There’s a tiny tug on my hand and a very hopeful look on Daphne’s face when I turn to her. “Will you play café with us?”
“You’ve only got time for one game,” Isaac says softly. “We need to leave soon.”
“Please?” She pouts.
Christ, no wonder Benji is putty in their hands.
“Of course. Will you show me how to play?”
I follow her to the playhouse that takes up a majority of the lounge room. Dominic sits cross-legged at the window, stacking the tiny cups and saucers into a leaning tower. He turns. Now there are two sets of pleading eyes.
“Uncle Benji can show you.”
He must play this regularly. I’m about to call out to him, but he’s already at my side. He must have followed us over.
We lock eyes.
“After you,” I say.
Benji climbs inside, and it’s a tight fit. His shoulders and knees press up against the sides of the plastic house, and he has to duck his head to see out of the makeshift “delivery window.”
I don’t have words to describe how adorable it is to watch them. Dom and Daphne challenge Benji with increasingly wild requests, giggling every time he plays along. All I know is that I never want today to end.
Eventually, it’s my turn.
“Okay, now you,” Daphne says, tugging on my hand.
“I’ll let Uncle Benji get out first.”
“No, together.”
Benji chuckles. “I don’t think both of us are going to fit inhere, kiddo.”
My heart thumps. With Benji inside, there’s barely any room. The only way I’d fit is on top of him.
“Please?”
Oh, these kids are dangerous.
“Um … okay.”
Benji folds his knees toward his chin, but that doesn’t work, and even if I could squeeze myself into the sliver of space left, neither of us would be able to access the window.
“You’ll have to …” he says and crosses his legs, letting his knees fall open, and …
Oh. He wants me to …
“Get in my lap.”
It works. Just.
My elbow hits the side of the house as I crawl in, my knee barely misses his crotch, and my neck is hunched over at a forty-five-degree angle while I sit facing him in his lap, but we make it work.
I have no idea how we’re going to get out of here though.
“Is this all right?” I ask.
“You know it is.”
