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“Yeah, I was.”
“Then why did you stop?”
“Because I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it. It’s been a crazy few days. I didn’t want to make assumptions about giving us a label.”
“Even when it’s such a lovely label?” I said, and he smiled.
“It is, isn’t it? I think we wear it well.”
“I hope so.”
He kissed me then, and after a while, without either of us saying a word, we went to bed.
We made love slowly, as befitted our exhaustion, and fell asleep in each other’s arms, waking this morning to a bright sunny sky.
“Your refrigerator is incredibly well stocked,” I say, rummaging through it, while Tanner clears the breakfast things.
“It probably helps that you brought over the contents of yours.”
“Yeah. I guess.” I grab some ham, cheese, pickles, tomatoes, and cucumber, and dump them on the countertop, alongside the bread. “If you can make the sandwiches, I can throw together a potato salad, if you like?”
“Did someone mention potato salad?” Nash pokes his head out of his bedroom door, and I turn to Tanner.
“How did he hear that?” I whisper.
“You said potato salad. He’s trained to hear those two words from about a hundred yards.”
I chuckle and turn back to Nash. “Yes, I did. Can I assume you’d like some?”
“Yes, please.” He comes bounding over. “What are you putting in our sandwiches, Dad?”
“I’m guessing you want ham and cheese? Just for a change?”
Nash nods his head and turns to me. “Do you like ham and cheese?” he asks.
“I do, although I like tomato with it.”
He pulls a face, which makes me laugh, and I set about making potato salad… for three.
“He’s soaked,” I say, smiling up at Tanner as we both watch Nash splashing in the creek. We’ve found a shady spot to sit, and Nash has been in the water almost since we arrived. I’m sitting on the rug between Tanner’s parted legs, leaning back against him, and he leans forward and kisses the top of my head.
“It’s fine. We’ll have time to get him dried and changed before he goes back to Sabrina’s.”
“How are you gonna handle that?” I ask, twisting around so I can look at him properly.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to see what she says. If she says anything at all.”
“I love to come with you, so I could give you some moral support, but I don’t think my presence would help.”
He shakes his head, gazing at Nash. “No, babe. I don’t think it would.”
“Is it time to eat yet?” Nash asks, kicking up water, but looking directly at us.
“It can be if you want,” Tanner replies.
“Great. I’m starving.”
“I doubt that.” Tanner chuckles, and I kneel up, getting out our picnic, while Nash comes and sits down, his father wrapping him in a towel he brought with us.
