Page 82 of Shane

"Actually, Shane, I want to talk to you about Kennedy," she says abruptly, her tone shifting.

"Kennedy?" I pause, my fork mid-air. "What about her?"

"I love her father, and there's nothing more I'd like than to have a meaningful relationship with her, but she's blocked me at every turn. I'm at my wits' end. I was hoping you could give me some advice."

"Me?"

The request takes me by surprise, not just because it's about Kennedy, but because of the depth of concern in Mom's voice. She really wants this.

“You spent more time with her than I have. You know her. You have a rapport with her. You convinced her that taking Violet on as a roommate was a good idea during her junior year, didn't you?"

“I seriously doubt anything I said had anything to do with it, Mom." I try to keep my tone neutral because little does she know that Kennedy and I were barely speaking that year.

Sure, I mentioned to Kennedy that it would “be good for her” to take on a roommate, knowing that her father was having some financial struggles, but I don’t think anything I said made a difference. In fact, she might have thrown a sneaker at my face that day. Yeah, she made that decision on her own, and it was a good one. Violet is a great girl, not to mention that Neo is desperately in love with her.

"I know you must have said something, Shane, and we’re so appreciative that you did. Her father didn't want to have to tell her about the tough time the business was going through. He told her as much as he could without freaking her out. He didn’t want her to worry.”

“How’s the business now?” The question slips out, tinged with concern for Kennedy’s father and what this might mean for Kennedy if she eventually decides to join the family business. Right now, I know she’s taken a job at some posh investment firm in Vegas and apparently enjoys it. All this is second-hand information through Neo and Violet, of course.

“It’s doing much better,” Mom assures me. “Everyone loves pizza, right?”

“Yeah, that’s very true.”

“So, back to Kennedy. Will you talk to her?”

“Honestly, Ma, I don't know if I can help you with your step-mommy quest.”

"Why not?" Her gaze sharpens, and I realize that she senses something is off—seeing the hesitation that has less to do with an inability to complete the task and more with personal stakes.

"Because," I start, my voice slowing as I choose my words carefully, "it's not just about what I can say or do. Kennedy's... complicated. She has a lot of walls up, especially about her family. And her dad is getting married again, so it's a lot for her to handle."

"But you could try, Shane. For me?" Her eyes are pleading, and a part of me weakens at the sight.

“Mom, I really don’t want to get involved. It would only make things worse.”

“Wait a minute, Shane Sullivan, is there something I’m missing here?”

“No,” I say too quickly.

She places her fork down on the table.

“Do you care about Kennedy for more than just as a friend?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and loaded with implications. My pause is too long, my silence too telling. Mom watches me, her expression shifting from concern to a dawning realization.

“Oh my God,” she states.

It's not an accusation, but it stirs a mix of anxiety and relief within me. Finally, it’s out. She knows. I’ve never kept a secret from my mother like this in my life. I hated that I had to.

“I love her, Ma.”

“Like in love with her?”

“Unequivocally.”

“You’re telling me this the day before I marry her father?”

“We’re not together. There was no need to tell you at all.”