Pi freezes in the kitchen space, a bottle of beer in each hand.
I’m on my feet already. “No, Logan, that’s enough. I told you to leave it and you’ve ignored me. You can’t go around saying things like that to grown-ups. Apologise to Aiden, please.”
“I’m sorry?” It’s a question. He doesn’t understand what he’s done wrong, and I can’t blame him, but I can’t explain it right now in front of Pi.
I turn to my friend. “Pi, mate, I’m really sorry. He doesn’t—”
“It’s alright,” Pi says cheerfully, but the furrow in his brow betrays his chipper tone. “If it’s okay with you, Logan, I’ll veto that last dare.”
My heart sinks.
Lower than low. Lower than the floor of the caravan. Lower than the asphalt it’s sitting on even. I would never have expected him to go through with the dare, but I also wouldn’t have expected it to hurt this much either.
But I mean, of course he’d veto it. Like I told my kid, we’re just very close friends. Friends who bump uglies, but friends nonetheless.
“But . . .” Pi says. He looks right at me, and the breath vanishes from my lungs. “I’m only vetoing it because I don’t want the first time I tell your dad I love him to be done under duress.”
Holy shit.
Wait.
Holy fucking shit.
“What does duress mean?” Logan asks.
Pi steps in front of me and takes my hand in his. “So I’m saying this of my own free will, okay? I . . . love you, Eggo. A lot, actually. A whole freaking lot.”
“Okay. Thank you. I love you too.” I’m laughing. “I love you. Wow, I was not imagining this would happen today. Or ever, to be honest. But definitely not today.”
“I dare you to kiss!” Logan screams.
And even though neither of us has any dares left, we still kiss. We keep it family friendly. No tongues or groping.
“What does duress mean?” Logan asks again. “So, are you boyfriends now?”
“Uh . . . I think that maybe Uncle Aiden and I need to have that conversation privately, okay?” I say, and Pi nods in agreement. I take a beer from him. He still has a slightly melted but enduringly sparkling Groot on his cheek. I smile at him, then turn to my kid. “Right, my move is it?” I pull the pouffe closer to the sofa so Pi and I can sit side by side.
He places his hand on my thigh just above my knee and squeezes three times in quick succession.
“Are you okay?”
Or it could even be,“I love you.”
I squeeze him back three times. I mean it like,“I love you.”
“Dad, are you crying?”
Jesus, does nothing escape this kid’s notice? “Lol, no. I’m just happy because I reached the other side, so you need to put a crown on my piece.”
Later, I tuck Logan into bed. He rubs his hand over his tired Spider-Man face—probably should have washed it off before letting him get between the sheets, but we put a towel over the pillow to stave off the worst of the potential staining.
“Goodnight, son. Sleep well.” I kiss his forehead.
“What does duress mean?” he says with a yawn.
I sigh. “It’s like when someone forces you to do something through coercion.”
“What does coercion mean?”
