“I think it would be good,” Tyson decides after a moment of consideration. “He makes you laugh. And he doesn’t yell or make us be different than we are.”
Such a simple observation, but it captures something essential. The relief of being accepted as we are, without constant criticism or demands for modification.
“I vote yes too,” Blythe adds with typical enthusiasm. “But I still want the dog. And maybe we could paint my room purple. And get one of those kitchen islands like on the home shows.”
“Kitchen islands?” Dex asks, bemused.
“She’s been watching too much HGTV with Mrs. Patterson,” I explain. “She has elaborate plans for home renovation.”
“Well,” Dex says solemnly, “kitchen islands are definitely worth considering. Along with purple bedrooms and maybe a dog. Eventually.”
The conversation drifts toward more mundane topics—dinner plans, weekend activities, whether Tyson’s hockey team has a chance at the regional championship. Normal family discussions that feel revolutionary after years of careful navigation around landmines.
Later, after the kids are in bed and we’re alone in the kitchen, the magnitude of what happened today finally hits me fully.
“I can’t believe it’s actually over,” I say, loading dishes into the dishwasher with hands that are finally steady. “All of the control and documentation and fear, and it’s just... done.”
“How does it feel?” Dex asks, drying a mug with careful attention.
“Terrifying,” I admit. “Like I’m standing at the edge of something huge and I don’t know how to move forward.”
“You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” he says gently. “Or this week, or even this month. You have time now. Time to breathe, time to heal, time to just be.”
“Time to just be,” I repeat, testing the words. “I don’t think I remember how to do that.”
“We’ll figure it out together. If you want to.”
The question hangs in the air between us, loaded with possibility and promise. I turn to face him fully, studying his expression in the soft kitchen light.
“Dex, I know we haven’t talked about this, and I don’t want to pressure you or assume anything. But what you’ve done for us—showing up in court, supporting the kids, helping me fight this battle—it’s more than I ever expected from anyone.”
“You didn’t have to ask me to do any of that,” he says. “I wanted to be there. I want to be here.”
“Even with all the complications? The custody issues and the press attention and two kids who come with a lot of emotional baggage?”
“Especially with all that.” He steps closer, reaches for my hands. “Goldie, I meant what I said in court. I love you. I love Tyson and Blythe. I want to build a life with all of you.”
“What does that look like?” I ask, because I need to know what I’m signing up for. What we’re all signing up for.
“I don’t know yet,” he admits. “We figure it out as we go. Maybe I spend more nights here. Maybe eventually we talk about me moving in officially, if that’s what feels right. Maybe we get married someday, if that’s something you want.”
Marriage. The word should terrify me after everything I went through with Evan. Instead, it sends a warm flutter through my chest.
“And if it doesn’t work out?” I ask, because I have to voice the fear. “If we try this and it’s too complicated or too hard?”
“Then we’ll handle it like adults,” he says simply. “We’ll figure out how to stay in each other’s lives because the kids matter too much to just walk away. But Goldie?” He cups my face in his hands. “I’m not planning on it not working out.”
“That’s a lot of faith to put in something so new.”
“It doesn’t feel new to me,” he says. “It feels like something I’ve been waiting for my whole life without knowing it.”
The words hit me square in the chest, echoing something I’ve been feeling but haven’t been brave enough to acknowledge. This thing between us—it does feel inevitable, like recognition rather than discovery.
“Okay,” I say finally.
“Okay?”
“I want to try. To build something real with you. To see what we can be together.” I take a shaky breath. “But maybe we take it slow? Let the kids adjust to the new custody arrangement first, give ourselves time to figure out the logistics?”
