To find out if what we built—through love, through parenting, through challenge—is still worth saving. We’re not the couple we were when we started. We want to know if we can be a new kind of team.
Ray exhaled. “Okay. Maybe don’t put that whole thing. Just write: ‘Middle-aged gay dads on a redemption arc. Plus, we look great in matching travel outfits.’”
I smiled, then saved the answers. “We’ll send the video next. Leo’s gonna have a field day with this.”
Leo returned from college the following weekend with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, a hard-sided case full of video equipment and the relaxed confidence of a college student with the world ahead of him. I watched from the kitchen as Raymet him at the door, their hug revealing both the easy physical affection they’d always shared and the extra inch Leo now had on his dad.
“Hey, Pop,” Leo called, spotting me by the coffee maker. “Made any for me?”
“As if I’d forget,” I said, sliding an FSU mug his way, fresh steam rising from its surface. “Three sugars, splash of cream.”
Leo took a grateful sip and plopped down at the kitchen island. “Are you guys ready to start filming the Big Race video?”
The nausea churning in my stomach as I prepared for our audition video reminded me of the call I’d gotten from my cousin Sally nearly fifteen years before. Sally’s brother and sister-in-law had been killed in a car crash, leaving their five-year-old son. She thought Ray and I were the best able to adopt him, and after much discussion, and meeting him in Philadelphia, we’d agreed.
On his last night in Philadelphia, we brought Leo to our hotel room and set him up in the bed next to us. After he’d gone to sleep, I said, “We’re going to have to make some big changes.”
“For our son? We’ll do whatever we can.”
I looked at Ray, his face soft in the dim light of the hotel room, and felt a wave of love for this man who was so quick to open his heart, to say “our son” when Leo had been in our lives for barely seventy-two hours.
“You’re really ready for this,” I said.
“More than I’ve ever been ready for anything.” He squeezed my hand. “We’re going to be great at this, Jeffrey. All three of us, figuring it out together.”
And for a long time, we were. Those first years with Leo reshaped our relationship, giving us a shared purpose that transcended our differences.
Having Leo made us better versions of ourselves, more rounded and complete. It also bound us together in ways we couldn’t have imagined. Every milestone—Leo’s first day ofmiddle school, his first solo bike ride to a friend’s house, his first school dance—was something we shared, markers in our family story.
But somewhere along the way, being Leo’s dads began to overshadow being each other’s partners. Our conversations revolved around Leo’s schedule, Leo’s needs, Leo’s future. When we disagreed, it was usually about Leo—Ray thinking I was overprotective, me feeling Ray pushed too hard.
By the time Leo left for college, we’d grown so accustomed to orienting our lives around him that his absence left a void we didn’t know how to fill.
Ray and I exchanged glances. We’d rehearsed this conversation all week, but now that the moment had arrived, neither of us seemed eager to begin.
“We have something important to tell you,” I said finally.
Leo’s eyes darted between us, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern. “Is someone sick? Did something happen with Grandma?”
“No, nothing like that,” Ray said quickly. “Everyone’s healthy.”
“Then what’s with the funeral faces?” Leo set his mug down. “You guys are freaking me out.”
Ray took a deep breath. “Leo, I did something... something I’m not proud of.” His voice wavered slightly. “I had an affair.”
The words landed in the sunny kitchen like stones. Leo’s face went blank with shock, his eyes widening as he processed what he’d just heard.
“An affair,” he repeated, the word sounding foreign in his mouth. “Like, you cheated on Pop?”
Ray nodded, unable to meet his eyes.
Leo turned to me. “And you knew? For how long?”
“Three months,” I said quietly. “I found out three months ago. It was already over by then.”
“Over.” Leo’s voice was flat. He pushed away from the counter and stood up, running his hands through his dark curls—a gesture so like Ray’s that it made my heart ache. “So why are you telling me now? Is this... are you guys getting divorced?”
“We don’t know yet,” I admitted. “We’ve been seeing a therapist, trying to work through things. If we apply for the race, we have to make that clear.”
