“She do,” Pluto agreed softly. “But Pressure be acting a mess at them games.”
I lifted a brow slightly, and couldn’t help but laugh because something like that only made sense to my son. “Oh God. In what way?”
Pluto laughed under her breath, already shaking her head. “In every way. He loud, he standing up the whole time, yelling at refs like he’s coaching the team. If she don’t win something, he be ready to fight and argue like it’s the end of the world.”
I exhaled lightly, the amusement settling in. “That sounds like him.”
“He be talking about ‘nah, run that back, y’all cheated,’ and Zurie just be standing there embarrassed,” she added, smiling wider now. “But she love it, though. She act like she don’t, but she do.”
I nodded, already able to picture it. “He has always been competitive.”
“That’s an understatement,” Pluto said, laughing again. “Even at home, if she’s practicing, he right there. If she tired, he tellin’ her to keep going. If she mess up, he’s making her do it again.”
“And how does she respond to that?” I asked.
“She push through it,” Pluto said, her tone softening. “She’s always wanting to make him proud.”
That settled with me for a moment.
“And the boys?” I asked, shifting slightly.
Pluto smiled again, this time warmer. “Prestyn is into everything. He running all over the place, climbing on stuff he got no business climbing on and asking questions all day.“
I could not help but smile at that.
“And Kaylon?” I asked.
“That one…” she paused, laughing. “You know he’s quieter, but he watch everything.“
“That is a dangerous combination,” I said.
I allowed myself to relax into the conversation, listening as she spoke, watching the way her face softened when she talked about them.
Lunch was announced shortly after, and we gathered in the dining room where the table had been set. The chef had prepared a spread that reflected both comfort and elegance. There was herb roasted lamb with a rich glaze, grilled salmon laid over a bed of seasoned greens, creamy garlic mashed potatoes, buttered asparagus, and warm rolls placed neatly in baskets. A lighter dish of lemon chicken sat alongside a fresh salad with crisp vegetables, and for the children there were smaller plates prepared with care.
Wine had been poured, though I barely touched mine.
We took our seats, and the room filled with conversation and laughter that moved easily between us. Pressure spoke about things happening outside of the home, his tone relaxed but confident, while Pluto added to the conversation with ease.
The children spoke over one another at times, excited, sharing small details that meant everything to them. I listened, smiling and responding when needed, but also allowing myself to simply observe.
I looked around the table, at my husband seated beside me, at my son across from me, at the woman he had chosen, and the children they were raising, and something settled heavy in my spirit.
I kept my composure, lifting my glass once, letting the rim touch my lips without truly drinking, and set it back down as if nothing had shifted inside me.
Kojo’s eyes found me more than once.
He did not speak on it, but I knew him well enough to understand that he saw what I was trying to hide. His gaze lingered just long enough to ask questions he had not yet voiced, and I gave him nothing in return except the same calm expression I had perfected over time.
After dinner, we moved back into the living area, the children settling near us, leaning into my lap and climbing onto Kojo without hesitation. I held them close, kissing their faces, smoothing their hair and memorizing the way they felt against me.
“You’re not leaving just yet,” I told them softly.
“We’ll be back,” Pressure said, watching me.
“I expect you to be,” I replied, meeting his eyes.
When it was time for them to go, I walked them to the entrance, holding each of them again, pressing kisses to their cheeks, my hands lingering just a moment longer each time.
