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“I’m in.” King removes his shoes and spins into the center of the floor. The twins decide they’ll take on me and King.

“That’s a bad choice,” Mav mumbles. He’s slouched over, still hiding an arm.

“Is he drunk?” I ask King.

King shrugs, but the music cuts off what he was going to say. The twins pick hip-hop music, probably assuming since I teach ballet and tap, I won’t have moves.

Ten beats into the song, the twins realize King and I can dance and synchronize our moves in seconds after we do simultaneous aerials. Brant jumps in to spot the twins for flips, but they sulk and revert to doing the Dougie.

The twins talk smack on their way out and demand a rematch in a month.

“You’re going down, lil dudes.” O’Keefe slings his arm around King, taunting them.

Once they leave, I turn my attention to Mav. “What’s going on with you?” I saunter over and squat in front of him.

“Who knew a big, strong hockey center would be such a baby in dealing with pain?” Brant hefts Mav off the floor.

“Are you hurt?” I reach for the arm he’s been hiding.

“Nope, surprise!” Mav grins and shows me his bandaged wrist. It’s not a cast or a full wraparound.

“What am I looking at?” I ask, but Brant smacks my hand away.

“This deserves a full reveal with commentary, and I was promised kittens,” Brants says seriously.

“Dinner upstairs with our babies.” I stride toward the keypad to the door upstairs. “Take the food upstairs and make sure he doesn’t fall down the stairs.” Unlocking the door, I motion to Brant. “O’Keefe, help me carry the kitten stuff.”

“You got your shit locked tight,” Brant comments.

“It’s because I teach middle schoolers and high school heathens. Those bitches wouldn’t think twice before pilfering my makeup and clothes. And that’s just the boys,” I quip, and supervise Brant and Mav as King carries the food behind them.

“Is this a keep-your-friends-close-and-your-enemies-closer situation?” O’Keefe follows me and stands by the pantry door, waiting for instructions.

“Only from your perspective,” I say. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots that he’d hate King and me being alone. “Careful, they claw their way up your body.” I open the door, and my devil sweeties race into the room, around the island, and stop in front of O’Keefe to hiss and sniff. “Their affection is the true test.”

Raven and Amber circle him at a safe distance, taking turns getting closer for another smell. Their hackles have settled, so I gather their dinner and supplies from the pantry to take them upstairs.

O’Keefe’s rigid with his arms at his sides and a kitten dangling from each leg. “What do I do?” he asks without moving.

“You could hold them, put them on your shoulders, or pick them off you. Only one action will cause you to fail.” I smirk at his uncertainty and hold out their kitten bed, in case he wants to put them in it.

His posture relaxes, and he tries to pet them. Raven jumps on his arm and claws her way to his shoulder while Amber yowls at being left behind. O’Keefe uses one hand to steady Raven as the other one hovers over Amber. His eyes dart to mine, and I give him an up nod. He places Amber on his other shoulder, and she purrs loudly in his ear.

Any lingering reservations I had about O’Keefe vanish. My babies are excellent judges of character.

When we get upstairs, I carefully close the door behind us. “Meet Amber and Raven.” I say their names as I remove them from O’Keefe’s shoulders.

“Why aren’t we cat dads?” O’Keefe nudges King.

“Because we travel together. All. The. Time.” King pushes Mav out of the way to pet Amber, who is closer.

She leans into his hand for pets but then follows her sister under the couch.

“They’ll hide for a minute, but if we ignore them, they’ll be all up in our business,” I assure Brant, who’s craning his neck to see under the couch. “Eat fast,” I instruct as I get the kitten dinner out.

“No, my surprise.” Mav throws himself on the couch, holding his wrist with his other hand. “I endured pain for you.” He holds his arm up as proof.

“We downplayed the pain, not understanding he has the pain tolerance of a toddler,” Brant chirps, and King nods in agreement.