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"Lina!" he exclaimed, his face lighting up as he wiggled in excitement. He scrambled towards me, and we embraced each other in a warm hug, giggling like children.
Suddenly, the familiar, soothing voice of Uncle Joe echoed. "Missed each other already? You only left the office two hours ago," he teased as he approached us.
"Daddy, we've discussed this. In Little years, that's like a week!" His words triggered a round of laughter, diffusing the last remnants of my nervousness.
With a hearty chuckle, Joe bent down and hoisted Mike up into his arms, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. I crawled after them, my eyes alight with excitement as we entered the lavish living room. My breath hitched at the sight of the pile of toys waiting to be discovered.
But then, my eyes landed on him. Hank. He sat quietly on the large plush couch, his eyes as wide and surprised as mine. Hank was here! A surge of dread filled my stomach. This was not part of the plan. The encounter I'd been evading the entire day in the office was unfolding right before my eyes.
It was evident that he, too, was caught off guard. We locked eyes, and I could see the same mix of confusion and annoyance mirrored in his gaze. His face, so close yet feeling miles away, was a cruel reminder of our fervent kiss in the elevator. And then, his words, his harsh dismissal of our heated encounter as a mistake.
Suddenly, Hank's deep voice sliced through my turmoil. "Joe, what's she doing here?" he asked, surprise and annoyance blending in his tone.
A lump formed in my throat as I turned to Mike, feeling betrayed. "You said I was the only guest tonight!" I accused, my voice shaking.
With a mischievous grin on his face, Mike sucked on his binky, momentarily pulling it from his mouth. "Well, I knew you wouldn't come if you knew Uncle Hank was here. And besides, I can't be bothered to dress up and be on my best behavior for two separate dinners. It’s just an unreal expectation."
His response, while characteristic of Mike's carefree attitude, did little to ease my nerves. An overwhelming urge to escape washed over me. To be anywhere but here, under Hank's surprised gaze.
"Nope. I'm out of here." The words were out of my mouth before I could even think them through. I turned to crawl towards the door, ready to escape the awkward situation.
But Hank beat me to it. "No, stay," he said, standing up from the couch. His voice was strained, laced with an emotion I couldn't decipher. "I'll leave if my presence makes you uncomfortable."
Uncle Joe, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents in the room, turned to Hank, confusion etched on his face. "What's going on here? Did you guys have a fight at the brainstorming session last night?" He asked, an earnest curiosity in his voice.
From the safety of his Daddy's arms, Mike let out a giggle. "Oh Daddy, you need to catch up," he cooed, patting his cheek gently. "Their fight is already yesterday's news!"
Hank's tall figure strode toward the door, but he was intercepted by a sudden flurry of motion. Mike, the very epitome of drama and humor, pointed in the direction, prompting Uncle Joe to hurl himself into Hank's path.
"Well, if anyone's going to leave," Mike declared, puffing out his chest in a pretense of authority, "it should be Daddy and me!" His voice echoed dramatically around the room.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Mike, you guys live here. This is your house!" I reminded him.
He paused, staring blankly at me for a moment before his features morphed into surprise. "Oh? Well then, let me come up with an equally brilliant solution."
His eyes gazed up thoughtfully, seemingly lost in deep contemplation. He even adopted an exaggerated pose, chin cupped in his hand as he theatrically muttered to himself, "Pretend to think, Mike, pretend to think!"
After a moment of this spectacle, Mike finally relaxed, letting out a heavy sigh. "I can't do it. Thinking is too hard. After all, I'm a Little!" His face fell into an exaggerated pout, and I could almost see the weight of his pretend dilemma pressing down on his small shoulders.
He loosened his grip on Joe, allowing him to be lowered gently to the ground. Once his hands and knees met the plush carpet, he scuttled over to me, nestling in at my side.
"Do stay, Lina," he pleaded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Uncle Hank has been cooking up quite the culinary delights in the kitchen! You have to taste it to believe it."
Uncle Joe, ever the voice of reason amid Mike's theatrics, clarified, "By that, he means Hank managed to burn toast just before you arrived. And Mike, for some strange reason, has developed a strange curiosity in tasting it."
Mike was quick to retort, looking up at Joe with a picture of innocence on his face. "What? It's a valid culinary curiosity, Daddy. After all, even burnt toast has its own unique flavor."
I chuckled, shaking my head in amusement.
"Please, Your Majesty," Mike began as he turned back to me, a hint of playfulness touching his features as he regarded me with an exaggerated bow. "Just as the late Queen of England - may she rest in peace and may God save the Queen," he added dramatically, "your esteemed presence is sorely needed here."
Joe snorted at this, a light chuckle escaping him. "You know, he told Hank the same thing just a moment ago."
Mike shot him a glare, "I can appreciate multiple monarchs, Daddy."
I couldn't help but smile at his antics, their light-hearted banter beginning to ease my discomfort. Mike turned back to me, his demeanor shifting to something more sincere.
"You're one of the bravest people I know, Lina. Every day, you battle that big, scary computer in the office, typing away relentlessly." He was speaking earnestly now, his words imbued with a warmth that was comforting, his gaze soft. "And you do it, even knowing that what you're typing could end up making absolutely no sense. That's resilience. I’ve always looked up to you and your bravery. Please be brave in this situation too. Pretty please?"
