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Over her shoulder I see Bhodi launch himself at Cary with the biggest bear hug from my cub I’ve ever witnessed him give any other adult.
That’s when the tears of happiness that I thought I had a handle on renew, streaming down my face while Cary’s mom and I spy on their private moment from behind the threshold.
With the patience of a saint, Cary answers Bhodi’s barrage of questions the way a parent would until Bhodi asks him “when” and my fiancé doesn’t have a straight answer for my son.
“Girls like Valentine’s Day.” Bhodi supplies. “Sylvie Rhys got a hearts sticker book for Valentine’s last year. She put stickers everywhere, not just on the pages.”
“You need me to get you a hearts sticker book?” Cary joshes.
“No!” My son wrinkles his nose in absolute disgust. He leans back against the arm of the couch, putting as much space between them as possible. “I was only saying it because I noticed. Emory wants one. You can get that for her.”
“I will take your suggestion to heart.” Cary winks. “But I have a bigger issue than what day because I can’t get married without a best man. If there’s nobody to stand up for me then there’s no wedding.”
Bhodi panics. “Where do you find one of those guys?”
“I was thinking since you were my wingman, it could be you.”
“Me? I’m not a grown-up.”
“Doesn’t have to be an adult. A best man is someone the groom trusts. They’re someone who likes the bride and takes responsibility for getting him to the church on time.”
“Well, I like the bride.” He cups his hand, whispering, “When she’s not yelling up the stairs to use soap in the shower.” Bhodi rolls his eyes as if everyone knows to scrub up.
I stifle a giggle. He needs the reminder. Davina smirks, tugging at my side.
“They have to do other things too: Not forgetting the rings. Making sure I remember to brush my teeth,” Cary continues, slouching on the sofa.
“Why?”
“I have to kiss her, dude!”
“You kiss mom all the time. I saw you kiss her after eating a jalapeño, so I don’t think she cares if your breath smells. And, like Aunt Laurel says, ‘this is a woman who can smell a skunk a mile to the east when the breeze is blowing in from the west’.”
Cary erupts into laughter.
“Point taken. Okay, what if I’m standing up there in front of everyone and my fly is down.”
“I’M NOT ZIPPING IT!”
I snort, giving away our position to the men of the house, and we’re all howling with mirth.
“Not the point, half-pint. You gotta be there so I don’t embarrass your mom. There’s a lot to remember and it’d be your job to make sure I do everything right.”
“You already do everything right for mom. It’s why she looooves you.” My son rises on his knees and belly flops on the cushions. The top of his head lands against Cary’s thigh and Bhodi talks into the couch.
“I can’t hear you.” Cary ruffles his hair.
“I said, ‘I’ll do it’!”
“Knew I could count on you. Put ‘er there.” He holds out a firm hand.
Bhodi shakes it, his arm a limp noodle.
A tickle fight ensues with raucous laughter. Bhodi suggests we celebrate with seconds from the tray of brownies. To which Cary agrees. This man knows how to communicate with my son. When to push and when to keep it light.
The whole while, Cary’s words echo through my mind. I knew I could count on him too.
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