Opposite of Always(73)

The rest of the Edwards family is far nicer.

Even her dad, which is surprising, because I assumed all dads loathed the idea of anyone dating their daughters.

Maybe Mr. Edwards doesn’t have to waste his time loathing anyone, though. What with Reggie so able and eager.

“Don’t even think about touching my sister under the table, either, Jack,” Reggie says as we sit down for dinner. “Keep your hands and feet where we can see them.”

“Uh, not sure how to keep my feet visible, but I’ll do my best,” I say, trying to laugh him off.

“Reggie,” Mrs. Edwards says. “Keep it up and you’ll get a close-up view of my hands and feet.”

“Are we waiting for Kira before we start eating?” Mr. Edwards asks in a way that would seem to suggest he’d rather not wait.

Mrs. Edwards shrugs. “Whatever Kate wants to do.”

“Let’s give her a few more minutes, maybe,” Kate suggests, and Mr. Edwards’s face drops a little.

Reggie, on the other hand, decides to use this downtime to play a round of Ask Jack Loads of Potentially Uncomfortable Questions.

He begins each question with his hard-hitting pronunciation of Jack, too.

“So, Jack, how many girlfriends have you had, man?”

“Uh, I’m sorry,” I say, looking at Kate for help.

“Reggie,” Kate says.

Reggie is undeterred. “Don’t be sorry, Jack. Just answer the question.”

“Umm,” I stammer. “Well . . .”

“Reggie, leave Jack alone already,” Mrs. Edwards says.

Reggie shoots me a wicked smile. “I’m just making conversation, Mama.”

“I haven’t dated very much. I’ve been mainly focused on school,” I offer.

Mr. Edwards grins. “Kate tells us you’re quite the student, Jack. We take academics very seriously in this house.”

My internal thermostat kicks on the heat despite my already sweaty forehead. “I do okay. I enjoy learning,” I say. I’m a nerd.

“I enjoy learning, too, Jack. For instance, I believe we’d all be interested in learning if you’re trying to smash my sister,” Reggie says, smirking across the table.

“Reggie,” Mrs. Edwards shouts. “Unless you want me to reach across this table and embarrass you, I suggest you get ahold of yourself with a quickness.”

In spite of Mrs. Edwards’s threats to maim Reggie, the way the Edwards family looks over at me after this last question makes me feel as if they wouldn’t mind an answer from me.

Which is awkward.

And definitely not going to happen, because ew, gross, who talks about intimacy with their girlfriend’s parents and baby bro at the dinner table?

“So, Reg, how was Amber Rae last night?” Kate says, eyeing Reggie as if they were having a private conversation telepathically. Which is a downside to only-childship; you don’t get to speak in sibling code.

Reggie sinks in his chair, shakes his head almost imperceptibly, as if to say, Don’t do this, don’t.

“Reggie didn’t see Amber Rae last night. He was studying biology with Quentin and Johnny,” Mrs. Edwards says.

“Oh,” Kate says, her smile like a dare, her eyes still locked on Reggie’s like two nuclear warheads. “My mistake.”

“Maybe we need to have a chat after dinner, Reggie,” Mr. Edwards says, not missing a beat. “About biology.”

“Ha ha,” Reggie says, squirming in his chair. “Nah, Pop, I’m good.”

Mr. Edwards glares at Reggie. “That may have sounded optional, but it’s not.”

Reggie shoots Kate a thanks a lot look and Kate squeezes my hand, my heroine. And maybe I don’t know the code, but apparently, all’s fair in brother-sister warfare.

“Sorry, I’m late, guys. So sorry,” Kira exclaims, bursting into the dining room in a flurry of apologies and forehead kissing. She even kisses me on my forehead.

We say grace and everyone holds hands, and even Reggie manages to put aside his hatred for a thirty-second shout-out to God, taking my hand into his without squeezing the heck out of it.

After dinner, Kira, Kate, and I sit on the front porch, eating ice cream and chocolate cake that Mrs. Edwards made.

I can’t help but remember this is the porch where I once stood in the rain thinking Kate and I were over.

“So, you two are pretty cute,” Kira says.

“You think so?” Kate asks, eyebrows raised.

“Has your big sis ever been wrong?”

Before Kate can answer, the door swings open and Reggie emerges, bowl in hand.

“Don’t even come out here starting mess, Reginald,” Kira commands.

Reggie grumbles but takes a seat on the stairs by himself and starts in on his cake. The three of us get back to laughing and talking, and eventually, when we reach the subject of who’s the next Will Smith, Reggie can no longer pretend not to care.

“It’s gotta be Jaden,” Reggie says. “It only makes sense.”

Mr. and Mrs. Edwards join us with their bowls and Mr. Edwards asks what we’re talking about, and says, “What’s wrong with you kids? Hell, the question should’ve been, who’s the next Denzel? Now, that boy can act.”

Gradually, one by one, the Edwards clan retreats into the house, leaving Kate and me alone on the stairs, the lamppost anchored in her front yard throwing an amber haze into our conversation. “It means a lot that you came here,” she says, looking straight ahead at the empty street.