Page 94 of Dissonance

“Missed you too.”

Ziggy lets out a loud, delighted shriek at the sound of a new voice, turning in his seat, more food smeared across his cheeks than what could possibly have come from the bowl in front of him.

“He’s gotten bigger,” I say, running a knuckle over the back of one miraculously clean hand.

“Yeah, they do that,” Cooper says, voice lowering, the brightness going out of it, like he wishes time would slow down. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

I stare at the kid, at the chubby rosy cheeks and his wee feet kicking under the tray.

“Aye. Guess I will.”

Ziggy slaps the plastic again, sending something flying onto the floor, babbling an “Uh oh.”

“How’s Thea?” Cooper asks, heading to the sink and soaking a cloth.

“She’s good,” I say as I watch him attempt to clean up, giving up when Ziggy snatches it from him immediately and throws it to the floor.

“Declan,” he yells toward the hallway. “Your son’s messy and needs a diaper change.”

“Why can’t you do it?” comes the answer.

“Because it’s your turn.”

Declan appears a moment later, giving his husband a pointed look before turning to his son and groaning.

“What has your daddy been feeding you?” He scoops him up, dodging a sticky hand, and nods at me. “Catch up soon, yeah? Once I’ve got this terror cleaned up.”

He disappears, and a high-pitched giggle fades with him.

“Coffee?” Cooper asks, turning toward the high-tech machine in the center of the kitchen.

I nod, leaning against the counter, crossing my ankles. “So. Gunner.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he hides his smirk. “Yeah? What about him?”

The machine whirls as he heads to the fridge, grabbing the creamer, the rich scent of coffee flooding the kitchen. Two mugs in hand, he tilts his chin toward the dining table. I follow, pulling out a chair, hand curling around the hot ceramic as he tosses a stuffed teddy onto the island. There’s a half-empty bottle pushed to one side, something mashed into the woodgrain that didn’t quite get wiped clean. A stack of burp cloths folded off to the other side, another small toy abandoned on the floor near the leg. None of it matches the sleek, controlled space Cooper used to operate in. This is messier, lived-in, real.

My gaze drifts toward the kitchen doorway, to the sound of Ziggy’s laughter somewhere deeper in the house. This is his life now. Not the late nights or the constant travel. Sure, there’re times when that’s still needed, but not every hour of every day.

Cooper drops down opposite me, his blond curls disheveled, something dried in them he hasn’t noticed.

“You look different,” he says, eyes sweeping over my face.

“So do you.” I nod toward his hair.

His hand goes up, finding whatever it is and pulling it free with a grimace, wiping his hand on his jeans. “Just you wait until you’ve got all of this in your beard.”

My fingers tighten around the mug. That is going to be me. Soon.

“How much longer has she got left?”

“A little over two months.”

“Shit.” A low whistle leaves him. “That’s…yeah. That’s real.”

“Aye.”

Cooper exhales, glancing toward the hallway, checking Declan’s still gone. Then he looks back at me with an expression I don’t see very often on him.