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“No, I get that. But it’s natural for her to figure out how to love her friends and us and dance and all the things she wants in her life. Just like it’s normal for adults to figure out how new loves fit with the old ones. So, I figure it’s probably similar with Carl? He can love you and make room for this new guy? Assuming you guys are still, like—” I search for the word. Then I recall the web comic Meg and her bestie have been gushing over lately, and how they describe the main relationship. “—like, queer platonic partners.”
Saint side-eyes me. “We aren’t together.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes.
“Label it what you want, but you two love each other. It’s clear as day, even if it doesn’t look the way society says a relationship should look. Just like our friendship—” I resist the urge to call it a relationship, using a term that’s less likely to make Saint run for the hills “—doesn’t fit into a tidy box.”
“I suppose.” Saint pulls up in front of the community center and puts the car in park.
“Just because things change doesn’t mean they have to end.” I lean over and kiss his cheek. “Thanks for the ride.”
I don’t expect him to offer a ride home from here. He’s made a point of not interacting with my kids much. And I’ve been grateful for the separation. I’m not about to let another man break their hearts by walking out on them when my inability to maintain a relationship rears its ugly head.
Somehow, I can’t see Saint being the sort of step-parental figure who would throw my kids away along with any relationship between us ending, though. He can still snuggle with his ex-husband, after all. Still, I’m not about to push him for more than he’s comfortable offering.
“Want me to wait so I can bring you two home?” Saint’s fingers brush my elbow, not quite grabbing me, but getting my attention nonetheless.
“Yeah. If it’s not too much trouble?”
“Not at all. You shouldn’t have to walk in this weather.”
“Thanks, Saint. Let me just go get Owen?” I try to ignore the warm glow of hope his offer ignites in my chest. He’s just being a caring friend. But it feels momentous that he opened up to me. And even more, that he’s willing to acknowledge our friendship in front of Owen.
“Sure. I’ll be here.” He smiles at me as I ease the car door shut, afraid to damage the sleek paint of the fancy exterior, even though that’s probably ridiculous. Nice as it is, it’s still just a car.
Saint’s car isn’t the only one idling in front of the building, but it’s one of the nicest. I make my way inside to the milling throng of waiting parents. It’s thinner after the competition team’s practice than at the end of the general training sessions, less daunting. I chat with a few other parents as we watch the kids finish up and sort out their gear to bring home.
The kids emerge from the gym in a wave. Owen hugs me and I savor the moment of connection.
“Hey, Mike asked if I can come to his Christmas party, can I?” Owen asks, fixing me with his best begging eyes. Ah, so that explains the unprompted affection.
“It’s awful short notice, bud. When is it?” I want to say yes, but I can’t give away Trevor’s weekend with the kids.
“Tomorrow at his house. I can go home with him and you can pick me up after. Or I can walk. It’s only until nine. And it’s not even a school night. Please?”
I purse my lips. I was hoping for some family time before the kids go to Trevor’s place for the weekend. He normally gets them Friday evening on his weekends, but since he’s taking Monday too, he offered to pick them up Saturday instead. Still, Meg already announced her intention to spend the afternoon with her bestie working on their dance routines. Owen deserves to have a good time too.
“Sure. Tell him it’s fine.”
“Yes! Thanks, Pop. You’re the best!” Owen pumps his fist in the air and turns to find his friend in the chaos. I can probably finagle a last-minute shift at the diner while he’s occupied. There were dozens of swap requests posted by the schedule last I checked. At least if I’m working, I won’t be sitting around missing the kids.
I catch Mike’s mom’s eye as the boys excitedly discuss their plans. I heft Owen’s bag and make my way toward them.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I ask Helen.
“Wonderful. Stressed about the party tomorrow, but you know how these things are.” She laughs, a tinkling, sweet sound to mask the stress.
“Sure,” I force a laugh. I don’t have much experience throwing fancy holiday parties, but I’ve pulled my hair out over putting together birthday parties for the kids, so that’s probably close enough.
“Mike is thrilled that Owen can make it. Are there any food issues we should know about?”
“No, he eats everything.” I try not to grimace at just how much of everything he’s been eating lately. I swear the kid grows an inch every time I turn around and he’s only ten. We’re going to need to replace his tae kwon do pads by the end of the season if he keeps up at this rate.
“Boys, right?” Helen chuckles and I recall Mike has two older brothers at the high school with Meg. Helen smiles fondly at Owen and Mike with their sweaty heads together as they enthuse about their plans for tomorrow. “Just wait until they’re teenagers.”
“Yeah.” I force a tight smile. I don’t want to wish away any time with my kids. Hopefully, I’ll be in a better position financially in a few years when Owen is a teenager. “Does he need to bring anything for tomorrow?”
“Oh, no, dear.” She gives me the sort of pitying look I’ve learned to ignore from the parents of my kid’s friends. That’s the problem with staying in Elk’s Pass all my life. Some days, it seems like everyone knows all about me. “If he’s got a red or green sweater, we usually have a festive dress code, but I’m sure Mike has an extra one Owen can borrow if need be.”
