“Did your feet grow roots?” Camden grunted and stared down at my feet.

My mouth twitched with humor.

He had to know he wasn’t acting…normal.

If he didn’t know, King seemed to. He was frowning at the boy. “Camden.”

The two locked eyes, and King’s look was pointed—a silent reminder of something that made Camden release my arm and avert his gaze to the floor.

“I apologize, Anthony,” King said. “We don’t entertain often. And Camden was clearly raised by a pack of wolves.”

“Was not,” Camden whispered. Next, he excused himself to go to the bathroom, and he disappeared out of the other kitchen entrance.

Dejection was written all over his posture, and it tugged at something in me.

King followed after sending me another look of apology, and I had a feeling he was beginning to regret having a bunch of people over for a barbecue. Because there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell they had a regular relationship dynamic. They reminded me too much of my friends, although Moshe handled the transition between family life and playtime much easier. But it was still there, like an undercurrent, obvious to those who knew.

The psychology major in me had always been fascinated, and I didn’t think twice about taking a few steps closer to the doorway to see if I could overhear anything. Douchebag move of me, but whatever.

It took a beat before I heard anything, long enough for me to suspect they’d locked themselves in somewhere.

“…just wanted to meet him.”

“I know, darlin’, but you need more recovery time to come out of your regression.” That was King, in a low, reasoning tone. And he confirmed my guesses. “This isn’t what you want to hear, but I think you should rest today.”

“But, Daddy…”

Cazzo, that soft whine coming from Camden was something else.

“Hey.” King lowered his voice further. “This is on me. I should’ve told Clara today was off-limits. I knew you weren’t ready.”

“I am—I will be—”

“No. You will take today off. You know our rule, love. We don’t push our lifestyle onto others, do we?”

I’d heard all I needed to hear, and I felt the most forceful urge to assure them that I didn’t mind. Because I didn’t. I returned to the kitchen island and decided to wait for one or both of them to get back, and then I’d say something.