He turns his head back to me, his gaze wide. “No, Baby, it’s not—” “Kenny?” My dad’s voice infiltrates my bubble of panic. My head snaps to the side. “Dad?” He’s halfway across the room, walking straight toward us. I look down to where my hand is on the table. Where Luther had his hand over mine. Did Dad see that? I look at the bags of coffee standing on the edge of the table. Please let that have blocked his view. “What are you two doing here?” Dad’s eyes are narrowed when he reaches our table. “Hey, man.” Luther somehow sounds completely normal. “I’m just running into everyone today.”
