Jourdan’s eyes go to my hand, my breasts, and then back to my face. “Hungry?” she asks.

I shake my head, but my stomach rumbles loudly, and we both laugh. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s see what you love about La Bella Rosa.”

I nod and start to follow her. “Oh, wait. Here.” I reach into the hamper at my feet. Darren always leaves a bunch of clothes down here. He can remember to wash them and to switch them to the dryer, but after that, it’s a mystery. And I love him, but I’m not interested in performing this particular act of service. Besides, he seems to appreciate always having a clean shirt on the first floor of our house.

“You never know,” he usually says. I will never tell him that he was right.

I pull a couple of his tops out and hand one to Jourdan. We watch each other as we pull on matching Cavs jerseys, and then she reaches for my hand and leads me into the kitchen.

Jourdan leaves after we eat, and I consider moping for a while or maybe just crawling into bed with one of my toys, but when I look at the microwave clock, I realize that I only have half an hour before Darren gets home with the kids.

I fling open every window in the living room and throw a roast Darren left marinating into a pan with some vegetables, cover with foil, and shove the whole thing into the oven on three-fifty. I dart upstairs to shower and throw on some sweats and an old TLC t-shirt. I jog down the stairs at the exact moment the boys fling the front door open.

“Aht-aht,” I call to Danny, who freezes, his hand raised in mid-throw. “Don’t you throw that bag just anywhere. Line your shoes up and take your bags to the laundry room. Me and your daddy aren’t your maids.” He sighs, and both boys silently do as I say.

I give them kisses on their foreheads as they walk past me into the kitchen to make it to the laundry room.

“Can we play Alien Empire?” Nate asks while he endures my kiss. I see Danny peek over his shoulder.

“Homework?” I ask.

“We did it all in free period before practice,” Danny says excitedly.

“It’s in our folders,” Nate adds. “You can check.” He stands next to his twin, their hands tight around the handles of their gym bags.

I know when my sons are lying, and right now, they’re not, but I don’t want to give in too quickly. “You remember how to sort your laundry and start the washing machine?”

They look at each other dubiously and then shrug as if to say that between the two of them, they can figure it out.

“You two go start your laundry while your dad and I check your homework.”