“Do you think Moon Ridge Elementary is ready for T.J. announcing to his classmates he has multiple dads now?” Weston asks.
Elena sighs. “The school’s in such disarray, I don’t think extra dads will even be headline news.”
“Good point.” I squeeze her shoulder.
The structural team finally finished enough assessment work for the district to start making a plan. It’ll be atleast another ten days before part of the building can reopen, assuming the air-quality results come back clean. Until then, Elena and the superintendent are piecing together classroom space anywhere Moon Ridge can spare it.
It won’t be normal for a while, but Elena’s determined to make it work.
The gym is another story, of course. It won’t be usable again this school year, maybe longer, depending on materials sourcing.
I can feel the weight of all of it still sitting on her, even here at home, and my hand slides from her shoulder to the back of her neck. It’s not long before our conversation winds down, and we find ourselves doing more touching and less talking. Before we get carried away, we move into the bedroom and lock the door behind us.
What follows is quiet and tender, but no less intense for it. We swallow our moans and muffle the sounds of pleasure in each other’s flesh. The desperation of earlier encounters has given way to something slower and deeper, and every touch hits harder, because there’s so much more between us now.
We all fall asleep in Elena’s bed, but it’s a tight fit. At some point in the night, I wake up and find Weston gone, presumably to sleep on the couch, and just before I drop off again, I make a mental note to plan for future housing.
In the morning, while I’m pouring coffee and Weston’s making eggs, T.J. appears, dressed and ready for the day. Apparently, he spent the night making plans, too, because the first thing he does is make anannouncement.
“I decided I’m gonna call you all Dad.”
Weston pauses with the spatula in hand, and Calder, who’s standing at the counter loading bread into the toaster, goes still.
Elena just lifts her brows. “You did?”
T.J. nods. “Yep.”
I set the coffee pot down carefully. “All of us.”
“Uh-huh.”
Weston nudges the eggs in the pan, then looks back at T.J. “How exactly is that going to work?”
The boy shrugs, unconcerned. “I’ll just say Dad, and you’ll figure out which one I mean.”
A laugh breaks out of me before I can stop it. Weston shakes his head, smiling, and even Calder’s mouth twitches.
“That seems inefficient,” I tell T.J.
“It’ll be fine.” T.J. pulls out his chair, then snags a piece of bacon from the plate on the table before he sits.
Elena hides her smile behind her coffee mug as she looks over at the three of us in the kitchen.
All of it leaves a strange, fierce warmth in my chest.
T.J. settles in the chair, reaching for the glass of milk Elena had poured for him. “Also, if you’re all my dads now, can we have more kids, so I can be a big brother?”
It’s the domestic equivalent of launching a grenade into the kitchen.
My brain blanks. Weston goes still, and Calder visibly startles when toast pops up.
Elena stares at her son for one long beat, then, to my amazement, she starts laughing. She’s not shocked or flustered. She’s amused.
“What?” T.J. frowns and wipes milk from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Elena reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. “That’s an adults-only conversation, Bug. We’ll talk about it and let you know.”
The boy accepts that instantly, more interested in another piece of bacon.
