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“It’s that one.” I point. “With the yellow door.”
Kit nods, then pulls into the correct driveway.
I stare at the split-level, trying to view it from a stranger’s perspective.
I’ve never been to Kit’s parents’ home, only their summer place. The house I grew up in could comfortably fit in the foyer of that mansion.
And I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that we always interact inhisworld. I’ve attended events Lili invited me to, hosted at their family’s homes. The party in the Hamptons I was so uncomfortable at was typical for him. Despite his confession in the elevator, Kit always appears completely at ease in the skyscraper that houses Kensington Consolidated’s corporate headquarters. We went to his favorite restaurant. Met at his penthouse. The closest we’ve come to my world, until now, was sitting on my apartment steps.
We’re different. And that’s not a bad thing, but it’snoticeable.
Especially right now.
“Still sure you don’t want a hotel room?” I check.
Two bedrooms don’t allow for a lot of guest space. And since my parents know we’re not a couple, sharing a bed seems strange.
I offered to take the couch, and Kit said, “Absolutely not,” in a tone that brooked no argument. He also turned down sleeping elsewhere.
He just laughs now, climbing out of the car and stretching. His sweater rides up a few inches, flashing a strip of firm muscle, and I quickly open my door to counteract the immediate heat flash with some December air.
It’s for the best that I’m unable to drink. I need full control of my faculties. All the pregnancy books I’ve read mentioned an increased sex drive being common in the second trimester.
I thought they were exaggerating.
They weren’t.
“You’re here!” My mom is rushing down the front walk, her cheeks rosy from the cold.
I smile as I step out of the car, pulling my hood up and over my hair. “Hi, Mom,” I greet, giving her a hug.
“How are you feeling?” she asks as soon as we separate.
“Good. No more nausea.”
“That’s great.” She smiles, then glances at Kit, who’s appeared on my left.
He holds out a hand. “It’s very nice to see you again, Professor Tate. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Amanda. Please, call me Amanda.” My mom glances at me quickly before shaking Kit’s hand. I don’t think the color in her cheeks is entirely from the cold anymore.
“Hello, Kit.” My dad’s appeared, umbrella in hand, holding a palm out to him.
I watch them shake hands, chewing the inside of my cheek anxiously. My relationship with my dad might be messy right now, but he’s still my dad. I want him to like Kit.
“Good to see you, Professor Tate,” Kit greets politely.
My dad harrumphs in response. If I didn’t know their personalities, I’d think my parents had designatedgood copandbad coproles before we arrived.
He glances at me next. “Hello, Collins.”
“Hi, Dad,” I reply.
Kit looks over, a small furrow forming between his eyes as my cool tone registers.
“Let’s head inside before we’re all soaked,” Mom says, filling the lingering pause.
“Go ahead,” Kit tells me. “I’ll grab the stuff from the car.”