Halos and Heroes - 16. Chapter 16

"You know that tingly little feeling you get when you really like someone? That’s your common sense leaving your body."

 

BEN and I had made round five, a hands only experience. His glassed-in shower stall had been a tight fit for just me to begin with, and even Ben’s impressive contortionist skills were defeated by the narrow walls. But when he’d promised, ‘later,’ then described in explicit detail where he expected my hands, mouth, and dick to find a new home in that referenced, ‘later,’ my strength of my whiteout orgasm had temporarily blinded me. I couldn’t watch the evidence of how hard I’d shot, washing down the drain with the lather of body wash and Ben’s own spunk a strangled breath later, but hearing his ragged breathing in my ear had been more than good enough.

I’d ended up wearing one of Ben’s t-shirts again, though I’d purposely left my own neatly folded on his bed after I’d rescued it from the dryer. It sent an obvious, Terminator-esque message that I’d be back, which I figured he’d like. Considering that the t-shirt he’d lent me was the same one he’d worn the night he’d picked me up from the bar, my claim on him was mid-level subtle. His... not at all. Proven when A.J. took one look at me when we walked into Sofia’s kitchen together as he was taking the lasagna out of the oven, and promptly gave me the enthusiastic AMEN! that the shirt’s wording asked for.

Ben grinned, not missing a beat as he threw up his hands like a rejuvenated revivalist. A.J. snickered. He smoothly handed the lasagna dish to Sofia, fist-bumped Ben, then planted a smacking, noisy kiss on my cheek with a cheerful, “Good for you Sarge! Only took a divine intervention to remove the stick from your butt. Though to be fair, from the way you’re walkin,’ seems like that stick was well replaced.”

I justified getting him into a playful headlock and scuffling around the kitchen like two rowdy toddlers by telling myself he wasn’t holding the lasagna pan anymore, so there was no chance of him dropping it, and us ruining dinner. Sofia didn’t agree. I felt her slim palm make contact with the back of my head as soon as she’d set the pan on the island counter.

“Enough of that,” she scolded. “You’re going to scuff the floors, and I just mopped this morning.”

“Your quest for Martha Stewart Living is why I got popped, and A.J. didn’t?”

My brass balls threatened to melt beneath the intensity of Sofia’s hairy eyeball, but the subtle hint of color rising in her cheeks, was a win in my book of brotherly teasing, and worth the threat to any possibility of little Sams in the future after she crushed said balls.

“A.J.’s a guest.”

“A.J.’s one of my best friends,” I countered. “That means I’m allowed to occasionally lay him out so he remembers who’s in charge.”

A. J’s chuckle was almost euphoric as he broke free from my hold as Sofia, and I faced off. I was sure some suggestive sexual commentary, combined with, “Sarge,” would pop out of his mouth to up our teasing game of bullshit, but neither of us was prepared for the sudden addition of a new player in the game.

“If I didn’t think she’d burst into flames over it, I’d challenge you both to consider that the job of that beautiful intelligent creature in the pink blouse, whom we shall not name.”

Tara grinned at me as she appeared like a wayward Genie released from its bottle. Her flowing cream-colored pants were covered in bold flowers that spanned the entirety of the red color spectrum, just like Sofia’s cheeks were. She made a strangled sound low in her throat as she glared at me when I snickered. I grinned at Tara, who winked at me, waved at Ben, then added, “Amen’s all around I see. Well done sirs.”

She blew a kiss at Sofia as she placed a half-eaten jar of sprinkles on the counter by the coffee maker. “A little prison contraband that was hidden behind the unicorn and elephant Beanie babies in Emma’s room. I snuck it out.”

Ben and I booed her for breaking the sacred law of ratting out kids who thought you walked on water. Tara countered by saying that she was ok with sparing a kid’s teeth and earning brownie points with the sexiest brunette in the room. Since Sofia was the only brunette in the kitchen, there wasn’t even the pretense of subtlety.

A.J. shifted just in time to rescue the serving platter of garlic bread that Sofia fumbled in her frazzled state, as quick on his feet as he was with his mouth. He caught the dish with his left hand before it, or any of the fragrant, toasted bread slices hit the floor. His right arm immediately curved around Sofia slender waist at the same time, to steady her when she turned away from us to get glasses from the cupboard.

From my position across the room, on the opposite end of the island from them, I couldn’t see her face, but A.J.’s head had dipped closed to hers in profile. Though I couldn’t hear his actual words as he spoke quietly to her, I did hear Sofia start to laugh softly. The sound had a hint of self-consciousness to it. Whether that was because Tara had teased her, or because of whatever A.J. was saying, was anyone’s guess. But I could see the tension in her shoulders releasing as she relaxed into him. She nodded to acknowledge their conversation, before A.J. pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

I caught Sofia’s soft smile as she looked up at him through her long lashes. I also caught the subtle hooking of his hand around her now bare ring finger, for a solid beat as he moved around her to get the dish of Emma’s blue box mac n’ cheese and carry it to the island where we were setting up dinner, buffet style.

Sofia tossed a balled-up napkin at Tara’s head, then asked for her help with making the salad. Tara obliged after hugging Sofia hard until she laughed and shooed her away to start slicing tomatoes. A.J. kicked my ankle on his way to the fridge to get a beer for himself, and one for Tara, after Ben and I both declined. The look of approval I got for not drinking was expected. So was the impressed look he shot Ben.

“Miracles never cease around you,” he said to Ben. To me, he said, “I vote we keep him.”

“Already beat you to it,” I said, feeling my own cheeks starting to fall into the same color pattern of Tara’s pants.

“Hooah,” A.J. said, then tapped his beer bottle against Tara’s before they both looked at me and said, “AMEN!”

I rolled my eyes, then turned toward the door as I heard what sounded like a stampede of elephants rampaging through the house after the front door opened, then slammed shut behind the three kids that burst through the kitchen doorway. My brow hitched and held as I took in Emma’s flushed face. Her glasses were drooping down her little nose as usual, long braid already askew. Just behind her, was another little girl with a blonde ponytail sticking out beneath a well-worn Yankee baseball cap. Her blue summer dress was printed with pink flamingos, and she had on sneakers that were a black and white version of Emma’s pink and purple ones. The little boy with them, was wearing shorts, and a grubby dinosaur t-shirt stained with what looked like chocolate ice cream. He appeared to be about the same age as the girls. His dark hair cut shaggily cut, flopping limply over his forehead, and plastered tohis skin with sweat. I suspected it wasn’t all due to the heat, when his words burst him free from the hot seat before the girls could say anything about why the hell they were moving with the speed of roadrunners, but the fury of Tasmanian devils.

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“Yes, it was! You tossed it too high!”

The little blonde squared her hands on her narrow hips, drawing my attention to the bright red wiffle bat that I hadn’t noticed she was holding until now. Apparently Stateside life was making me slow on the uptake.

“Did not! You just hit it too hard!”

“That’s because you said I’d hit like a girl. So, I did!”

A brief glance away from the kids led me to adults who were just as mystified as I was.

“What’s going on kiddo?” I addressed the question to Emma as I squatted down on my haunches in front of her. The other two children were still bickering with a ferocity that made me suspect that they were either siblings, despite the physical differences between them, or just future spouses in the making.

Emma pushed her glasses up higher on her slim nose. “We were playing baseball outside, and Brian told Taylor that she couldn’t hit the ball like boys could.”

A snicker from somewhere behind me let me know everyone else present in the adult peanut gallery was listening, though they weren’t going to touch this sideways conversation with a 10-ft pole, unofficially decreeing me Johnny-on-the-spot.

My own lips twitched as I nodded solemnly, then leaned forward to tie the loose purple laces on Emma’s right sneaker. She could do it herself, but she was currently mid-story, punctuating her words with her hands like both Sofia and Ben did when they were excitedly animated.

“I see. And I’m guessing she did?”

“No, she hit it like a girl Uncle Sam. Really really hard.”

My lips twitched again as Taylor stopped arguing with Brian long enough to chime in.

“The ball’s stuck on the roof because I told Brian to throw it straight, but he threw a knuckleball. Not my fault he doesn’t listen!”

I coughed into my fist to hide my smile as I straightened up. “If it’s high, let it fly, right Taylor?”

I was treated to a wide grin that was missing so many front teeth, I got the impression of a delighted jack-o’-lantern.

“Yup. He’s just a knucklehead.”

“Sometimes boys are,” I said as Brian squawked in protest. “Which is why girls have to be extra nice to us when we have those kinds of goofy moments. We generally mean well. Deal?”

Taylor grumbled, but nodded and mumbled a reluctant, ‘sorry’ to Brian beneath her breath. Emma grinned as she took my hand, her voice pitched to that ridiculous stage whisper kids always thought was stealthy, even though people could hear them on Mars.

“They’re always fighting, Uncle Sam. Like me and Addie do sometimes, but they’re not brother and sister.”

Future spouses for sure.

I grinned, then glanced at Taylor and Brian who were bickering again, this time over what sounded like who was the best superhero, Spiderman or The Hulk.

“Well, let’s go get the ball so there’s one less thing for them to argue about. Okay?”

Emma nodded, and I used the fingers of my free left hand to whistle hard to get an already grinning A.J.’s attention, and startle both Taylor and Brian into momentary silence.

“I need backup on a search and rescue mission. You game?”

A.J. offered a lazy salute, his smile making his eyes crinkle. That was my one warning before he said, “After you, Sarge. Fearless leaders always go first. I’ll bring up the rear. Platonically of course, Father Ben.”

Ben laughed. So did Tara and Sofia. I gave A.J. a not so gentle shove towards the door when he passed me, to make him take the lead. I didn’t trust him not to pinch me in the ass.

“We’ll be right back.”

That statement was addresses to everyone in the room, but it was Ben who gently brushed the knuckles of his hand ever so slightly across mine in a discreet touch, as he moved around Emma and me, with a large wooden salad bowl in his other hand.

I smiled, then sighed inwardly. If he and A.J. were taking notes from one another’s playbooks, I was screwed.

“We’ll be here.”

I met his eyes for a moment, struggling against the sudden temptation to kiss Ben in front of my family and friends. Considering the level of teasing they’d thrown my way the day Ben had kissed me on the cheek the last time we were in Sofia’s kitchen together, I wasn’t sure I was ready for the inevitable escalation if I so much as brushed the briefest pack over his lips. Instead, I followed A.J. and the kids out to the front yard before my resolve crumbled. It took about five minutes for the kids to each give me their personal predictions about where the ball had gotten to, before A.J. and I got the metal ladder out of Sofia’s garage so we could scale our way up. I could’ve fetched the ball alone, because it was just stuck in the center of the gutter, but after I tossed it down to a now cheering trio, there was a valid reason for me to sit down for a spell. I gestured for A.J. to join me. We could take out two birds with one stone, or in this case, wiffle ball; catch each other up on our personal lives, and catch any stray balls if Brian went full 7-year-old knucklehead again, with another wild pitch.

“So, I’m guessin’ part of the reason behind this mission, was to get me alone?”

“Are we really alone with two gossiping women downstairs, one equally gossipy priest, and the three amigos down there?”

A.J. smirked as he drew his knees up, sneakers firmly planted to get a better perch on his part of the roof.

“Are we startin’ with you and sexy Father Santiago bein’ the reason you were a little slow goin’ up the ladder, hindered by that new, subtly bow-legged stride?” His grin widened as I flipped him off, “Or that I’m makin’ moves on your sister-in-law?”

“Sister,” I corrected. “Which means I don’t want details that’ll get you pushed off the roof.”

A.J. snickered, the same sound I’d heard in the kitchen when I was getting the rundown from the kids on the ball game gone awry.

“You know I trust you with my life, man, but I still have to ask, what's the end game here? We never see each other this often. Your secretary always says you make workaholics look lazy.”

“You sayin’ you want to see less of me? You’re breakin’ my heart, Sarge.”

“Your heart and hers are what I’m concerned about. I don’t want you two hurting each other. Aside from being a brunette, Sofia isn’t your usual type.”

“My usual type is beautiful, intelligent and open-minded. She’s all three, considerin’ she loves you and God equally."

“She’s all those things,” I agreed. “But she also has two kids, doesn’t drink till she’s sloppy, and she isn’t a ‘slutty bunny’—”

“Loose lady,” A.J. corrected with an amused look.

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. She’s not like the other girls. You also like living a certain lifestyle with high-end finishes, questionable artwork, and ridiculously expensive furniture that isn’t sprinkle friendly.”

“I pay my housekeeper very well, Sam.”

“Sofia’s still trying to figure herself out.”

“Aren’t we all? People are constantly changin’. We aren’t trees, so if we don’t like somethin’, we can just move. Look, man, I know the emotional stuff is hard for you, so you’re probably dyin’ a little inside with admittin’ that you care, and not just about Sofia. But I’ll be straight up with you. Ninety-five percent of the reason that you and I didn’t see each other this often before, was because I retired and you were off—” he drew a lone finger briefly across his own throat, “bad mofos who deserved it. But now you’re a stateside slacker just like me, which means more FaceTime call, and face-to-face shenanigans. Business is good, and I can do a lot of my meetin’s via conference call, or Skype. I have solid people at HQ who I trust to run things when I’m not there. You know I refuse to work with stupid people, so I’m good with distribution of responsibility.” He glanced at me sideways. ”And Florida’s just as hell-tits-hot as Alabama, so it’ll hold back some of the homesickness for a while.”

“How long is this mini vacation going to be for?”

“About 2 weeks, maybe three. I moved some things around in my schedule. I have meetin’s with potential clients out here. The company’s grown a lot in the last few years, so though we’re still based in Alabama, we get client protection requests nationwide.” He paused for a moment, pulling out his serious face as his gaze met mind steadily.

“We’re takin’ things slow. I’m not lookin’ to hurt her, Sam, or confuse the kids. Neither is Sofia. She’s always goin’ to be their mom first, and I’m ok with that. Look, to be honest, it was supposed to be a one-night good time. We didn’t expect to get along as well as we do, but she’s a good person. We have a lot in common, like art and cookin,’ and she trusts your taste in men more than her own, so she knows I’m safe.”

He winked at me when I huffed out a laugh. “And frankly, I’m here to spend time with you as much as her, Sarge. I missed your big, three-headed, dog dick ass.”

His grin reappeared, and I laughed. “Yeah, missed you too. And yeah, I said it,” I said when A.J. widened his eyes at me as he splayed his right hand over his heart like it was about to stop. “Shut up.”

“Holy hell, that man has some serious Mojo if he got you in touch with all of your warm fuzzy feelin’s. He really dug in deep for those.”

“If you don’t want to end up getting bitched out by hungry kids, and a pissed off homemaker who can curse you out in two languages—”

“Five,” A.J. said, volunteering that new information with a waggle of his rusty eyebrows. “She picked up the Russian and German ones quickly. Her French accent is better, but she says it sounds too pretty to cuss in."

“Fine, if you don’t want to end up getting bitched out by hungry kids, and a pissed off homemaker who can curse you out in five languages while you get scraped off the sidewalk, and rushed to the ER via ambulance, shut up.”

Eye’s twinkling, A.J. mimed zipping his lips. I counted down in my head from ten, getting to six before he spoke again.

“Seriously, you look good, Sarge. Happy. And not just in the happy endin’ with a twist kind of way. You look serene, like a big, badass yogi. Good for you.”

“Yeah… I’m happy. Feels a little weird to be honest, like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop at any given minute.”

“That’s just because you’re not used to a settled state of affairs in your own head. You’re also not used to dating the kind of guy you deserve to be with. And nope, you don’t get to start all that growlin’ noise just because you’re an emotionally constipated human bein’. Feelin’s happen, Sam. It’s a good thing when they’re directed at someone who wants to return them. And from that oh-so-stealthy, middle school hand graze I saw down in the kitchen earlier, I can assure you that Ben wants to. Only a man who’s sure of what he wants, can nut up enough to embrace that kind of hokey sweetness.”

“Yo pot, I’m kettle.”

A.J. burst out laughing, the baritone rolling deep in the breeze, confident and amused. His cheeks were stained with the faintest tint of color as I called him out, though the blush was still lighyears away from the vivid color of his hair.

“That’s fair. But like I said, we’re takin’ things slow. We live in two different states, and neither of us is ready to move. Sofie’s also dealin’ with the whole former catholic guilt thing of discreetly canoodlin’ with a good southern boy while her prick of a late husband’s still recent fertilizer. Plus, there’s the kids—who I think are great, by the way— and they need some time to adjust to the new world order, especially Addie. You’re home now, and I think that needs to be the focus. I’m in no rush. We’ll take things as they come.”

My lips curved into a slight smile as I caught the casually affectionate nickname. It made my few doubts lessen. I’d never seen A.J. serious about a woman before, but to be fair, until Ben, I’d never been serious about any man other than Max. Like A.J. had said, people changed.

“You’ve only been back two times so far.”

A.J.’s slow smile indicated he picked up on the double meaning. “Third time’s always the charm, even if it comes months, or years later. I told you that.”

He bumped his fist slightly against mine before we just watched the kids playing for a moment. Brian and Taylor seemed to have called a temporary truce.

“You really are walkin’ with a bit of a limp though, Sarge.”

I grunted to keep my lips from widening into a telling smile. “Ben’s a priest. Guiding people heaven bound is his thing.”

“Are we talking choir of angels, or a pit stop at the pearly gates?”

A.J. whooped when my cheeks visibly heated as I remembered Ben’s earlier promises of a, ‘pearl necklace.’

“For a straight man, you’re way too invested in my sex life.”

“You’re my best friend, so it’s nosiness inspired by always havin’ your six. That, and I have an obscene number of gossipy females in my life, most of them related to me. Also, our mutual best friend is a freak and a half, considerin’ that some of his stories are wild enough that I’d call bullshit if I didn’t know better.”

“Don’t ever take a bet that he’s lying. Max has never needed to embellish.”

“Uh-huh. He’s a filthy mother,” A.J. said, grinning widely before he swept me with a slow look, and soft chuff of sound that made my brow lift.

“What?”

“Nothin’. Was just thinkin’ that this is the first time that the mention of Max’s man-ho status hasn’t made that little vein at the corner of your left temple turn green. Your stoic as fuck, Sarge, but that’s always been your one tell.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Ben and I want to see where this goes. Max had his chance. He didn’t want it. Didn’t want me.”

“He wanted you, Sam. We both know that. He’s just got some stupid stuff happenin’ in his head that he doesn’t know how to work out. Maybe he doesn’t even know what it is. I don’t know either because he won’t talk about whatever is going on. But don’t think for a second that he didn’t love you, because you’ll just use that as an excuse to justify why you can’t be happy with a good guy like Ben.” He looked up at the clouds, eyes unfocused like he was thinking, before he looked back at me. “That said, if you don’t try and use your words like they taught us in grammar school, then you don’t get to be pissed off when you don’t get what you want. Max knows that. Logically. But head and heart generally conflict at least a few times in most people’s lives.”

“You think he’s going to be pissed off that Ben and I are seeing each other?”

I doubted that, but Max and A.J. were as close to each other as I was to each of them, so if anyone had an inside track to anything Max didn’t share with me for some reason or another, it was A.J..

“He was the one who told me to give Ben a shot.”

“And I’m sure he meant it at the time, because he’s a good man beneath the bullshit. One who generally does the right thing. All I’m sayin,’ without actually gettin’ into the middle of that complicated, codependent as hell mess the two of you have goin’ on, is that I’m happy you chose Ben, and I hope you keep choosin’ him. He’s good for you. I’ve never seen you this relaxed in all the years I’ve known you, Sam. I just wanted you to know that things might be a little strained for a few beats when Max gets down here and gets to see that for himself. That’s all.”

I stiffened slightly. “He doesn’t get to be jealous, A.J.”

“No, he doesn’t,” he agreed. “Just like kids know they can’t eat candy after they brush their teeth at night. Doesn’t mean they don’t occasionally need a gentle reminder. Sometimes from more than one person.”

I nodded, reading between the lines. Apparently A.J. was person number one in this scenario.

Part of me was happy for the heads up. Another part of me wished that we could’ve just kept enjoying the easy camaraderie between us, without throwing Max into the mix. A.J. had been trying to help, not stir up a pot of almost twenty years of conflicted feelings, but the end result was still the same.

I wanted Ben. I’d chosen Ben, but a tinny voice in the back of my mind, that spoke in the grating sing-song of the puppets in Disney’s, “Small World,” ride, reminded me that even though Max had been out of sight, and out of mind by default since I’d left him behind in Afghanistan to come home, he’d also been the person that I’d leaned on my entire adult life. What we had wasn’t the exhilarating, but equally terrifying connection I had with Ben, but Max was safe. We’d been safe. I just had to keep reminding myself that safe had never done me any good.

“If it comes up when he gets down here, I’ll talk to him about it. Otherwise, some things are best left alone.” The new tension in my neck and shoulders crackled like popcorn in a microwave as I rolled my shoulders back. “He texted me last night to tell me he’s at home in Jersey with his parents right now.”

“Yeah, I know. He called me on his way home from the airport when his folks pick them up. I’m assumin’ his ETA down here will be in the next few weeks, after Vera gets done with babyin’ him something fierce. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be an only child. In my family we were lucky if we got a kiss pressed to the band-Aid that was tossed our way with a, ‘you’re ok, keep goin’.” Once my parents got past the four kids mark, it was every man for themselves. Babies one and two got all the love, and big bars of high expectations. Which is why my oldest brother and sister are both very rich, high-powered attorneys in life-long therapy.” He grinned. “The rest of us gave new meanin’ to the term, ‘feral children,’ especially after my aunts and uncles started poppin’ out kids.”

I’d met every single member of A.J.’s family at one time or another over the years. They were a close-knit bunch, and he wasn’t wrong about the feral part. His nieces and nephews were following in their aunt and uncle’s footsteps too. They were all crazy, but it was always a good time.

“Probably, I agreed. “Ben’s going away in a few days with the youth group on a retreat, so we’ll be spending as much time as we can together until then. I’m going home with him tonight after dinner.”

“When you commit, it’s all in, balls out, Sarge. Good for you. I’d skip the footy pajamas for your slumber parties, though the ones with the butt flaps would be pretty damn convenient.”

This time I laughed with him.

“Can you do me a favor tonight?”

“You know I’d do anythin’ for you, man, but if you want me to give you pointers, just know I’m not up on all the ins and outs of gay Twister.”

I ignored him. “Can you run to CVS with Sofia after dinner, and pick up the photos I had printed there? Ben’s going to be taking more candid shots, but I printed the ones I took on my phone for the new family photo wall. Just have Sofia make a pile of the ones that she likes, and we’ll use those to get an idea of how many frames we’ll need. I’m going to order those big collage ones. I think three of them across that wall will look good, in addition to a few loose frames of the really important photos all around.”

“Is that why Addie asked if I was okay with her sendin’ that selfie of her, Emma, and me to you?”

“I asked her to send me photos she liked, and thought might work. It’s a family theme, so I’m trying to get everyone involved. There’s already one of Sofia and the girls with Tara from last Christmas in the pile. The one of Sofia, Max and I as kids, will go back up there as well. So will the one of me holding Addie as a baby, because there’s no way that I won’t keep that one front and center.”

For once, A.J. seemed to be at a loss for words, but the slightly crooked smile he offered me spoke volumes. “Family’s all about who you choose, Sarge. God knows you’ve been mine since the first day you told me to drop and give you a hundred pushups when my intro to the team was me askin’ if Cerberus had three dicks to go along with his three heads.”

We both laughed again, then turned as we heard Ben call our names.

“Sounds like we’re being summoned. I’ll go wrangle the squirts. That little blonde one is feisty.”

“Yeah she is, but she has shit taste in baseball teams.”

“Probably has a thing for Jeter. All the chick’s dig him. Probably plenty of dudes too.”

“He’s too cocky for me.”

“Cocky’s okay so long as he can back it up.” His smile was a slow adjustment of muscles that crinkled his eyes and popped dimples out in his cheeks. It was a smile that got him out of trouble as often as it got him into it. “Like some people who we shall not name, can.”

A.J. shot a pointed look down Ben’s way, then grinned is he scooted down the ladder. I moved to follow but was stopped by the appearance of Ben halfway up the ladder. He grinned as he waved me back onto the roof. After I returned to my previous spot, he sat in A.J.’s vacated one.

“Thought dinner was ready?”

“Almost. Tara had to take a quick client call, and Sofia didn’t want to start without her. She has the lasagna hanging out in the still warm oven, so it won’t get cold. The rest can hold for the ten or fifteen minutes it’ll take for Tara to finish her call, and for A.J. to remember he was supposed to be rounding up the kids. Taylor and Brian are staying for dinner. But it looks like he got a little distracted.”

I followed his gaze over the edge of the rooftop, to see A.J. tossing a ball back and forth in a triangular formation with Taylor and Brian, while Emma cheered indiscriminately for all three of them. I grinned. That was my kid.

“Definitely at least ten minutes,” I said to Ben. “A.J.’s very popular with people under the age of ten. He has a ridiculous number of nieces and nephews. But it works out for me. It’s quieter up here anyway. Those two are wild.”

Ben smiled and scooted closer to me. “They argue like an old married couple,” he said, echoing my earlier sentiment. “They’re both part of our younger youth group. Adelyn’s In the teen group, but about three years ago we started one for ages five to twelve. Some of the kids in the older group volunteer to help with the little ones when we do special events. It gives them a sense of responsibility, and the young ones like being able to hang out with, ‘the big kids.’ “

“So, it’s basically free babysitting?”

“Yep, but with crafts and cookies, so everyone’s happy.”

“You and the cookies again,” I said with a chuckle. “Your sweet tooth’s worse than Emma’s.”

“Not true. I don’t hide jars behind unsuspecting Beanie Babies and eat the sprinkles straight out of the container.”

“True, but can you say the same about sugar cubes if I were to set a box of them in front of you in the morning when it’s time for coffee?”

Ben made a soft huffing sound that I interpreted as, ‘I’m-not-going-to-lie-to-you, but-I’m-also-not-admitting-that you’re-absolutely-right, either.’

“I’m not a horse, Samuel.”

“According to A.J., I’m walking like I just got off of one, so if the cock fits, Benjamin…”

Ben’s laughter was immediately pressed into my mouth, muffling my own when he leaned over to kiss me.

“So bad,” he murmured. “I like it. You really do get bold when there’s a chaperoning audience and time constraints.”

“You wouldn’t consider it as much of a win if I gave everything up easily. Besides, I’m planning to go home with you tonight. I have some laundry to do at your place, and we won’t have an audience there.”

“Laundry that’s staying? Because I can clear out both a drawer and closet space for you.”

“Bringing out the big guns?”

“Always. Are you running?”

“Not yet.”

Ben looked pleased by my answer, relaxing as he reached for my hand. Just that one touch pushed all uncomfortable thoughts of Max out of my mind.

“I know you don’t want details that will make you put your hands over your ears, and hum, ‘Wheels on the Bus,’ but you left me alone with Sofia and Tara, so I can officially confirm that Sofia and A.J. have a thing. What exactly the thing is, they don’t know, but she vacillated between the color of strawberries and radishes the entire time the three of us were talking.”

“Yeah, I know. A.J. and I talked about it earlier,” I said, grinning as the look on Ben’s face instantly morphed from surprise to almost adolescent disappointment, like I’d stolen his thunder. Chuckling, I kissed his pout away. “They’re taking it slow, but he’ll be around from time to time. It gives us a chance to reconnect better. Once he retired from the Rangers, and I joined up with Delta, our contact was spottier than both of us liked. It had to be, due to the nature of what I did, and what he does now. But he’s my best friend next to Max, and I guess I forgot that until he was here. I missed that mouthy little ginger.”

Ben’s thumb brushed lightly over the top of my hand. “I’m glad you’re making nurturing your friendships a priority, Sam. It’s important to have a tribe.”

“I know. In the military, my teams were my tribe, but out here, I guess I felt lost. Just didn’t realize it until I had my family and friends, both new and old, around me like this. Is that stupid?”

“Absolutely not. Human beings are social creatures. We crave connection, both physical and emotional. Everyone in your circle wants to offer you all of their love and emotional support.”

“What…what about you?”

My throat was already dry, but when Ben kept his gaze steadily on mine and said, “everything,” in a voice as soft as honeyed sin, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth like Velcro. I couldn’t protest as I was suddenly swept up by a tsunami wave of Déjà vu.

The last time that I sat on a suburban rooftop like this, other than with A.J. a few minutes ago, had been with Max, though that been on the roof of his parent’s home when we were sixteen, the same day we’d started our casual relationship. On that day, he’d told me he couldn’t give me forever, or even exclusive. And I’d accepted that with a sense of satisfied resignation, because it had been good enough. But now, with Ben offering me everything, including something as small as rearranging his drawers so I could fit more comfortably in his life, I realized that ‘good enough’, hadn’t been nearly enough.

“He should be here in a few weeks. Max,” I clarified.

Ben got bonus points for cool grace as he nodded. “That’s good… I’m sure you’re looking forward to seeing him, especially after he was injured.”

I nodded. “I want to see with my own two eyes that he’s okay, and to introduce him to…” I paused, unsure of how to define Ben as. Boyfriend sounded too juvenile, but partner was definitely too heavy for this point in our relationship. I couldn’t call him my lover in public and maintain a straight pace at the same time. I exhaled. “…To the guy whose bed I want to spend the next three days in until he has to leave for a week-long adventure with teenage terrorists. The guy,” I added quietly. ‘who makes me feel like what I maybe could’ve been if life hadn’t screwed me up with all of its B.S.”

Ben smile softened, and this time when we kissed, a twin set of wolf whistles pierced the air, one higher pitched than the other. When Ben and I glanced down, Tara waved to us, and A.J. blew us a kiss. Emma was happily situated on his hip, and she waved to us as well.

“I was sent to fetch all the children,” Tara said, looping her arm through A.J.’s to make her point. “So, let’s move it along people. Though you might’ve boosted the property values around here,” she called out. “Roof with a view, and all.”

I snorted, ignoring the heat in my cheeks as I let Ben go down first. The moment my own feet touched down on the ground, he pushed me up against the side wall of the house, which was out view of the street, to steal a kiss that curled my toes. I blamed the lack of air in my lungs as the reason I had no response when he said, “If we make the roof a ‘pay-per-view’ spot, imagine the dollar signs…”

***

“So, how does it feel to be a man who has it all?”

I glanced up as Tara met my eyes over the piece of pizza she was inhaling. It was her third slice, and the protective way that she’d crowded the pepperoni box closer to her elbow, assured me it wouldn’t be her last. Thankfully, we’d gotten another large pie, half cheese, and half sausage and mushroom for Sofia and the girls. Good pizza was a guilty pleasure I rarely indulged in, but after a day spent shopping with Tara to find something to wear to the opening of Romans newest club, I deserved pizza.

I didn’t like shopping for groceries, much less clothing with buttons past the one of my fly. But I’d promised Ben, so I’d let Tara dress me up like her personal Ken doll until she was satisfied. I had waved my white flag when she’d finally returned to the food court—where she’d left me with a root beer and all the bags—with a small pink one, in right her hand. I’d eyed her, recognizing the insignia on the bag. I was very, very gay, but I’d also grown up in the era when annual ads for the VS’s Angels, fashion shows, were plastered in between prime time TV show breaks. When I’d made a plaintive comment about her leaving me alone to buy frilly, girly things for herself, she’d shown me her teeth and sweetly informed me that it was a gift for Sofia and A.J., not for herself.

I’d hummed, ‘Wheels on the Bus,’ the entire way back to the parking lot, though my hands had been too full of bags to plug my ears.

I swept her with a wary look now, sure this was a question was going to be one that lead somewhere I wasn’t prepared for.

“What do you mean?”

I picked a piece of pepperoni off of my second pizza slice, then flipped it onto Tara’s plate in an experiment of curiosity. The small disc of overly processed meat lasted all of 3 seconds before it was popped into her mouth, like chum in a shark tank.

“Well, you have a fantastic family, a cute ginger friend who I actually approve of, even though I’m not usually a fan of redheads. You also have a new, phenomenally fabulous and intelligent best gal pal—" She pointed to herself with the hand not holding her pizza hostage, “and a really hot boyfriend guaranteed to get you into heaven. You got it all, man.”

“Boyfriend? We’re not in high school Tara.”

“Excuse me,” she sniffed. “Beau? Paramour?”

“A guy friend I’m really into.”

Her indignation was almost immediately mollified by the second piece of my pepperoni that made it her way. How she could eat the way she did, and still maintain her weight at barely a buck twenty, was a world-class mystery.

“Friends with of plenty of benefits,” she said. “You two did the whole honeymoon phase through the entirety of last week, all floaty with hearts aflutter after being properly laid.”

“Keep talking dirty and I’m not sharing anymore of my pepperoni.”

“So, you’ll negotiate with a meat stick I’m actually interested in putting in my mouth so long as we don’t have to discuss your personal one? Sweet.”

I laughed. “God, you remind me of Max. The two of you are either going to adore each other or go down in a blaze of glory like the OK Coralle. Be warned, he bites.”

“So do I, sugar. How about a wager? If Max and I do end up scrapping it out and I win, which we both know I will, you confirm my theory that your bowlegged status last week was because of this.”

I snorted when she ended her sentence with a waggle of her slim blonde brows, and her neatly manicured hands spanned an obscene distance apart.

“You sure you’re a lesbian?”

“Yes, I’m a very sexually frustrated lesbian,” she said, frowning at the pizza box before she took the plunge on her fourth slice after surveying all of the remaining slices with a critical eye, before selecting the one with the most pepperoni.

“My last disastrous date was over 4 months ago, so I’m living vicariously through you.”

“Four months?” I whistled low. “Practically a nun.”

“Don’t slut shame, sir. Meeting people romantically is hard for the average person. Being a shrink escalates the speed at which people’s crazy manifests. Attracting gorgeous Fruit Loops is a whacked-out superpower of mine on speed.”

My laugh earned me a dirty look.

“Tara, I was in the closet for almost my entire adult life, so ‘arrested romantic development,’ takes on a whole new definition with me. I wouldn’t use Ben and I as poster children for a relationship worthy of vicarious living just yet. I’m trying to keep up, but the only reason we even got together in the first place is because he has the patience of a saint, and a set of very determined brass balls.”

“Hah. Big balls have to be accompanied by even bigger…” She put her pizza slice down to span the air with her hands again, grumbling about me being stingy when I ignored her. “Come on. It’s not like I’m asking if you fall into these parameters.”

“If you ask, I’m going to throw your L word card at you.”

“What are we throwing?””

Tara and I both turned to look at the doorway as Sofia entered the room with several bags of groceries that she set on the counter. For a moment our banter was paused by the fact that we were both just staring at my sister-in-law like we’d seen an alien for the first time.

Sofia seemed to be oblivious for the few moments that it took for her to start pulling things out of the bags and separating them on the counter so they’d be easier to put into the cupboard later.

Tara and I exchanged a long look, neither of us having words. The contraband box of Twinkies poking out of the top of a bag of otherwise organic groceries was unusual, but a lot less conversation stopping than Sofia's new look. In the three hours that she'd been gone since leaving the house early to start running her errands, shortly before I’d left with Tara to go to the mall, Sofia had gotten her waist length hair chopped into a short, flattering style that fell just above her slender shoulders, and highlighted her high cheekbones. The glossy dark strands gleamed with reddish highlights under the kitchen lights, instead of her previous natural silver. She was wearing actual makeup for the first time since I’ve been home, though it was still subtle, just enough to enhance what God had naturally given her. She was wearing jeans, but they were a darker, more flattering wash and cut than her usual ones which Addie had dubbed, ‘mom jeans.’ Wedge sandals, and a flowy floral blouse made out of some filmy material that skimmed just past her hips, finished off her outfit.

I arched my eyebrow. Ten years had been taken from her previous look with the makeover. When she smiled at Tara and me, off went another five. For the first time since I'd come back to Florida, I recognized the pretty, confident girl I'd known as a kid.

The confidence wavered slightly when we continued staring at her mutely for another long moment, a freshly manicured hand with short, pale pink nails, going up to tug nervously at the shorn strands of her hair.

"Is it bad? I know it’s a little drastic, but I needed a change."

"I love it," Tara said, cutting off my response with enough fervor that Sofia grinned, her expression relaxing into good humor.

“And just like that, she’s a lesbian again.”

Tara absently rubbed her right temple with her middle finger in my direction, her gaze sweeping over Sofia slowly. Someone definitely approved.

I shot an amused look at Sofia who chuckled, though she probably had no idea what I was talking about.

"Did I ever tell you that I slept with a girl once?” Sofia said, as she started unpacking the rest of the groceries. “It was back during one of the times Connor and I were 'off' in our relationship, about a year after Adelyn was born."

A mischievous smile curved her mouth when Tara and I exchanged a silent look.

"What? I was adventurous once, and she was from Boston, so it wasn't like I'd see her again."

"Slut," I said, the tease in my voice drawing another chuckle from Sofia after she winked at me.

"Next time you're feeling adventurous, you don't need to look to Massachusetts, just your own happy Floridian backyard." Tara leaned into the counter, giving both Sofia and me a good look down the front of her creamy lace blouse.

Sofia's grin looked surprised but also pleased. "I'm your type?"

"Leggy, intelligent and gorgeous...whose type are you not?"

Sofia blushed, but the smile didn't slip. "Thanks, Tara."

"Anytime. Friends are always there for one another, so if you ever need to come by late at night to borrow a cup of sugar because you're craving something sweet, feel free."

"As much as this conversation should inspire salacious thoughts since I'm a guy, it's not happening. In fact, I'm feeling traumatized."

Sofia laughed. "Shush, Sam. Tara, as flattering as the offer is, I think that boat has sailed."

"Of course it has," Tara sighed, stealing the rest of my pizza as she slumped deeper into her stool at the counter. "Because of that damn little ginger. He’s lucky he has excellent taste in Thai and Indian food, or I’d have to break into my beloved vault of 80’s hits, and come up with a lesbian rendition of, ‘Jessie’s girl.’ ”

I snickered, then took a sip of my water. “Tell me what went wrong on your last date four months ago.”

“Why? Are you going to queerly mansplain my mistakes to me?”

I grinned. “Oooh, you’re nasty when you don’t get some,”

Tara smirked when I winced after her foot connected with the bone of my ankle.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I used to do just fine, thank you very much. The “nice” church going girls that Ben likes to set me up with, are wild beasts behind closed doors after a few glasses of good chardonnay. But there was a point where I decided to hold out for a real relationship. And it was great for six months because Kelly was beautiful, intelligent, and she made an amazing coconut chicken. Unfortunately for me, it turns out she was also a heartbreaking skank, who broke my heart with her GYN. Her male GYN.”

Sofia and I exchanged looks and made appropriately sympathetic noises.

“I’m sorry Tara. I remember the breakup, but you didn’t say why, so I thought it was because Kelly took the accounting job in North Carolina that she’d told us about when we all had dinner that one time.”

“Nope. She’s still living in Miami with a guy gets paid to look at hoo-haas all day. Does she really think that hers is going to hold any kind of special appeal at the end of the day?” Tara reached up to grab the Twinkie Sofia tossed at her. “Her profile said lesbian. In my personal experience, that’s 180 out from strictly dickly. So, imagine my surprise when I decided to use the house key she’d given me, to bring her a romantic lunch on a day I knew that she was working from home. I walked in with Thai food to find her and Mr. ‘I-do-pap-smears-for-a-living’ McGee, hairy balls a flapping, rolling around together in her bed.”

I impulsively reached over for her hand, giving it a light squeeze like she so often did to me. I wasn’t great at the physical affection and comfort thing, but I tried anyway. Being cheated on in any capacity was bad, but actually walking in on your partner with their side piece in the buff… Yeah, I knew what that shit felt like.

“She sounds like a word that starts with c, and rhymes with bundt. A word I won’t use out of respect for the two of you, because I know girls typically hate it. But I’m thinking it. I’ve been there. It sucks.”

Tara sighed. “It did, and thank you for the verbiage consideration, but around here we call a spade a spade, and a cunt a cunt.” She sighed again, squeezing my hand, then just holding it almost like Emma did when she needed to be reassured about something.

I didn’t let go.

“Anyway, after that I went the whole, ‘no strings,’ rebound route, until I agreed to meet up with a local chick who said she wanted to go for coffee.”

“That sounds good. A lot of people do coffee for a first date,” Sofia said, setting the cup of the sweet tea that she kept in the fridge for Tara, down in front of her before leaning down to hug Tara briefly around the neck. A smile a few notches less brilliant than Tara’s usual, was offered to Sofia.

“Thanks. And they do,” Tara agreed. “If they’re dipping their foot in the baby pool. But my profile said that I was ‘free-spirited, flirty, and looking for a good time with a like-minded girl.’ So, when Sloane said she wanted to meet for ‘coffee,’ at 2pm, I assumed that was code for, ‘spicy afternoon tryst.’”

Sloane. The name rang a bell somewhere in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t quite place it.

Sofia blinked at the last part of that sentence. I hid my grin in my hand with a rough cough. “I take it she actually meant coffee?”

“Yes, yes she did, Sam. But I didn’t know that, so I showered and showed up with a fresh Brazilian in my favorite cream-colored, crochet maxi dress. A dress that’s just the right amount of revealing in proper afternoon sunshine, so I was ready to be ravished like a gorgeous, less than virginal sacrifice. Instead, she got up when she saw me since she’d gotten there first, smiled, shook my hand, then pulled my chair out for me. Who does that?”

Sofia shot me a quizzical look. I shrugged. I wasn’t going to go there. Sofia on the other hand…

“You’re upset because she pulled out your chair? Why? I think that’s sweet, Tara.”

“The chair thing was, but a handshake? I wasn’t there for a business meeting or to buy a new car. A quick buss to the cheek, even an air kiss would’ve sent a signal that said she was at least appreciative of the effort put into acheving the view.”

“It sounds like she was a nice girl trying to be respectful, Tara. Most men don’t even do that anymore. A.J. does,” she added with a smile, when I arched an eyebrow pointedly. He’d better. “But most men don’t. I think Sloane was just being considerate.”

There was a gently chiding note in Sofia’s voice, and Tara sighed in defeat.

“Probably… I just didn’t expect it. And yeah, shame on me for that part, because I’m a shrink and I know better than to judge a book by its cover. In my defense though, Sloane’s a mechanic, and all sleek lines, ink, and metal, like a high-end drag car. I figured that she’d be the perfect kind of girl for a quick and fun, rebuilding of my pride. My foolishly dejected lesbian brain just wrongly assumed that as a sexy gearhead, she’d be happy to get right up under my hood.”

My face twisted because I didn’t need the imagery. Good God, if she’d been open to playing with a stick shift, she and Max would’ve kept themselves occupied for at least a week when he got here eventually. Though whether I’d be able to survive them at the same time if they became bosom bodies, was anyone’s guess.

“So, I’m guessing that the end of the story isn’t a happy one?”

“No, Sam, it sucked donkey dick,” she said with a dark look as she reached for her cell in its sunflower covered case, scrolling through it as she kept talking. Multi-tasking at its finest.

“Even more so after I realized that she’s a bartender at Romans’ club, Allegria, and that she’s going to be working the grand opening of his new one.”

Bingo. Now I remembered where I’d heard the name. Ben had mentioned Sloane’s name the day we’d talked about me teaching some Auto Shop101 to the kids at Maplewood.

“Here,” Tara said, before handing me her phone. I glanced back at her after taking in the photo of an attractive woman with hair that was a caramel brown but coffee dark at the roots, in a high ponytail, brown eyes, and a sleek, athletic frame. Both of her well-defined arms, as well as her right shoulder, were wrapped in colorful ink. Her nose was pierced, and she had gauges in her ears large enough to be obvious. Her right eyebrow was also pierced with a double hoop. Instead of the usual flirty, glamour shot photo most women put on their dating profiles, Sloane, while offering the camera a smile that was warm despite not showing teeth, was wearing a white wife beater, well-worn jeans torn at the left knee, and simple black work boots. She was also squatting in front of a fully restored, 1966 Pontiac GTO convertible, in a sleek, two-toned teal color with a subtle pearl finish to accent the clean, classic lines of Muscle Car Americana.

The girl was cute. I was hotter for the car, but I could see why Tara was feeling twisted up.

“Does that mean you’re not going to the opening?”

“Oh no, I’m going,” she assured me. “And I’m going to look fantastic and drop it like it’s hot with all the women who want a taste of my sweet cherry Chapstick.”

I took the glass of unsweetened tea that Sofia offered me, with the hand that didn’t gently shake Tara’s. Apparently having a boyfriend came with a new understanding of how relationships could work with all the complicated moving parts.

“You like her.”

For a moment, Tara was quiet, not denying or confirming, but then she huffed softly. “FYI, shrinks don’t like being shrinked, Sam,” she said, before she sighed again. “But you’re not wrong. You saw the girl. She’s hot. On top of that, she’s smart, sexy, and confident. She’s also a former Marine, who works on cars and motorcycles, and reads actual books. The paper kind, not e-books on a tablet. Which means she’s pretty awesome for anyone who is looking for a relationship. I wasn’t in that headspace at the time, and couldn’t switch gears fast enough, so it became an awkward, epic cluster of a mess. She was a little judgy about me dressing “too nice for a coffee date,” and I was more than a little defensive so I might have made a comment about not liking the scent of motor oil when I was trying to enjoy my croissant.”

Her face twisted in obvious frustration as I winced. “And all because I apparently forgot that it’s in my job description to be good at talking with people, and getting them to open up to me, no matter how reluctant they are initially. I was raised by southern parents who are sticklers for manners, so I can be delightful when I want to be. But not that day.” She sighed. “So, after some really awkwardly stilted conversation for about forty-five minutes—during which time we realized we had different visions for the afternoon—Sloane asked for the check while we still had coffee in our cups, and I had a chocolate croissant on my pate. Then, she paid for everything, and said she had to get to work.”

“Maybe she did?” Sofia offered as she sat with us as the counter, though even she sounded less positive at this point.

“If she hadn’t previously told me her afternoon was completely free when she’d initially invited me out for coffee, sure, that’d be a possibility.”

“Brutal,” I said.

“Ouch,” Sofia said.

Tara made a frustrated chuffing sound as she crinkled her two Twinkie wrappers. “Yeah…Ouch.”

“Maybe you should try talking to her again,” Sofia suggested. “Say something like, you weren’t at your best that day, and you’d like a second chance at real coffee this time.”

Tara looked at Sofia’s smiling, encouraging face like she’d suggested she drink cyanide, or dance naked in front of the queen of England.

I unwrapped another Twinkie, then waved it at Tara to get her attention. “You should just come to the club with Ben and I. We’ll play interference.”

“And be the dykey third wheel that turns your happy little gay bicycle into a tricycle? No thank you,” she said, taking a vicious bite out of the little cream filled sponge cake.

“A.J. plans on showing up after he handles a client dinner,” Sofia said. “I wanted to go too, but I’m not sure if I’ll be home in time from my shift at the hospital. I was trying to get someone to cover it for me, but it’s still up in the air. If the four of you go together though, you can be a quad.”

I grinned as Tara narrowed her eyes at Sofia. Sofia blew her a kiss.

“We’d need a toddler monkey backpack leash for him. That baby boy face, ginger hair, and sass are a catnip combo to the kind of men who’ll be haunting the dance floor.

"The offer still stands to hang out with Ben and me in a happy sandwich."

My suggestion got me the death stare from Tara.

"We'll see how happy you are when Ben prays for your junk to shrivel up. The man doesn't share well."

I grinned, then glanced at Sofia as she nudged me. “So, how is it going with Padre Santiago? You seem happy, and you’ve been texting with him nonstop, almost as much as Addie does with her friends. Girl friends.” A calming pat to my hand followed her words when I apparently made a face that threatened teenage boy homicide.

Mollified, I nodded, though now that the spotlight was on me, I felt self-conscious over the fact that Ben and I had indeed been acting like teenagers. Before he’d left for the youth retreat, I’d spent every night at his place. We’d made dinner together, watched some of those God-awful Sci-Fi movies he’d told me about, and necked like kids through them whenever I lost interest in the B-level acting, and decided to distract him. He was never that difficult to convince that a sexy escalation ranked higher than a storyline about a killer condom or enraged tomatoes. We’d switched so often and in so many ways, it was a miracle our dicks hadn’t fallen off from overuse and friction burns. My cheeks heated even thinking about it right now. Ben was fantastic in bed. However, the best part—which was something I’d take to my grave before willingly admitting it to the two pretty barracudas currently grinning at me like they could read my mind—was when we’d fall asleep in Ben’s bed, his chest lined up along my spine while the combined scent of sex, us, and the soft, clean fragrance of the sheets, wrapped around my senses as securely as the arm Ben always slung over my waist, with his hand splayed over my heart.

We’d texted back and forth the entire seven days that he’d been gone. Ben sent me memes and messages, most of them at night. Presumably, after he’d made sure that all the kids were settled in for the evening in their assigned tents. He’d also sent me a bunch of photos of him and the kids, including one of Addie playing her guitar and singing, with Cayden playing drum percussion on his knees. She was laughing and looked so happy, I’d immediately gotten it printed for the photo wall, which was now being prepped for the three collage frames Sofia and I’d picked out together, along with coordinating smaller frames for the photos we wanted to highlight. Addie had helped organize some of the photos we liked the most into piles when she’d been dropped off via church van yesterday by one of the adult volunteers.

"We’re doing good, but he has a lot of work to catch up on, so we won’t be seeing each other for another day or two.”

Something that Ben had apologized profusely for, until our rapid-fire texting had gone on long enough for me to finally reassure him that I understood, and was willing to wait until we could spend some time together on uninterrupted.

“Mmmm so you’ll be making up for lost time then?” Sofia’s playful tease matched the flirty new hair and clothing.

“Good luck with trying to get him to share anything, Sofia. He’s stingy with det—"

“And then some," I said, interrupting Tara. "Choir of angels singing all around."

"Hallelujah!"

Sofia and I grinned at each other like two fools when Tara made a rude sound of protest.

"Hey! Why does she get details when you shut me down?"

"She's my sister." I said, smiling when Sofia leaned over and hugged me hard for leaving off the in-law part. "She puts up with my ass living here, and eating her out of house and home, so she gets details."

"Los lazos de la amistad son los más estrechos que los de la sangre y la familia."

Tara looked to me for clarification of Sofia’s words.

"Um, the ribbons or bonds of friendship are narrower than those of blood and family?" Sometimes Spanish sayings were weird as hell and didn’t always translate to English well, but Sofia applauded my effort. Tara rolled her eyes.

"So, blood is thicker than water? Fantastic. If you want to talk body fluids, I can think of a few that are more interesting."

I snickered. "Sooo nasty when it’s been a whole four months since you got some."

"And you're a total butthead for throwing the fact you're getting tons, in my face, and not sharing the damn details! Sofia isn’t either.”

“And I thank God every day for that.”

Tara's wail turned into exasperated laughter as Sofia and I squished her slim body between us, covering her in hugs and noisy, playful kisses until she flipped us off.

"You both suck, just so you know."

Sofia smiled as she moved back to the grocery bags, tossing me the carton of orange juice I would inevitably look for as soon as she was done. "So, you and Father Ben are officially dating now?"

“Yeah, we are, though why does there need to be a label on everything all the time? We’re friends who—"

"Who like to fuck," Tara offered helpfully, though I’d been about to say, friends who are working towards a lot more.

I sighed when Sofia said, "No that was him and Max.”

“That’s old news. Ancient history.”

They both looked at me with matching Cheshire smiles when my protest came out in a grumbling growl as I got up to help Sofia with the remaining bags and look for anything of interest that would be an excuse out of this conversation.

"I think he's blushing," Tara crowed. "He's actually turning red. So cute. I wonder if Sam turns that color when Ben lays down the law and puts his... Oh, hello!"

It was her turn to flush the color of good tomatoes. As I looked between her and the door, I saw why. Emma was standing there with a Barbie doll in one hand, and a look of extreme interest in the conversation. Sofia made a strangled sound low in her throat, turning away when I hoisted Emma onto a stool so she was square in the center of the conversation like our personal cute chaperone.

"What are you, Mami, and Aunt Tara talking about, Uncle Sam?"

"Nothing, sweetheart. Aunt Tara was just telling me about an article she read on the lasting emotional damage done by adults being inappropriate in front of young children."

Tara flipped me the bird behind Emma's head as my youngest niece said, "Oh okay." There was a long pause, then, "Why's Father Ben laying down with you?"

***

After I'd spent twenty minutes convincing Emma that neither Ben nor I were laying anything down anywhere—a conversation Sofia and Tara had opted out of behind peals of laughter, and the safety of a locking bedroom door—I’d finally gotten my niece settled with a grilled cheese sandwich that I’d cut into heart shaped pieces with cookie cutters. Emma hated the crusts. I was shit at making cookies, but grilled cheese I could manage. Sofia had stolen the castoff edges on her way out the door before I could eat them, even though I’d packed a full lunch box for her shift. She’d winked at me, and I was happy enough that she’d found some of her old sass, that I still saved her a slice of leftover mushroom and sausage pizza for tomorrow’s lunch.

Adelyn and Cayden had come in together an hour or so past the time Tara and Sofia had left. After a teenage Cliff Notes version of where they’d been—Maplewood— and what they planned to do— “hang out”— they’d both disappeared to her room. Knowing Cayden was gay, and that I didn’t want my ears to be destroyed by the rock and metal bands they both liked to play at floor shaking decibels, I’d slackened the, ‘all-doors-must-be-kept-open-if-there’s-a-boy-in-the-room-unless-you-want-Uncle-Sam-to remove-said-door-from-the-hinges,’ rule. Emma had been settled with a Disney Princess marathon after I’d queued up the animated versions of Frozen, Beauty and the Best, and The Little Mermaid on her Netflix account with the parental controls locked in. I set her up with popcorn, and a just large enough scoop of strawberry ice cream in a bowl, to justify the entire small container of rainbow sprinkles that she dumped into it.

With everyone taken care of for a while, I went to my room to sit on the balcony at the bistro table, and texted Ben. Sofia hadn’t been wrong in saying I’d apparently temporarily reverted to my teenage incarnation considering how many messages we’d exchanged, and how long said messages were. It was definitely embarrassing on a certain level, but there was also a certain sense of simple normalcy about it that I liked. It was also a way to keep in contact with him while we were apart for the next few days. I’d never sexted before, but it was a strong possibility in the near future with Ben.

Sam: Emma’s up to her ears in princesses and sprinkles. Adelyn’s in her room with a boy, and the door’s closed. But since the boy is all about dicks, things are good.

There was a short pause, then Ben’s message popped up in response.

Ben: You’re evolving. Gay or not, it wasn’t that long ago that you’d have considered taking the door off the hinges.

Sam: That was one time, and the threat was enough. Doors are a luxury item for teenagers

Ben: Whereas locking doors are a requirement for boyfriends. Especially when they’re “praying.”😊

I felt my lips curve into a smirk which was for no one’s benefit but my own, since Ben couldn’t see it, and I didn’t know what emoji to use for a snarky response.

Sam: If by ‘boyfriend’s,’ you mean us, then absolutely. If you mean Addie’s future boyfriends, I’ll have you know that Cayden’s already mapped out all the best spots in the Glades for alligator sightings. He’s also onboard with being my alibi. He treats Addie like a little sister.

Ben: That doesn’t surprise me. He’s protective of the girls at Maplewood too. But shouldn’t we be talking about possible teenage boy genocide in some kind of code? Isn’t “Big Brother,” listening?

Sam: Have you ever watched the TV show, Person of Interest?

Ben: No. Is it good?

Sam: Jim Caviezel is hot, and I actually approve of most of the action sequences, especially in the first two seasons. But if you watch it, you’ll never want to have a verbal conversation anywhere again. Forget about using text and email. Then again, most of the operatives I ever met under different conditions, had kids, so we’d probably get a pass.

Ben: LOL… I wonder if those operatives are extra motivated to have sex with their partners after they’ve spent hours listening to other people’s conversations, especially hot monkey sex.

Sam: Developing selective hearing is a mandatory skill for intel gathering.

Ben: No wonder you get along with kids so well.

He added a silly face emoji with its tongue sticking out. For a moment, I got distracted from the conversation by that stupid emoji, because my brain decided to linger on thoughts of what Ben could do with his tongue, especially when I was trying to make dinner and he decided to test my multitasking skills by getting on his knees after he’d dropped my pants to my ankles.

Sam: Kids are easier to talk to than adults. They ask less questions.

Ben: Are you high?

I laughed out loud, then typed back.

Sam: I meant that they ask questions that are easier to answer without having to redact most of the truth to make the answer work. They ask what clouds are made of, and what the best ice cream flavor in the world is. I can handle that.

Ben: Such a big, brave, and FOOLISH man. I should make you join me for the next day event with the five to twelve-year-old youth group. Just the other day, Eli, one of our six-year-olds, informed me that some sea turtles breathe from their butts.

I grinned. It was the kind of off the wall comment Emma would’ve made, even though she was a year older. Animal Planet was always my preference if I had a choice between it, and Disney’s constant, manic happiness and light. Sometimes you just had a day where you were okay with watching a lion tear apart a gazelle stupid enough to walk in front of it. Circle of life and all.

Sam: Was he right, or just being a little smart-ass?

Ben: Oh, he was absolutely right. Granted, I had to look it up once I stopped laughing. It’s called cloacal respiration.

Sam: You learn something new every day.

Ben: Yup. And very often, it’s more than I want to know. Like when one of my five-year-olds, Lanie, told me that her daddy has a really big tail—which we aren’t even going to try and make sense of—and that her favorite drink is chocolate milk, while mommy prefers vodka.

I laughed again. Jesus Christ.

Sam: And these stories are supposed to make me want to hang out with these kids?

Ben: Are all those well-defined muscles making up for teeny weeny balls?

Sam: I’m happy to remind you exactly how big my balls are, and how hard they slap against your ass when I bottom out inside your body while you’re pressed up against me on your hands and knees, and we’re threatening the strength of your bed. But Big Brother would definitely be flipping me off if I started talking about that, or about the gaspy little sounds you make when you’re about to come your brains out. 😊

Look at me learning to use emojis.

Ben: LOL…Touche, Sam… Touche.

I leaned back in my chair after shifting it closer to the French doors to get out of the direct sunlight that was making me squint at my phone.

Sam: How’s it feel to be back after a week of teenage hormones in the wilderness?”

Ben: Like paperwork. Endless piles of it. I have to write sermons for five upcoming baptisms, and two weddings, just a few weeks apart. Spring through fall is all about brides and babies. That’s on top of the usual clerical things that I have to deal with daily.

Sam: I’ll let you get back to work then. I just wanted to say hi.

I almost gagged on my own tongue as I hit send before, I could rethink that message.

I just wanted to say hi? Shit and hell, Sam.

Maybe I needed to officially hire A.J. to write all my messages for me. Left unsupervised, I seemed to skate back and forth between dithering idiot, and awkward teenager. Ben however, seemed to feel that comment hit just the right note. Either that, or he just had mercy on me.

Ben: Hi. 😊

There was about a thirty second pause. Just long enough for me to consider enlisting the help of actual teenagers with this texting shit, even though that’d be stepping right into the overeager jaws of, “Hair and Metal,” as I’d mentally coined Addie and Cayden whenever they were together.

Ben: What are you doing tonight?

Sam: As of right now, I don’t have any plans.

Ben: You should come over to my place.

Sam: I thought you had things to do tonight.

Ben: I have to meet with one of the engaged couples and have a quick meeting with a new pastor. Then I have to visit one of my elderly parishioners who lost her husband a few months ago. I try to see her once a week to check in. She likes to talk, and we always play a few rounds of Rummy.

I smiled, because yeah, that was so Ben,

Ben: I want you to come over anyway. There’s a spare key under the flowerpot to the right of the back door on the deck. The one with the red flowers. I’ll text you the code to deactivate the alarm, and you can just let yourself in. Make yourself at home. You know where everything is. I don’t know what time I’ll be back, but I like the idea of you being all warm and half asleep in my bed for a little spooning action when I finally make it home.

Sam: Is ‘spooning,’ innuendo for that dirty monkey sex you mentioned earlier? Because if I’m asleep and you wake me up, it better be good.

Ben. I’m always good, baby. And no, I meant me, big spoon, and you, little spoon.

That was the way we normally fell asleep—even if we usually woke up in an assortment of positions—but I wanted to tease him a little.

Sam: I’m 6’2. You’re 5’9. Doesn’t that mean I get to be the big spoon?

Ben: My bed, my rules. Don’t size shame, Sam. The best things come in small packages.

Sam: Not really fast, expensive sports cars. Those come wrapped in a big red bow.

A series of angry faces were followed by the one with its tongue sticking out.

Ben: I’ll see you tonight. Pajamas are optional.

Sam: A.J. said we both need a pair of onesie PJs with a butt-flap.

Ben: A.J. is a very wise man. We’ll put it on our joint Christmas list. Now let me get back to work. The sooner I finish with my day, the sooner I can big spoon you, and tell you that I love you in person.

I blinked at that last message, then blinked again. When the words still didn’t change after the third hard blink, I exhaled slowly. Ben didn’t write anything else, so I assumed that had been his big sign off moment.

It wasn’t how I had expected him to drop that three-word bomb, but it sent a shock wave of warmth flooding through my system, melting every nerve ending that linked my head and heart. To be fair, Ben probably suspected that if he tried to say the words in person—as he had a few nights ago—I’d have put my selective hearing ears back on again. In black and white text, hiding from the truth wasn’t an option.

For almost a solid two minutes according to the digital time in the upper right corner of my phone screen, I wondered if I should respond. After another five minutes, I’d written and deleted a half dozen responses varying from, ’OK,’ to just a random emoji. At the ten-minute mark, I finally ended up sliding my phone into my pocket with no response sent and went downstairs to check on Emma.

My heart might match Ben’s sentiment, but my heart was threatening it at knifepoint, in the high-pitched, jovial voices of the puppets in Disney World’s, ‘It’s a Small World,’ ride, to stay in its own lane.

Little sons of bitches.