Park Avenue Prince(62)

That seemed like a lot of kids.

Harper came out to greet us as we got out of the car, her arms outstretched. “I’m so excited you’re here.” She pulled us both into a hug.

“Harper! I need your boob,” Max shouted from inside the house.

“If only that were true,” she muttered as she guided us in. “Oh, how I long for the days when Max was first in line for some boob action.”

“She’s breastfeeding,” Grace explained.

“Sometimes I feel like a cow,” Harper replied. “I just exist for my milk and wonder if I’ll get slaughtered when I dry up.”

Grace laughed at Harper’s dramatic drawl. “Welcome to Connecticut, Sam.”

Harper turned and grinned. “Yes, welcome. You’ll be happy to know you won’t be required to breastfeed during your stay.”

“I appreciate it,” I replied.

As soon as we got through the door, Max kissed Grace on the cheek and then handed the baby to Harper before shaking my hand.

“Let’s have a beer. I need to celebrate doubling the number of men in the house,” Max said as he dove into the fridge, bringing out a bottle of wine and two beers.

“I’ve been expressing milk all week so I can have a drink tonight,” Harper said. “Then we’re all happy, right?” she said, cooing to Lizzie. “You’re fed and I’m drunk. Perfect.”

I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to laugh about breast milk, so I tried to keep my face neutral.

“Can I have a drink, Dad?” Amanda asked. “In France, kids my age have wine with dinner, you know.”

“Well, we’re not in France,” Max replied.

Amanda rolled her eyes and handed Amber to Grace, who puckered her lips. Amber kissed her. They were clearly comfortable with each other. This was a side of Grace I’d not seen before.

“Down,” Amber said, wriggling in Grace’s arms. Grace bent and put her on the floor.

She glanced up at me. “What are you thinking?” she asked, slipping her arm around my waist.

“He’s thinking this seems a lot like a zoo,” Harper said.

Not exactly, but it was noisy and chaotic and the relaxed, family atmosphere stirred something hidden deep within me.

“Why don’t you start on dinner?” Max suggested. “Amanda’s making lasagna.”

“But you’re going to help, right?” Amanda asked, turning back to her dad.

“I’m going to be here, but you can do this. You’ve watched me make it a thousand times. You’re going to college in a couple of years. You need to learn how to cook. I spoil you.”#p#分页标题#e#

I remembered my dad cooking on the weekends. He would run my mom a bath and then prepare dinner, standing me on a stool next to him until I was big enough to reach the counter on my own and we’d talk about school and I’d stir things and shred cheese and generally think I was helping. Amanda was a few years older than I had been the last time I’d cooked with my father.

“You mean I need to learn how to cook because I’m a girl.”

“No, you need to learn because you should be able to feed yourself decent meals. Stop being a pain.” Max sat on one of the bar stools opposite the counter. “We’ll sit here and watch,” he said as Amanda tied an apron to her waist.

Had my father had the same kind of love for me I saw in Max’s eyes?

I knew the answer. I recognized the expression Max wore as one I’d seen on my father’s face every time he looked at me.

“Get everything you’ll need out on the counter,” Max said, then turned to me. “How’s business?”

Grateful for the distraction from the whirring inside my head, I said, “Good actually.” Grace and I took seats next to Max. “The market is tough at the moment, but I think that’s an opportunity. It stops people from playing the real estate market like it’s a game of blackjack, which can’t be a bad thing.” I took a swig of beer.

“I saw you’re developing that site by Battery Park.”

“Yeah. It’s such a great location. It’s underutilized at the moment.”

For a very long time my social interaction had comprised of Angie and Chas. I wasn’t used to new people and I wasn’t used to being with so many voices in a non-work environment. The memories of my own childhood were growing stronger. I tried to convince myself that Connecticut with Max and Harper wasn’t anything like my childhood home because I’d never had any brothers and sisters. All the noise—babies crying, people laughing—and the child paraphernalia littering every room in the house were all alien.