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“Keep your voice down, honey.”
Isabella’s eyebrows jump. “Why not?!”
Andrew heaves a sigh. “I mean, look around. Our kids would be tokens.”
I scan the party and sure enough, there are mostly white kids here. Whether they notice the difference or not, Leo and Viola have gravitated toward each other. They’re not the only kids of color here, but they’re definitely in the minority.
“I guess you could see it that way, but they deserve the same opportunities white kids do,” Isabella says.
Akira nods. “I totally agree. And I mean it’s not just about representation based on race. There’s only one gay parental unit.”
I hide my smirk. Parental unit. Lots of language I’m going to have to get used to.
“It’s something to think about…” Isabella says. She runs her nails down the back of her neck, dipping her head down. Uneasy.
I place my hand at the small of her back. A gesture that feels delicate and new, yet natural. When she looks up at me, warmth blooms across my chest. We could have already had many moments like this. Domestic ones. Subtle, normal moments that feel like… everything.
I don’t want to lose Isabella again.
But that might mean losing Black Flame in the process.
“We just want what’s best for Leo,” I say. “Obviously.”
Akira smiles. “Of course.” Her eyes fall to our children sitting at the edge of the pool, eating hot dogs off of paper plates.
We all watch, a moment of silence falling over us as Viola’s head swings back with laughter and she points at Leo’s face. There’s a dot of ketchup on his nose. Leo puts his finger in the splotch of ketchup on his plate and touches her nose so they’re matching, like little clowns.
“What a mess,” Isabella says under her breath.
“Comes out in the wash,” I say, holding tight to her waist to keep her from marching over with a napkin.
Her taut muscles relax into me. “Yeah, you’re right.”
We make a good team. She’s got the hard edge and I’ve got the soft. She can keep me on track and I can help her unwind.
She deserves it after so many years of –
“Excuse me?” a man’s voice asks.
I look up at the source of the voice. He’s tall, brawny, and bearded and we’re wearing matching polo shirts.
And his eyes are squarely on me.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he says in a deep voice. “I know this is supposed to be a mixer to get to know each other and this is the last thing you want to hear –”
My body tenses. Now it’s Isabella’s turn to settle my nerves, placing her hand on my knee.
“But my wife is a huge Black Flame fan and –”
“Fan?” Andrew perks.
I run my tongue along my lower lip.
Eric points at me, a “get a load of this guy” point. “This guy is the frontman for the biggest band of the decade.”
Andrew and Akira both look at each other with wide eyes. They had no idea.
And I wish they still didn’t.
