Page 15 of Power Play

“Where’s Maya?” Ava asks me when I step into the kitchen. She’s holding Meghan in her arms as Angie stands beside her with a plate of appetizers.

“She wanted to go outside.”

“With Drake?” Angie strolls toward me to leave the room, but my answer makes her pause.

“She’s with Clay.”

“What?” both girls say in unison.

I snort, shaking my head. Their reaction is priceless but still not even close to how speechless I was. “She wanted to go outside, to be with Clay.”

“They are actually so cute,” Nevaeh gushes as she joins us in the kitchen. “When I was about to leave, she started talking to him about someone named Bon-Bon, and he was really into the conversation. Like, genuinely interested. Asking questions, making her tell him more. The man is dad material.” She notices the look on my face and smiles awkwardly. “Um, sorry, it’s not my place to say anything.”

“You’re not wrong,” Ava says slowly. “Colt calls Clay the baby whisperer because kids always like him. Michael adores him, just like Xander and Bella’s daughter, Isla. The last time Clay visited, he took them both to the beach and spent the whole day looking after them, making sure they had fun.” Her gaze meets mine. “He’s amazing.”

I stare at Ava, then pick up a stack of plates and turn around. “I know,” I say, more to myself than to her, and walk out of the room.

Today is full of surprises, and it’s not over yet.

Chapter 6

A Dance

LAYLA

Now, August

Sometimes I thinkabout relationships as a form of dancing. One step forward when things are fine, two steps back when there’s an argument or a little squabble. Lean in when your partner needs you, lean away when one of you needs space. Watch your step and follow the rhythm to avoid problems. The more in harmony a couple is, the more perfect their dance turns out.

My dance with Eli when we became a couple was never good. With Clay, on the other hand? Ten out of ten, not a single foot was hurt in the process. What’s more fascinating? Even after years apart, our dance is still the same—if you ignore the little hiccup that happened when we first saw each other today. We’re both at the party, spending time with our friends, laughing and joking, sitting near each other, and there’s no awkwardness, no tension. It’s like we’re following the choreography that only we know, with just a subtle glance at each other to check the next move.

The catch? We are dancing to avoid each other.

“Goodness, Michael!” I turn my head toward Ava’s voice. She stands with her hands on her hips, glaring at her son from under furrowed eyebrows. “What are you doing?”

My gaze wanders to Michael, who’s standing near a swimming pool with his hands behind his back. The smile he’s trying to suppress gives away that he’s up to something. I smirk, pressing my glass to my lips, and take a sip of my drink. Cold liquid slides down my throat, and I sigh, relaxing into the chair, watching Ava scold her son. I focus on Michael’s best friend, Isla. She’s standing beside him, and her hands are also behind her back. The little girl is unmistakably beautiful—long brown hair collected into two thick braids, deep blue eyes with long dark eyelashes and plump lips. She’s as gorgeous as her mom. She didn’t get a single trait from her equally handsome dad.

“Show me your hands.” Ava seethes. “Both of you.”

Michael and Isla glance at each other, and bursts of laughter spring out of their mouths. Turning around, they both run away from the swimming pool and straight into the house, two water guns still in their hands.

Busted.

I hide my wide grin behind my glass as Ava slumps onto the chair next to me. “Tell me it’ll get easier.”

“It’ll get easier.” I tell her what she wants to hear.

Ava groans and grabs a glass of rosé from the table. “It’s not helping.” She brings the glass to her lips and lowers it without taking a sip. “He’s only six, but sometimes he tests my patience way too hard. I already found one gray hair last week! I’m sure it’s because of all the stress. And Meghan will grow up watching her brother do whatever the hell he wants.”

“Says the saint of all saints,” I comment snarkily. Setting my glass back on the table, I peer at her. “Give him some grace, Ava. Michael is funny, friendly, and sometimes naughty, yes, but he’s kind and smart. He loves his parents and his little sister.Just watch him with Meghan or with Isla, and you’ll see you’re raising a good kid. Stop ripping him a new one every time he acts like a child should. When did you and I ever just sit down and do nothing when our parents were having a party? We were the reason our houses were upside down, not Drake. He’s simply following in your footsteps.”

She studies me with her eyes narrowed, then she exhales dejectedly. “Why are you always right?”

I reach to her and wrap my arm around her shoulder, then pull her into me. “Most of the time, I’m wrong, and you of all people should know that better than anyone.”

Ava chuckles when I say that.

“But if I can help you see things from a different perspective? I’ll always do that for you. Michael and Isla are having fun. Didn’t you see them playing Marco Polo with Nevaeh?”

---