Thomas still couldn’t take his eyes off Holly, so I began to hatch a plan. “How about you let me make you dinner Friday night, then? As a way to express my undying thanks.”

I waited while he worked out something in his head.

“Come on. You can stay the night here, so you won’t have to worry about driving late at night.”

His eyes widened at that. “Are you sure?”

“Hol,” I called over my shoulder, “are we sure we want Thomas over for dinner Friday night?”

After launching the ball into LJ’s arms, she glanced over at us. I swore I heard an uptick in Thomas’s heart. “Seven o’clock,” she said. “Don’t be late.”

I grinned victoriously at Thomas and waited.

“It’s a date,” he said at last, before his face reddened. “I mean, it’s a dinner. A dinner date . . .” Another shade redder. “I mean Friday’s the date, and dinner’s the event.” Wincing, he turned around. “I’m going to go die now.”

“Thanks for everything!” Holly shouted as he headed into the hall. “It was nice meeting you, Thomas.”

He stuck his head back into the apartment. “It was nice meeting you, Holly.”

She shot him a smile that made the poor guy go another shade darker. Giving me a wave, Thomas hurried down the hall. He didn’t make it two doors down before he tripped over . . . his own two feet.

“You all right down there, Grace?” I called out as he caught himself before he bit it.

“I’m not exactly feeling like myself tonight,” he replied, glaring at his feet like they’d betrayed him.

“I wonder why.” I gave him a wry smile.

His shook his head. “Good night, Lucy.”

“Good night, Grace.”

He gave me a thumbs-up before making it down the rest of the hall in one piece. I’d never seen Thomas trip like that, not once in our three years of performing together.

“What did you do to that boy?” I asked as soon as I closed the door.

“Made him think twice about having kids,” Holly said, getting back to work on unpacking her suitcase.

“No, he has the Holly bug so bad—”

“Jude!” Holly shouted, rushing over to where LJ stood in front of my potted fern. His pants were around his ankles. “Please, please, please don’t tell me you just peed on Aunt Lucy’s plant.”

LJ pulled up his pants and shrugged. “It looked thirsty.”

I burst out in laughter, but was silenced almost as quickly when Holly turned her power glare on me.

Giving me a look that said, Just laugh one more time, I dare ya, she marched over to LJ. “Where are you supposed to go potty?”

“The bathroom,” LJ said, like it was obvious.

“Specifically.”

“The toilet.” He sighed.

“So why did you just pee in Aunt Lucy’s plant?”

“I told you. It was thirsty.”

Auntie intervention in order. Grabbing the watering can from the counter, I headed over to where Holly towered over LJ. “You’re right; it was thirsty. But I know for a fact my little fern is allergic to little-boy pee”—I elbowed Holly before she elbowed me right back—“so next time it’s thirsty, you can use this to give it some water.” I handed the can to LJ. “This will be your job here. To keep the plant happy and healthy. Think you can handle that?”

LJ inspected the can, turning it over a few times before nodding. “Yeah. I’ll take care of the plant, Aunt Luce,” he said, sounding as solemn as an almost four-year-old boy could. Then his eyes shifted to the TV in front of the sofa and they lit up. “Mom? Can I watch Yo Gabba Gabba?”

Holly checked the clock on the kitchen wall. “Go for it.”

After carefully placing the watering can beside the plant, LJ skipped over to the TV and grabbed the remote.

“Does he need help with that?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? He’s known what time and what channel Yo Gabba Gabba! is on since he was two,” she said, looking from the plant to me. “Sorry about that. Like I said, a little caveman.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, “and if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the first time it was peed on. I’m almost certain Jude had that honor after we burned through a couple bottles of champagne New Year’s Eve and the bathroom was just too far to go when he had to go.”

“Men,” Holly said, curling her nose at the plant. “They look for any excuse they can to whip that thing out. Age isn’t a factor. Obviously.” Her eyes landed on LJ, who was enraptured by a show that looked like it was conceived during an acid trip.

“Come on. Let’s get your stuff moved into the bedroom so you guys can get some sleep,” I said, grabbing another suitcase of theirs. “I’m sure you’re beat.”

“Like a punching bag,” she said, grabbing another suitcase and following me. “Aunt Lucy and I are going to finish unpacking. Let me know if you need anything, LJ.”

“Are the brownies done yet?” LJ asked, his eyes glued to the TV.

Holly glanced at the timer on the microwave. “Another twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding like twenty minutes was an eternity. “I love you, Mom.”

All the stress lines on Holly’s face ironed out. “I love you, Jude.”