Hadley Jane crouched on her knees on the chair at the head of the table. Her silver-and-white dress matched the Barbie’s. She stilled, wide-eyed, as everyone sang “Happy Birthday.”
She blew out her candles. Sebastian clapped along with everyone else, then took the long way around to the kitchen. He found CeCe there, cutting the cake skirt, surrounded by her sister, a daughter, and a son-in-law. Holding a knife covered in frosting, she paused long enough to give him one of her assessing looks before hauling him down into a one-armed hug. “I saw your face in there when I brought in the cake. You were thinking that it’s too small for everyone.” She clucked her tongue. “As if I’d feed this whole group a little itty-bitty cake! Those—” she waved the knife in the direction of two enormous sheet cakes—“are the cakes for the family.”
“I deeply apologize for my doubt. I should have known better.”
“You missed lunch, so it’s not good enough at this point for you to stand there apologizing and looking pretty as a mess of fried catfish. Come over here and start delivering cake.”
He’d missed lunch because he’d been buying supplies for tonight’s dinner with Leah. He served cake until everyone had the size of slice they preferred.
“Sit down, Sebastian,” CeCe ordered. “I saved you a plate.”
He settled at the kitchen table, which overlooked the back deck. A meal of pot roast, carrots, and mashed potatoes landed in front of him.
“Thank you.” His mouth watered, and he remembered how hungry he’d been the first time he’d come to this house and she’d fed him. Starving, really. For much more than food.
Ben and several others took the remaining chairs and made progress on their cake. After a time, CeCe demanded, “Eugene! Where are you hiding? Don’t think you’re going to get away from here without playing your saxophone for us!”
“Yeah,” Hersh seconded.
For CeCe, no Coleman event would be complete without one of Eugene’s mediocre sax solos. Everyone responded with enthusiasm larger than Eugene’s talent. The older man retrieved his instrument and played something that sounded like it might be the soft jazz hit “Just the Two of Us.”
Hadley Jane appeared at Sebastian’s side. He pushed his chair back so she had room to climb onto his lap. “Thank you for the dollhouse,” she said just loud enough for him to hear.
“You haven’t even opened your gifts yet.”
“But I know that’s what you got me.”
The last time he’d seen her, she’d asked him very seriously to buy her a bright pink L.O.L. Surprise! Cottage for her birthday. He had mad respect for her because she’d chosen her mark well. She’d known he was good for it.
She reached up and twisted the hair at the back of his neck around one of her fingers. How long did he have before she’d stop doing that? Another year? Two? It hurt to love children who kept insisting on growing all the time.
“Can we play fighting horses?” she asked him.
He didn’t want to play fighting horses. For one thing, he didn’t like fighting horses. For another, once they started that up, they wouldn’t be able to stop until all the Coleman grandkids had a turn.
Unfortunately for him, he was more likely to quit his job than he was to say no to Hadley Jane.
“Anything for you,” he told her.
A few more minutes of the concert droned past.
“Is it almost over?” she asked.
“One never knows.”
As soon as Eugene finished and took his false-humble bows, Hadley Jane grasped Sebastian’s hand and Ben’s hand and pulled them toward the family room.
“Are we playing fighting horses?” Ben asked Sebastian, correctly reading the situation.
Before Sebastian could reply, Hadley Jane yelled, “Fighting horses!” loud enough to alert her cousins.
“Had I known to expect this, little girl,” Sebastian commented, “I’d have brought my knee pads.”
“Exactly.” Ben lowered onto all fours. “Fractured kneecaps weren’t really part of my weekend plans.”
“If anyone’s going to fracture their kneecaps, it’s going to be me. You only weigh a buck fifty.” Sebastian went to his hands and knees a few feet from Ben.
Ben laughed. “Unlike some people, I’m fit.”
“Thin isn’t the same thing as fit.”
“Heavy isn’t the same thing as fit, either.”
“It’s a good thing for me, then, that muscular is.”
Hadley Jane climbed onto Sebastian’s back and commanded her little cousin to run and go get two pool noodles out of the hall closet.
Two of the boys tried to climb onto him behind Hadley Jane, who protested loudly. Three or four other kids all rushed to beat the others onto Ben’s back. They ended up getting there at the same time and entering into a king-of-the-mountain-type struggle, which turned into a wrestling match. Sebastian and Ben tickled the kids and, at the same time, attempted to prevent them from hurting one another.
He hadn’t wanted to play fighting horses, but now that he was covered in laughing kids, belonging settled over him. He didn’t fit in here perfectly. But this was as close as he ever came to fitting in. He’d eaten Coleman family pot roast a hundred times before. He knew that the lamp on that sofa table hadn’t worked for a year and that the door to the hallway bathroom stuck. He knew when to humor CeCe and when to compliment her. He understood the rivalries and personalities of the nieces and nephews. And he knew that Ben Coleman was the best friend he’d ever have.
In time, with work, he had to believe their friendship would be all right.
Typically when they played fighting horses, Ben and Sebastian were an even bet. Ben was quicker. Sebastian was stronger.
Tonight though, Sebastian took his punishment, allowing Ben’s riders to whack him in the head and shoulders with a pool noodle.
Since he was the one eating dinner with Leah tonight, taking it on the chin during fighting horses felt like the least he could do.
All day Leah had told herself not to concede too much time or mental energy to her upcoming visit to Sebastian’s house. It was merely an engagement on her calendar that promised to be diverting. Nothing more.
However, the commonsense self-talk hadn’t stopped her from going through the same time-consuming process she’d taken when preparing for dinner out with Sebastian. Long shower. Makeup. Time styling her hair into tousled waves. She dressed carefully in an orange V-neck sweater, gray capri pants, and silver flats.
All this made her feel, sheepishly, like an animal undertaking elaborate mating rituals when said animal had heretofore been too smart for elaborate mating rituals.
She parked in front of his house, then carried the miniature plastic disco ball she’d purchased up the walkway. The lawn, she noted, looked to have been expertly mowed.
If a stranger were to approach this house or study Sebastian’s career, they might assume that he’d lived a charmed life, that he’d had every advantage handed to him. When, in fact, the opposite was true.
He opened his front door before she had a chance to knock and surveyed her with eyes both piercing and warm. His black hair was combed starkly into place. The severity of his slate-colored crewneck shirt and low-slung jeans emphasized the rugged planes of his body.