’ve got to figure out how to talk some sense into her—and fast.
CHAPTER 3
KAYLA
I keep looking at the reflection in the mirror, hoping that what I see reflected back might change. My brown dishpan-water-colored curly hair is frizzy today. It doesn’t matter what I do; the humidity is winning the battle. I really should have stayed away from the pint of orange sherbet I ate after talking with White on the phone two days ago because it’s not doing my hips a bit of good. I bought this dress for the meet-the-family dinner tonight. And it might have said my size, but it looks unbelievably tight and ill-fitting now. Surely I couldn’t have gained that much weight in a week.
I don’t know why I keep hyperventilating, but for some reason I do. Frumpy. That’s the word I associate with myself. Plain, brown, over-curly hair with brown eyes that are dull, and way too many curves and rolls along the highway I call my body. You would think after almost thirty years I would learn to like the woman who stares back at me in the mirror. Most days I do. At least I like the woman on the inside. As for the outside, there have been too many men that have whittled away at my self-confidence and made me feel less. Just less.
It probably doesn’t help that the one man I love and will always love has never seen me as girlfriend material. We’re friends. He’s my best friend. His family is the only family I’ve ever known.
I have a half-sister who I’m not extremely close to. Rachel. Rachel is everything that I’m not. Beautiful with long-flowing straight blonde locks, skinny, able to fit into the latest hip fashions, and she is never socially awkward. Tonight, she would be fantastic in dealing with Tommy’s family. Me? I’d rather be on my couch in sweats watching movies and gorging myself on pizza—which might explain my hips.
Finally giving up—because honestly there’s nothing more I can do and I’m going to be ten minutes late to meet Tommy and his family at Rodrigo’s Restaurant as it is—I move from the mirror to find my heels. I love them. At least they will look great. I wouldn’t be so nervous if I wasn’t showing up all alone for a family dinner. Truthfully, I don’t have anyone to bring. Rachel and I barely talk and that was before I found out she slept with White. Now, I’d just rather not deal with her at all.