lips parted, flashing the brightness of her teeth, he felt his heart clench.
“Hey.” Behind him, he heard AJ’s voice. “It’s my house, how come you get the hero’s welcome?”
“Dude, ’cause I got it like that.” Long steps took Dench to Rissa’s open arms and he forgot all about AJ.
Knowing when his presence was not required, AJ stepped past them and pushed the door open. He grinned when his wife and children looked up at him from the middle of a room filled with women and children. Play date , he remembered.
Nia promptly stood from her seat on the bright-colored plastic see-saw, tipping another child over in her rush for her father. Jabari was close behind, and a laughing Marlea just shrugged as she came toward him. It’s good to be the king , AJ thought, scooping up his daughter and son.
A king in his own right, Dench strolled in with his arm around Rissa’s shoulders and surveyed the room. “What’s with all the little people?”
“Play date,” Rissa answered. “I’m not sure why Marlea thought the King holiday would be a good time to bring children together, but since Yvette and I closed the office today, I thought I would help.” Her lips brushed his ear to whisper, “Besides, it’s good practice.”
“Speaking of practice,” AJ leaned in and whispered into Dench’s other ear, “let me show you what to do in a roomful of kids.” He planted a loud wet kiss on Nia’s cheek and one on Jabari’s before letting them slide to the floor. They looked up at him with adoring eyes, then melted into giggles when he winked at them. Lifting his hands to the room at large, he looked at Marlea. She made a “mommy face” and the children took the hint.
“I’d better go help,” Rissa chuckled, peeling away from Dench’s side.
“And that’s all there is to it,” AJ grinned. “Let’s get something to eat.”
“Where’s Mrs. Baldwin? You know she’s got a thing about her kitchen.”
“She’s probably hiding in her apartment, or maybe on the phone in the den. You know she’s got a boyfriend now.”
“No kidding?” Dench followed AJ into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. “Same guy she was with Christmas Eve?”
“Far as I know.” AJ set plates and glasses on the high granite counter. Turning to the range, he lifted lids from the pots and made a face. “Looks like the kids had spaghetti.”
“I like spaghetti.”
AJ shook his head at the pot. “Man, this is little kid spaghetti, all sweet and bland. No garlic, no oregano, no real seasoning. Trust me, this is not the spaghetti you want.”
“How about this, then?” Dench popped a Tupperware container open. “Baked chicken?”
“From last night. Cool.” Looking over his friend’s shoulder, AJ pointed. “Grab that one, that one, and that one.” Taking the containers from Dench, AJ opened them and approved the contents. “A couple of beers, and we’re in business.”
Heaping plates took minutes to heat in the microwave while the two men sat with their longnecks. In the rooms beyond the kitchen, they could see Connie lightly tossing a ball to Jeannette as a trio of three-year-olds chased them. Rissa sat in the middle of the floor with a thumb-sucking child in her lap, reading aloud, while Marlea sang about the wheels on the bus.
AJ shoveled in a mouthful of garlic-laced mashed potatoes, then pointed his fork at the scene before him. “Not sure why Marlea thought the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday would be a good time to bring children together, but when you marry a teacher, even one who holds world records as a runner, you have to expect childhood enrichment.” He dug his fork deeper into his potatoes. “Just think, in a few months, you’ll be sitting here with one of your very own.”
Dench swallowed hard and had to reach for his beer.
AJ jabbed his fork into the chicken. “Of course, they don’t start out like that, running around, talking, eating spaghetti. Yours will be little, an