“Dude,” Dulac whispered.

“Ok, folks,” Somers said, gesturing with a can of Pepsi, “nothing to see here. Move along.”

“Maybe you guys should waltz,” Noah said.

“That,” Rebeca said, “is the whitest thing ever.”

“What’s wrong with a waltz? It’s easy, and like Emery said, you can just count the steps.”

“He could manage a waltz,” Dulac said, frowning over his beer. “Probably.”

“Emery, you should just grind up on him,” Nico said, “you know, like when we’d go to the Pretty Pretty—” Mitchell clapped a hand over Nico’s mouth and both of the younger men giggled as it turned into wrestling.

“Move along,” Somers said, gesturing with the can again. The gathering in the kitchen broke up, with people drifting into Noah and Rebeca’s living room.

“It’s only in comparison,” Rebeca said as she passed Hazard, flicking a gaze at him and then at Somers’s backside. “You just can’t live up to Emery’s . . . statuesque build.”

“A little less commentary, please,” Somers said.

Hazard held himself rigidly on the stool, his thumb flicking up and down the bottle of Guinness.

“They’re teasing you,” Somers whispered in his ear.

“I know.” Flick. Flick.

“Because they love you.”

Hazard’s thumb stopped on the side of the beer. He rolled his eyes.

“And I love you too,” Somers said, kissing his neck. “Although I’m going to make you take back that comment about my flat ass.”

And then Somers pinched Hazard’s butt and headed for the refrigerator. Hazard’s gut tightened the way it still did, even after a few dry months, but Somers just grabbed another Pepsi. When he turned around, something must have been on Hazard’s face because Somers blushed lightly, and then he shrugged and displayed the can like a The Price is Right showgirl. Then he laughed, and the moment broke, and he moved into the living room.

Hazard finished his beer and left the empty in the sink; then he moved to the living room and took up a spot along the wall. Mitchell and Nico were doing some more giggling together on the sofa, heads close together, Nico’s hand casually on Mitchell’s leg. Wesley was standing by the door, talking to Susan; her head was down, shaking in a negative, while Wesley said something low and hurried. Dulac had cornered Darnell, a big man in overalls and a Carhartt tee, and was peppering the bigger man’s face with kisses. Darnell was fire-engine red and grinning. Somers stood in a loose triangle with Noah and Rebeca, all three of them laughing. And then another passel of kids stampeded through the living room, and Hazard smiled in spite of himself; his daughter, Evie, three years old, was hot on the tail of Robbie, almost eleven, who was shrieking and pretending to let her catch up.

“Dee,” Evie screamed as she ran past. “Robbie spank me!”

“Bet you can’t spank me,” Robbie shouted, and then the chase moved on, with Evie squealing with delight as her chubby little legs carried her after her intended victim.