Page 93 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

“Not exactly. Some of his sketches in that book are . . . sad? Like he’s struggling with knowing who he is.” A boy standing separate. A boy escaping Earth. A boy divided into pieces. “Our first book club novel was Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda—a book he chose about teenage drama and a boy coming out—and I asked him how he thought Simon might have felt when he was younger, before that book, when he was figuring out he was gay.”

“What did he say?” Her whispered words are so timid, so full of emotion and worry.

I exhale through the tightness in my chest. “That he thought Simon might have been afraid people wouldn’t like him. That his mom maybe wouldn’t like him.”

Sadie gasps and covers her mouth.

I cup her cheeks and kiss her forehead. “It’s okay, honey. They’re normal fears.”

“Did I do something to make him think that? Say something without thinking?” She grips my wrists, tears filling her eyes. “I’d never love him less. He’s perfect no matter who he loves.”

“I know, and I think deep down he knows you’d support him. There’s just so much on social media these days. There’s no telling what he’s seen or read.”

Her fingers dig harder into my wrists. “What did you say to him?”

My absolute, undying truth. “I told him if I was Simon’s dad, I’d be sad if I knew he was upset or scared when he was younger. That I’d wish I could go back in time and tell him he’s loved unconditionally.”

Her tears fall unchecked as her lips tremble. “How are you so amazing?”

“I’m not amazing, Sprite. I said some careless things to him before that. Off-the-cuff hetero comments that were stupid. And I might be wrong on this. He’s still young. Reading a book about a gay teen and drawing sad pictures isn’t evidence of anything. I just think it’s an important conversation for us to have. Together. So if he does come to us one day with big news, we aren’t shocked. We’re a solid support he knows he can lean on.”

She kisses me, hard and needy, her salty tears mingling with our tongues. “I love you. God, I love you so much.”

I freeze for a beat, overwhelmed, then kiss her with all I have, sinking into the words I’ve been waiting to hear, letting them wash over me with their sweetness.

“Love you so fucking much,” I whisper back, hugging her while we cling to each other and kind of laugh and kind of cry, eventually talking about what a great kid we have. How proud we are of his talent and kindness. How relieved we are he likes his counselor, Samantha, and has someone outside of family to confide in.

“I should’ve told you about his sketches right away,” I say into this intimate space we’ve created. A safe bubble of whispered words. “Should’ve let you know he was struggling with something. I was scared, I think. Worried I’d lose his trust. I was thinking about myself, how much that would hurt, instead of about what was best for him.”

“Oh, Des.” Her sigh is full of gentleness. “You became an instant dad to a ten-year-old. If he has drawings that concern you, I need to know, but you’re learning. You told me now. We’re all learning how to be a family together.”

That How to Parent for Dummies book needs a chapter for men shoved into WITSEC unaware that they were dads.

“I promise to do better,” I say against her forehead. “No matter what Max’s future holds, we’ll make sure he’s happy. We’ll make sure he knows he’s loved.”

“He’s so lucky to have you as a dad.”

“And you as his mother, but I’m the lucky one.” Everything in my life finally falling into place.

A door slams, and we stiffen, still naked under the sheets.

“Let’s get you some water,” E says loudly, stomping into the house earlier than expected.

Like an hour earlier.

At least they didn’t walk in half an hour ago and get an earful of Your sweet little pussy was made for me.

I rub my hand down my face. “Guess that’s our cue.”

I roll away to get up, but Sadie places her hand on my waist. “Move in with us.”

I whip around and search her face. “You want me to move in?”

She traces the contours of my lips, the edges of my stubbled jaw. “I’m tired of not kissing you when I want to kiss you. I hate not sleeping with you at night. I want you here when Max is being a pain in the ass and when he’s being funny and sweet. I want him to have his father, because he needs you. I need you. I want us to be a family.”

“You’re sure?” When she nods, I don’t test my luck and ask again. I kiss her hard and smile against her lips—seriously, this resting-grinning face is taking over—breathing more freely than I have in an eternity. “We’ll tell Max when E’s gone.”

Her eyes shine. “He’ll be so excited.”