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Logan and I put the food on the outdoor table as I laugh. “Dad, you realize it’s October, right? Where’d you even get watermelon?”
Dad just shrugs. “It’s never too late in the season for an outdoor barbeque. And no barbeque is complete without watermelon.” Which isn’t even remotely an answer to my question, but whatever.
“I think it’s awesome, Mr. C,” Logan says as he piles his plate with potato salad. Until Logan met me, food wasn’t always easy for him to come by as a kid. It’s how we became friends, actually. I caught him trying to steal my lunch, but instead of telling on him, I shared it with him. That night, I went home and told Dad about Logan. From that day on, Dad began making me two lunches, one for me and the other for Logan. He never even said anything, just handed me the extra bag and said, “In case your friend is hungry.” That was it.
Because of his childhood, Logan has a tendency to overindulge. It’s like his brain is still programmed to eat as much as he can just in case it’s a while till his next meal. Dad is always happy to indulge him. Luckily for Logan, he’s 6’4”, 250lbs., and insanely active, so he can eat as much as he wants without worrying about it.
Once we’re all settled and drinking the best fucking sangria I ever had, Logan turns the conversation back to Lake. I’m not sure why he’s so curious, but since I can’t get the damn man out of my mind, it’s not exactly a hardship to talk about him. I already told Dad about Lake wanting to meet him next week, and he’s ecstatic.
“What was this conversation he had that was so serious?”
“I’m pretty sure it's not your business. I felt guilty enough listening in.”
“He’s going to be the surrogate for his friends,” Lucy interrupts, not even remotely phased that she’s sharing personal information about a virtual stranger. “Isn’t that the sweetest? That’s going to be a good-looking baby, too. That was a gorgeous couple.”
I had to agree. While objectively attractive, the couple with Lake didn’t do anything for me. My mind keeps going back to Lake in his pseudo-professor attire, with his tight smile and those serious golden-brown eyes.
Logan’s blue eyes widen in surprise. “Shit, really? I didn’t even know dudes could do that.”
“Clearly he’s been tested for the Omega gene,” Lucy says in that tone she gets when she thinks she’s smarter than everyone else. Basically, she reserves that tone for Logan. I’ve never heard her use it on anyone else.
Logan grabs a piece of watermelon. “Yeah, no shit. Doesn’t mean he can carry someone else’s kid, though.”
Lucy sips her sangria with a smirk on her lips. “I got the impression they weren’t sure yet either. I think they’re waiting to speak to a doctor.”
“Gods, Lu. Let the man have some privacy.”
This time she does flush sheepishly. “Sorry. You’re right. I saw you got his number.”
Lucy’s eyebrows waggle seductively.
I roll my eyes, trying to ignore her implications and how happy I am to have that saved in my phone, even if I know it’s strictly for practical purposes. “Yeah, so I can give him the time and address to Dad’s.” I eye my two friends. “Neither of you will be here for that dinner,” I tell them seriously.
Logan falls back in his chair with mock hurt. “What? C’mon, Ev. You'd never even have found the guy without me. I don’t get to meet him?”
“No,” I tell him. I know Logan. He’s going to interrogate the shit out of the guy, especially since some of his personal information doesn’t add up. I don’t want that to happen. I get the feeling Lake won’t handle that well, and I don’t want him to run now that I finally found him.
Dad speaks up, and thankfully he agrees with me. “I think the first time should just be Ev and me. It’s probably going to be an emotional night, and I don’t wanna overwhelm him or make him uncomfortable.” Dad smiles fondly at Logan as he sighs dramatically, but he agrees.
“I’ll drop off leftovers to your apartment on Monday,” Dad promises Logan.
Logan beams at this. “Thanks, Mr. C, you’re the best.”
I see the smile on my dad’s face as he settles back in his deck chair. I know he thinks of Logan as another son, and even if he insists on calling Dad Mr. C, I know he’s the closest thing Logan has ever had to a real father.
As the night continues, I can’t help but count my blessings. Sure, it would’ve been nice if Dad was in my life the entire time. I’d have loved my mom not to be a crack addict alcoholic. But even with that, I got lucky. It may have taken longer than I’d like, and a small part of me wished Dad managed to turn his life around just because of me and didn't need another kid almost getting sold to be a wake-up call, but I’d take it. He did turn his life around before it was too late, and that’s more than most people get.
Lucy has a date that night, so she leaves shortly after we’re done eating. Logan has a rare day off, and we decide to take advantage of it. Dad always keeps the spare bedroom open, so I can crash at any time, and makes sure there are clean sheets on the pull-out couch in the living room so Logan can crash if he needs to. We decide to take advantage of that, and long after Dad goes in for the night, Logan and I sit on his back porch and drink. We have way more than we should for a Sunday night when I have to work at 8 am, but whatever.
In a lot of ways, Dad’s place will always be home, way more than my apartment. I got extremely lucky and managed to get one of those rent-controlled apartments in the city so my rent isn’t ridiculous. It’s still way too high for a tiny one-bedroom apartment, but definitely manageable. Still, it’s never felt much like home to me, and my room at my dad’s house will always feel more like mine than the other one.
It’s a little after 1 am when Logan and I finally crash. He stumbles his way onto the pull-out that my dad already has set up for him. He doesn’t even take off his shoes. My eyes are blurry and everything’s double, but I somehow manage to make it to the couch. Logan somehow sleeps through my clumsy attempt at pulling off his boots. I consider taking off his jeans too. I know for a fact he only wears boxers or nothing to bed, but I’m pretty sure I don’t have the coordination for that.
It’s basically just instinct that gets me up the stairs to my bedroom. My dad’s door is closed, but I can still hear his snores. I snort as I push the bathroom door open to piss and brush my teeth. My dad has to be the loudest snorer and deepest sleeper in all of Brooklyn, though it was convenient in my teenage years when I snuck in my girlfriends, and even one guy, without him noticing.
“Holy fuck, I shouldn’t have drunk so much,” I mutter to myself as I piss. I practically fall onto the sink, but I manage to wash my hands and brush my teeth. I’m one of those people who has to brush my teeth every night and every morning no matter what. It doesn’t matter how drunk or tired I am. I’m brushing my teeth. It’s a fucking disgusting feeling if I don’t. I strip out of everything but my boxer briefs, leaving the clothes in a pile in the bathroom, and stumble into the room I sleep in at Dad’s, making a mental note to clean up in the morning.
I crash into the bed, also already all set up for me, and I think I’m gonna pass out immediately, but I don’t. Instead, I’m just lying here, staring at the popcorn ceiling and thinking. I can’t believe I actually met Lake. After years of him just being an arbitrary figure, one that impacted my life so much even without a face to go with the image, it’s strange finally meeting the man in real life. A good strange, though. He’s quirky, intense, a little odd, and so fucking adorable. Every time I think about him, my cock takes notice. I had a lot of fucking alcohol, so I’m not exactly hard, but I still palm my dick as the image of Lake fills my mind.
