KENNEDY

When his parents arrive, followed by Payton and her family, the nerves intensify and creep up the back of my throat, choking me. I am terrified they will not like me, especially when Payton has the ear of his parents, even after all these years. The neighborhood reminds me of something from a novel—white picket fences, manicured lawns, everything in place.

I lived in an area like this as a child. It’s the ideal location to raise a child, so I can see why Tyler and Payton thought the Hudsons would be a good fit for Blake.

My ass is stuck to the leather seat of Tyler’s BMW race car, my body not responding to Tyler as he tells me it’s time to get out and meet his parents. Today is a big deal for me and for us as a couple.

While I never had an issue with my boyfriend’s parents before, this is not your regular meet-and-greet, sit down dinner with the family. I have every reason to be nervous.

“C’mon, babe.” Tyler tugs at my cardigan to get my attention. “You have nothing to be afraid of. I promise they don’t bite…but I’ll bite you later if you want.” He says the last part with a wink before slipping out of the car.

He walks around to my door and pulls it open, holding out his hand to help me out of the car.

Before I even have a second to straighten my dress and compose myself, Tyler’s dad is on our side with his mother. But they are not the people who capture my attention. A beautiful woman, who reminds me of a blonde version of Sydney, polished to perfection and without a hair on her head out of place walks toward us. To her left is a tall and muscular man around the same age as Tyler with dark cropped hair. She’s gorgeous, so it’s no surprise that her husband is attractive and unblemished. Their little boy skips along the pavement next to his father, singing a song to himself.

This entire scenario feels so surreal. Tyler looks about as uncomfortable as a person can be in their own skin as if he’s ready to bolt down the street at any moment. I cannot even imagine how hard this must be for him, forced to see his ex girlfriend with her new family every month, a constant reminder of what he could’ve had with her combined with the loss of his son.

I feel for him, my heart wrenching along with my gut, clenching as if his anxiety has somehow transferred to me. Tyler’s face twists in disgust when he locks eyes with Payton’s husband. I’m not even sure of his name since he has never spoken about him, only their son who plays with Blake.

“Hi,” Tyler’s mother says in a singsong voice, cheerful and with a big smile that reveals her gums. “You must be Kennedy. Tyler has told me so much about you, sweetie.

Apparently, Tyler gets his looks from his mother, because even at her age, somewhere in her late fifties, she is stunning. Long blonde hair falls over her shoulders. Her high cheekbones and sculpted eyebrows cause her blue eyes to jump from her face. For an older woman, either she has good genes, or she has kept up with her beauty regimen.

She pulls me into her arms, wrapping herself around me like a blanket, her sweet perfume filling my nostrils. My mom is the opposite of warmth, more like cold and insane, and never without at least a half full wine glass.

“I’m Tania Kane. It’s so nice to meet you,” she says, releasing me from her death grip. “You are such a natural beauty. Tyler did not do you justice over the phone.”

“Aww thank you, Mrs. Kane. I appreciate you saying that. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You know,” she lowers her voice to a register I can hear, “it’s so sweet of you to come along with my Tyler. This hasn’t been easy on him.”

“I’m here to support him.” I flash a tiny smile, the nerves kicking up a notch as she takes a step back from me to make room for her husband.

“Carl Kane,” his father says, extending his hand to me.

Unlike his wife, there’s a professional tone to in his voice, no hugging or loving embrace just a handshake.

I shake his hand with a tiny smile. “Kennedy Lockwood. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kane.”

“Same here. My son tells us that you’re a sports reporter.”

“Yes, Sir. I own Sports Buzz, it’s a small—”

“That little online paper that writes articles about Alex Parker all the time?” He asks, cutting me off, his words tearing through me and making this conversation awkward.

My small paper? While that part is true, it hurts a bit to hear those words come from someone else’s mouth.

“Are you writing a story about my son? You know what happens here stays between our families. We don’t need our lives broadcasted for everyone to read about.”

“Dad!” Tyler screams so loud Noah jumps, clinging to his father’s side. “Kennedy is my girlfriend. What she does for a living is irrelevant. Now can you get off her ass so we can go inside to see Blake? We have a few hours to spend with him, and we’re not wasting it having one of your famous interrogations.”

Tyler grinds his teeth, his face turning bright red, looking like a volcano ready to explode. He has had a strained relationship with his parents ever since they convinced him to give Blake up for adoption to pursue his hockey career. You can cut the tension between them with a knife.

Carl narrows his eyes at his son for a second, shooting off a warning glance, and plasters a fake smile on his face. “Kennedy, we’re glad you could join us today.”

He hooks his arm around Tania’s back and hugs her against his chest. Tyler has none of Carl’s physical attributes though I have a feeling they butt heads so much because they are a lot alike regarding personality.

His parents turn around and toward the house, still joined at the hip, allowing Payton enough room to slip into the conversation. She moves with such poise and grace, a gentle sway to her hips that draws my attention to her knee length boho skirt. Carl and Tania greet her with smiles and hugs, treating her as though she is part of their family. On the other hand, I get the grand inquisition from Carl, King of the Death Stare, about my small paper.

This visit has not started on a positive note, further solidifying my reservations about meeting Tyler’s family so soon.

“Hi,” Payton says to me, too excited to put into words. “Tania has been telling me about you all week. We’re so glad you can join us.”

If I were meeting the new girlfriend of my ex boyfriend, I would not be glowing like a ray of sunshine. Unfazed by the awkwardness of this exchange, she does the opposite of Carl and Tania and leans in to kiss me on the cheek. The level of weirdness now is about a fifteen on a scale from one to ten. I never expected Payton to be so…sweet.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say, choking on my words but still trying to recover. “Thanks for having me.”

“Of course.” Her smile reaches up to her wide, blue eyes. “I am so glad that Tyler finally found someone that he likes enough to bring with him. You’ll love Blake and the Hudsons.”

“Payton,” Tyler interjects, and I am thankful because that leaves less for me to say. “Can we take this inside, please?”

Standing here with Tyler’s ex girlfriend and her family is strange, to say the least. But with him barking out orders at everyone as if he’s shielding me from the people who love him, his unease takes the tension up a notch.

“As always, good to see you, Tyler,” Payton says in a sardonic tone, her pleasant facial expression shifting to full-blown irritation.

Noah holds up his little hand and waves, saying hello several times in a row in a playful voice.

Her husband says, “How’s it going?” his voice rough yet smooth. “I’m Tim. Nice to meet you.”

We shake hands and exchange pleasantries and then follow behind Carl and Tania up the long driveway and to the front door. Carl knocks twice before the door swings open, a thirty-something couple appearing in the entryway with a little blond boy running between their legs to get outside.

“Mom Mom and Pop Pop are here!” He screams with excitement. When he notices Tyler behind them, his smile widens. “Uncle Tyler, I got a new toy I want to show you.”

“Hey, buddy,” Tyler says, bending down to hug Blake, causing my chest to tighten when I get a good look at the pained expression on his face.

I am confused as all hell. Why does he call Tyler’s parents Mom Mom and Pop Pop when he calls him Uncle Tyler?

My heart fills with so many emotions for Tyler, all of them flooding through me at once. I’m happy he still has the ability to see his son, sad because his son has no idea he’s his biological father, and worried about the emotional toll this day will take on him by the time we leave. But I am glad he chose to share this part of his life with me.

After I meet Britt and Steve, Blake introduces himself by hugging my leg, reminding me of how loving Tyler can sometimes be. Blake could be Tyler’s twin, with the same short blond hair, big blue eyes, and a smile that could light up an entire room.

We step inside the house and into the living room. Britt offers us coffee, and I am about to accept—because who turns down coffee—when Blake yanks on Tyler’s shirt, attempting to drag him toward the basement.

“Uncle Tyler, you need to see my new gun. It’s so cool. I have one for you to play with, too.”

Tyler turns his head to me as Blake does his best to get him to follow. “Wanna come with us?”

“Yeah, I’d love to,” I say, relieved that I won’t have to sit and have an adult conversation with his parents and extended family.

In all honesty, his dad scares the crap out of me with the way he continues to check me out as if he’s wondering if I am here to get dirt on his son. He’s suspicious of me. I had a feeling this would not be easy. After all, I am a newbie, intruding on their secret lives.

I can understand his father’s reservations about me, especially given my profession and the fact our relationship began as an experiment that led to what was supposed to be an interview that had turned into hot sex. But I have his best interests at heart. I care for Tyler more than I had every expected when we first met. It was supposed to be sex, smoking hot sex, but we have become so much more to each other over the past two months.

As soon as we reach the bottom landing, Blake runs around the basement, full of energy. He’s a cute kid and what I would imagine Tyler was like as a child. To see them together cuts a hole in my chest. I haven’t seen Tyler this happy since we met. But despite his excitement to be with his son, I can tell how much he is hurting on the inside and concealing his feelings. We haven’t been together long, but I can read him, detect when there’s something off about him.

Between playing on the floor with Blake and the toy guns Steve had bought for him, Tyler glances up at me. He studies my face for far too long before he mouths, thank you, which I assume has to do with accompanying him here. I am crushing on Tyler so hard I may be falling for him. And, if I want to fit into his world, become a permanent fixture in his life, I need to get used to spending the last Sunday of the month with Blake and the rest of Tyler’s family. I take a seat on the carpet next to him, touching his knee to let him know I am with him and that I am not going anywhere.

He smiles and leans over to kiss my cheek.

Ending our intense staring contest, Blake jumps in front of Tyler and me with his gun raised and pointed at Tyler, firecracker sounds coming from the toy as he holds down the trigger. “You’re dead, Uncle Tyler.”

“You shot me,” Tyler whines. He holds his arm over his heart and moans as he falls to the side and onto the carpet.

Blake laughs, jumping up and down, and turns to shoot at Noah who has just stumbled down the stairs with Tyler’s father. Noah must know the game and acts as though he has died, pretending to fall into the wall.

“Pop Pop, you’re dead, too.” Blake walks over to Carl and shoots him in the chest, an evil cackle escaping his lips.

I see so much of Tyler in his son, and it kills me that this little boy will never know that he is his father. Between Payton and Blake, Tyler has an open wound so deep I wasn’t sure if I could reach him, the loss of them both leaving a hole in Tyler’s heart. Through sex, we managed to find a mutual connection, and over time, the walls Tyler had built to keep himself safe started to crumble for me.

As Tyler rolls onto his other side, his eyes trained on Blake, I watch as the pain scrolls across his face. My insides twist into a knot. For as guarded as Tyler is about his personal life, I can read everything about him, see the shift in his demeanor as he watches Blake run around the room with Noah.

Tyler holds out his hand and helps me to my feet. We stand next to Carl, our arms interlocked, Tyler holding me close as we watch the boys play with each other in complete and uncomfortable silence.

Carl finally speaks, which takes the awkwardness down a notch but not for long. “So, Kennedy, are you covering the Stanley Cup Finals for your paper?”

“Dad!” Tyler’s words have so much anger behind them. “Kennedy is not here to write an article about us. I know that’s what you are thinking, but get that idea out of your head. Do we have to talk about hockey every time we are together?”

Looking away from his son, Carl clears his throat and zones in on the boys. “We can talk about something other than hockey, Tyler. I can’t help it if I am curious about Kennedy’s job and if she’s following the last game of the Finals. I know I don’t have to tell you how big game seven is when it comes to the Cup.”

Tyler sucks in a deep breath, his father testing his patience. He hates that his father makes everything about hockey. After seven years in the league, he had hoped his dad would tone it down, stop being so demanding when it comes to his career, but he has to poke and prod Tyler to be better. Carl has good intentions. My father does the same thing when it comes to Sports Buzz.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” I interject, an attempt at easing the fire brewing between them. Locking eyes with Carl, I finish, “Yes, I am covering the Stanley Cup Finals. We were planning to watch the game with a few friends tomorrow.”

His face perks up, the mood in the room shifting. Thank God. I cannot stand another second of the weird vibes Tyler has been shooting his dad since we got here. The two of them are so much alike, both stubborn and have to control the situation that they always butt heads. I doubt they even realize how much air they suck from the room when they are together.

“Who are you predicting to win? As much as I hate the Pens, my money is on them for the win.”

Carl has so much passion for hockey that it almost seems odd that Tyler lacks some of his enthusiasm. I guess when you live the sport day in and day out for most of your life, it must lose some of its appeal.

“I’m not sure how I could be from Pennsylvania and not cheer for them. But even if I weren't, I would also have to go with the Pens for the win.”

A tiny smile crosses his lips at my response. “You favor the Flyers over the Penguins…I hope.”

It wasn’t a question but more of a statement. The long-standing rivalry between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh is something any decent hockey fan is aware of though I am not so sure I want to admit that I cheer for both teams in front of two diehard Flyers fans, not when one of them plays for the team.

I return his smile. “Of course I do.”

Tyler places his big hand on my back and pulls me closer, the scent of his laundry detergent filling my nostrils as he leans in the kiss my cheek. “That’s my girl.”

A loud scream erupts from the opposite end of the room, ripping us from our adult conversation and back to the boys.

“Hey, guys,” Tyler says walking toward them, “break it up. Blake, you’re hurting Noah. Let him go.”

Blake has Noah in a headlock on the floor, laughing as Noah squirms beneath him. He looks up at Tyler with a wide grin. “He has to tap out first.”

“C’mon, buddy. If you hurt him, he won’t play with you anymore when he comes over.” Tyler sinks to his knees next to the boys and pulls them apart.

Blake releases his death grip on Noah’s neck, and Noah crawls away from him, his face bright red and still trying to catch his breath. When I see the tears in Noah’s eyes, I walk over to him and sit next to him on the floor.

“Are you okay?” I ask Noah.

He nods, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. “I want my mommy.” His voice is almost a whisper.

“Okay, sweetie.” I push myself up from the floor and take Noah’s hand in mine, helping him to his feet. “Let’s go see your mommy.”

Tyler is busy giving Blake a quick lecture about how to play well with other kids. He would’ve made such a good father.

By the time we reach the stairs, Carl stops us and drops down to Noah’s height. “How are you feeling, little man?”

“I want to see my mommy.” Noah sniffs with an adorable but sad look on his face.

Carl glances up at me. “I can take him upstairs to sit with Payton. You should hang out with Tyler and Blake.”

I nod, relieved that I don’t have to explain to Payton what had transpired between the boys. Most mothers would get upset about their children roughing with other kids, and I would rather not be in the middle of this situation.

Taking a seat on the carpet next to Tyler and Blake, I let out a quiet sigh. This day has been taxing on all of us. I don’t know how Tyler repeats this every month without having a nervous breakdown. Seeing him with his son almost brings tears to my eyes. I hold them back, all too aware of how emotional I have become since I first walked into the house.

After seeing Tyler and Blake in action, the two of them now playing a portable air hockey game on the floor, my heart fills with so much sadness. Tyler blocks the puck as Blake hits it hard with his paddle, causing Blake to scream out in irritation.

This kid is so damn cute with the little dimple in his cheek and those big blue eyes. He’s so happy and full of life. It makes sense to me why Tyler continues to repeat this monthly practice. I would not want to miss out on Blake’s life once I had gotten to know him either.

“Beat it, kid.” Tyler crashes paddle into the puck with an evil laugh. “You’re on my turf now.”

“When I grow up, I want to be a famous hockey player like you,” Blake announces, stopping the puck in front of his goal.

The proud grin on Tyler’s handsome face makes my insides turn to mush. “Don’t worry, buddy, I will help you get there.”

Blake peeps up from the game at me, and then his focus shifts to Tyler. “Is she your girlfriend, Uncle Tyler?”

“Yes.” Tyler reaches out to squeeze my hand. “Kennedy is my girlfriend.”

“Are you going to get married?”

Why do kids always have to ask such intrusive questions? I wait with nervous anticipation as Tyler responds.

He locks onto me, his eyes and the tone of his voice both serious. “Yes, I’d like to get married some day.”

“To Kennedy?” Blake squeaks when he says my name.

Tyler hasn’t broken our staring contest. My stomach twists like a pretzel as he speaks the three words I was hoping to hear. “I hope so.”

“Are you going to have babies?” Why does this kid keeping grilling Tyler?

Our relationship is so new that this is not the type of conversation either of us were prepared to have, but Tyler doesn’t seem to mind as Blake fires off one question after another.

“I hope so,” Tyler says, his voice low and soft.

I could melt into a puddle on the floor. How did things progress so fast between Tyler and me?

I still have not figured out how our sexual tension turned into something neither of us least expected. Sometimes life comes at you like a puck invading your zone off a rush, but it’s how you adapt to the situation that makes the difference between scoring a goal or coming up short. And with Tyler, I have scored big time.