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She didn’t think he realized that in trying not to suck, he was working to overcome all that damage. He was just trying not to suck. There was something surprisingly …innocentin that.
And it moved Marcella deeply.
They were going to work.
Holy shit. She and Eight were going to work. She and Eight and Ajax. A family.
~oOo~
Eight gave Marcella a look over the extra-large supreme pizza sitting on a rack in the middle of the table, and she knew he wanted her to start the Big Talk.
“Hey, Ajax. You dad and I, we want to talk to you about something.”
His mouth puffed like a chipmunk, Ajax stopped chewing and mumbled “You do?” through a wad of toppings, sauce, and crust.
“Yeah.” She’d thought about this a lot but hadn’t decided what approach would be best. So, here at zero hour, she decided to go with the straightforward strategy. “Since Eight’s been around, we’ve been talking a lot. And we figured out that we really like each other.”
Ajax swallowed hard and took a long drink of his Sprite. “You do?” He turned to Eight. “You like Mom?”
“Yeah, bud. I like your mom a lot.” His eyes flashed to her, and she thought he was going to say something more, but he didn’t.
Ajax turned to her. “I don’t get it.”
She stalled with a drink of Diet Coke. Shit, if they were wrong and this didn’t work? What then?
Well, then he’d be a kid with two parents living separate lives. Like Marcella had been. And that had been fine.
It was the first time she’d answered the ‘what then’ question for herself with something clear and reasonable, and she understood that she trusted Eight to stick. Even if they fell apart, he wouldn’t abandon Ajax.
He was truly ready to be a father.
“Your dad and I are together now, Ajax. As a couple. Do you understand?”
Their son looked to his father, then back at his mother. “Do you mean … like Aunt Vonny and Uncle Chase? You love each other?”
“It’s a bit too early—” she started.
But at the same time, Eight said, “Yes.”
And knocked Marcella back in her seat. She looked at Eight.
He was looking at her. His complexion was a bit pale, his eyes a bit wide, but his expression was steady. “Yes,” he said again, and shifted to Ajax. “I love your mom. And I love you.”
Ajax turned to her, the obvious question beaming from his beautiful blue eyes.
“Yes,” she answered, and shifted to Eight. With her eyes on his, Marcella said a truth she’d just seen clearly. “I love your dad.”
The grin on Eight’s face was almost as bright as the one on their kid’s.
And Marcella saw that their smiles were identical.
~oOo~
“Yvonne, if that crust burns, I’m gonna make you eat in the basement,” their mother threatened.
Yvonne turned from the doorway to the living room and came back to the kitchen. “I’m just shocked, is all.”
She slipped two oven mitts on and opened the door of the mini convection oven they’d bought Mom for Christmas last year. The crust was a slight bit more than golden at the crimped edges, but it looked good—and smelled amazing.
