“I’m so sorry,” I gushed and dropped my bag on a comfy velvet armchair before leaning into Manda’s ready hug. “I kept trying to leave for the last two hours, but Avery had a mile-long list of things we needed to discuss and the TV people had their own lists and, well.” I forced a tired smile. “I’m here now.”
“No worries,” Manda said, though I could tell by the eyes I had known since the years of N’Sync that she was disappointed I had missed dinner. “Your roasted buttermilk chicken and garlic mashed potatoes are keeping warm in the oven.”
“Mmm,” I said in concert with my rumbling stomach. I tried keeping the disbelief out of my voice. “It smells amazing.”
Manda narrowed her eyes at me. “You sound surprised.” She pursed her lips. “Okay, fine. The chicken and the potatoes are from Whole Foods, but!” She lifted one finger in triumph. “I made, with my own hands, a spaghetti squash casserole with kale and edamame. It’s delicious. Even Jack liked it.”
We’d entered the Henricks’ cozy dining room. Manda had painted one wall a deep, oceanic blue, and it pulled the space together like a cozy blanket. The long oak farm table where the men sat had been her grandmother’s. Jack had Zara and Dane on each of his knees, Kai was across from them, and Polly sat in queen position at the head of the table. She appeared to be trying to kill something on the tray of her high chair.
“I did like that casserole. She’s right,” Jack said.
I watched to see if his face would betray the sure and utter lie, but the man was a professional. He’d been married to Manda and her cooking for a very long time. “But, babe, please don’t start in about going alkaline,” he said, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. “Or paleo. Or flavor-free. Or whatever nonsense that woman at the co-op keeps proselytizing about.”
“Baby steps,” Manda said quietly to me as she went to retrieve my plate from the oven.
Kai stood from the table and pulled me into a hug. I felt myself relax into his arms, and I took a deep breath of his clean smell: soap, fresh air, maybe a touch of cinnamon from his day in the kitchen. He kissed me quickly on the cheek. A growth of new whiskers brushed my skin.
“Hi,” he said, his smile reaching me from his lips and his eyes. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too,” I said, lingering with his arms around my waist. “Sorry I’ve been texting more than calling.”
It was true. My communication efforts had been repeatedly thwarted as the show and the restaurant absorbed all my time. Since our starry night three weeks ago, Kai and I had met each other for a single rushed coffee date at a spot just down the street from Thrill. He had met me between takes and had been patient and gracious about several other failed attempts to get together since then. Our texts had been sweet and sassy, but I felt a rush of adrenaline to finally be in the same room with him again.
Jack snorted. “Texting is to modern couples what love letters were to previous generations, don’t you know that, Char?” I could hear him ramping up for one of his favorite topics: how technology depletes the human spirit. “The thing about technology,” he said, bouncing Dane and Zara on his knees and making them laugh hysterically, “is that it saps all the human out of the human being.”
“I’m okay with the texts,” Kai said into my ear. “As long as I can see your actual face as much as possible. You’re much more beautiful than emoticons. Except for maybe the flamenco dancer.”
I laughed, but I really wanted to purr. “That flamenco dancer is a looker,” I said, feeling lovely even after twelve hours spent in the company of lights, heat, and grease.
“Sit.” Manda returned with my food and ordered me to the empty chair and the only untouched spot at the table. “Kai, please, if you would, pour Charlie some wine and enjoy adult conversation while we put our offspring into the baths they desperately need. Who’s stinky?”
“I am!” Dane announced with a sense of pride that many men never relinquish.
“I am not,” Zara said. “But can I go first? And use bubbles?”
“Perhaps,” Jack said as he stood. He carried both the older kids like sacks of potatoes while Manda followed behind with a sleepy Polly. Before hitting the stairs, Manda stopped by the table and lowered Polly’s head to my level. I kissed her repeatedly on top of her fine blond hair, behind the ears, on the one spot of her plump cheek that had escaped puréed carrots.
“Love you, Pol,” I said as Manda ferried her away. “Can I read the other two some stories before they go to sleep?”
“Hallelujah and yes, you may,” Manda called. “I’ll call down when it’s time.”
I turned to Kai and speared my first bite of buttermilk chicken. “You in for story-time?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “But I don’t want to embarrass you when they like my voices better than yours.”
I made a face. “Your voices? What is this, a Disney movie?”