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Blinking his eyes, he pointed his little finger at me. “Your couch?”
“Not mine.”
Paolo opened his mouth in horror and immediately began backing away. “Lev.”
“Nope. It’s not the lion’s couch either—”
“It is most definitely my couch, Paolo.” Kaz came in, holding Emilio in his arms. “Where I am, it is mine.”
Paolo parted his lips.
I looked our son over. “Finally, you dressed him.”
A knock sounded.
Then, the door opened and Max burst into the living room. “The Black Mamba is here!”
I zipped up the bag. “The what?”
“The Black Mamba.” Max held out his hands. “Dangerous African snake. Their bite is called the Kiss of Death.”
Paolo grinned. “Snake!”
“Hell yes, Polo.” Max went over to him and high-fived his hand. “You’re my fellow snake man.”
I sighed. “Are we back to calling him Polo now?”
“Yeah. I’m really digging Polo for my little dude. But anyway, let’s talk about what I’m wearing.” Max started strutting back and forth like a model on a runway, turning the moment into a fashion show. “Look at your boy.”
I placed the bag under the stroller. “You look good.”
“Good? Naw, Em. I’m gorgeous.” Max spun on his heel and his light, linen blazer fluttered dramatically.
The blazer was a soft, pastel blue, which he wore over a crisp, white V-neck tee that hinted at his physique. His trousers were tailored, a light beige that complemented the blazer and allowed his brightly colored, designer loafers to steal the show.
Completing the ensemble was a straw fedora, tipped rakishly to one side, with a band that matched his loafers.
“I mean, if you’re not dressing to make the sun jealous, then should you even be outside?” Max struck a pose—one hand on his hip and the other extended out with his fingers splayed.
Paolo clapped his hands in delight.
“Do not encourage that idiot.” Kaz placed Emilio in the stroller and strapped him up.
Max continued to entertain us with his catwalk antics, slowly strutting back and forth and flapping his blazer to the side. “Why yes, Em. I’ll answer your question.”
“I didn’t ask a question.” I gestured at Paolo. “Put the leash on Harlem, baby.”
“Yay!” Paolo charged that way while the dog jumped at him.
Max glided toward me, lifted his hat, and tipped it. “50k.”
“What’s $50,000?”
“My outfit.” He touched his chin and gave me his swoony look. “Something light for the day.”
I chuckled.
“I will be downstairs.” Kaz glanced at Max and pushed Emilio toward the door. “Fucking idiot.”
