Page 100 of Redline Baby

Knowing him, it absolutely did.

The pot is still steaming at the center of the table when I say it. I pick up the serving spoon and look at Maren across the round table with its mismatched plates and striped afternoon light coming through the blinds.

"Kit is my boyfriend."

Maren's hand, already reaching for the bread basket, doesn't pause. Rue's does.

Maren gets the basket to Kit before he's finished processing the announcement and sets it beside his plate.

"Oh, obviously. We're so glad you came. Soren never brings anyone."

I watch Kit's face cycle through the landing. He's shocked that I said it, but he's also highly amused. And happy.

Rue has her arms folded on the edge of the table. She's watching Kit while she eats a spoonful of beans.

"How long have you been working with Soren?" Maren asks, spooning something into Kit's bowl before he's confirmed whether he wants it.

"Several months now."

"That's lovely," Maren says, and means it. "Do you ride as well, or just..."

"Mhm. He used to race," I say.

Kit looks at me. A quick, surprised cut of his eyes, like he wasn't expecting it. Then he smiles, suddenly excited.

"Oh," Maren says. "Do you still compete?"

"I used to," Kit says. "Not anymore. Now I just ride."

Rue, who has not touched her bowl, says, "Why do you have a motorcycle?"

Maren says, "Rue," in the gentle way that acknowledges the bluntness.

Kit looks at her, his fork going still between his fingers.

"Because it's fast like a roller coaster. Have you ever been on a roller coaster?"

"Yeah. I went to Disney World with Mom and Uncle Soren when I was four." She considers this for approximately half a second. "Can I have a motorcycle when I grow up, Mom?"

"No," Maren says.

"Yes," I say at exactly the same time.

Maren glares at me. Kit laughs, loud. Rue looks extremely pleased with herself for causing it. The meal moves on. Maren circles back to ask where Kit grew up. He tells her Colorado, and she offers small pieces of her own life in return.

She is good at making people feel loved. She has always been good at that.

After everything that happened with her husband, after the long months of quiet, she became even better at it. As though grief refined rather than complicated her instinct for warmth.

"Do you live with Uncle Soren?" Rue asks.

Maren pauses fractionally.

Kit shrugs.

"Sort of, but I'm there most of the time." He points his fork at Rue's plate. "You should eat your carrots. I ate all of mine."

Rue looks at him.