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“You guys gotta put more into it,” I tell them.
Hazel’s shoulders rock as she giggles.
I can’t let my brother and my niece flail like this. Gotta help them. So, I do it. I do my move: I hitch my shoulders and let them bounce to a beat I can hear in my head. I crouch down low. I pop my chest. The whole bit.
Corinne, breathless with laughter, starts clapping.
Hazel joins in. She’s laughing so hard that she’s crying.
Jasmine squeals. “That’s it! That’s what he did when the camera was on him!”
The next thing I know, Jasmine snatches her mother’s phone and pulls up a song. The catchy tune pumps out of the speaker. I can’t help it that I was born to dance to this stuff!
Brett, at my side, tries to imitate me.
“Bro, loosen up,” I tell him. Man, this music is catchy.
“You have to actually move your shoulders, Dad,” Ophelia says. She’s a natural, and now she’s doing her own crazy moves.
Jasmine jumps up to join them.
Corinne leans across the table to speak to Hazel. Even though she puts her hand up to hide her lips, I hear the words. “You’d be surprised at how often meals turn into dance parties with this lot.”
Accurate.
I’m breathless when the song ends, and my legs are burning. If you dance, you have to go all in.
I flop down into a chair. I guess it’s the endorphins making me lower my guard. Now I’m sitting at the table with Hazel Thorpe and my pack.
When her laughter dies down, she steals a look at me.
My eyes snag on hers. Maybe she knows what this means to me. Hazel’s like that; she picks up on things.
She looks down to her coffee, but it’s too late. The moment we had together twisted my heart into even more of a mess.
I grab a donut, so I don’t have to think about it.
Forty-five minutes later, I polish off the last of the bite. I’ve downed two cups of coffee while listening to a conversation that was mostly about once-endangered sea turtles but also touched on the topic of math homework— “gross,” according to Lia—and jellyfish—also gross, according to Jasmine.
Brett and Corinne promised the kids a trip to the pool after breakfast. As far as I could tell, they cleared out after a whirlwind of activity mostly centered around who would apply sunscreen to whom.
“Wow,” Hazel says the minute the door closes.
“Yep. That’s what it’s like with those guys.”
“And you are the zany uncle, I see.”
“Ha. Yeah. Tough work, but someone has to do it.” I carry the empty coffee pot to the sink and run water into it until it’s full. When I turn to go back to the table, there she is.
She has a few empty mugs with her. She carries them to the sink. “You don’t seem to mind the job. Concerts, hm?”
I follow her with the last of the dishes in my hands. “Two a year, when we can make it happen.”
“Bet you were famous after your fabulous dance debut on the big screen.”
“I got a couple numbers.” That’s a massive understatement. I was pretty much tackled in the parking lot after that show. It was like every single mom in the vicinity wanted to write her number on my arm. Brett was my bodyguard, and Corinne had to drive getaway. Jasmine and Ophelia mostly laughed their heads off.
“Your brother knows I own a fax machine. Can you explain that?”
