“Do you know why we’re in a fight?” I ask primly.
Setting his mug on the counter and mirroring my stance, he smirks. “Not exactly.”
“Let me ask you a question. Did you really not want to sleep here last night?”
He looks like he’s been caught with his hand on the Grindr button. “No… I mean yes? What was the question?”
“Did you want to sleep here last night?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“Hmm. And did you purposefully wait until I was asleep to leave?”
He bites his bottom lip like that Steve Carrell meme, and I tap my foot, waiting for an answer. “Y-yes?”
“Is that a question?”
“No. I mean, yes, I waited until you fell asleep. I didn’t want it to get awkward.”
“So, you wanted to sleep here last night, but didn’t, and you waited till I fell asleep so that you could force yourself to leave against your will… without awkwardness.”
He’s following my line of thought with one eye closed, chewing on his lip in concentration. “Correct.”
“Do you think that was appropriate, given the emotional content of our conversations yesterday and last night, to deny yourself the comfort you so clearly need?”
“I-uh… no?”
“Well, now you know what we’re fighting about,” I say, picking up my mug for another sip of delicious, delicious hot brew.
“I’m… sorry? For not letting you comfort me?”
“Is that apology a question or a statement?”
“I—statement,” he says, then nods to himself in agreement with himself.
“Okay then. Next subject. Was this an ‘any port in the storm’ moment, or do you really want something more meaningful, more lasting?”
“Who says a port in the storm moment can’t be meaningful?”
“Fair point, but I’d still like an answer to the question.”
That little cheeky grin of his slides across his face. “I’ll answer your question with another question. Are you always this bossy? Should I call you Daddy?”
“To answer you first question, I’m a pushover unless it’s really important—just ask my girls. To answer your second question, they’re the only ones who call me Daddy, so my brain would break if you tried using that in bed. Just… no. And don’t think I haven’t noticed your nonanswer.”
I watch as his chest rises and falls as he grapples with the self-inflicted slings and arrows of his mind. He wraps his arms around his chest and bounces on his heels. Finally, the words come. “I want a lasting port in the storm. With you, if I can have it.”
I bite back a smile and pin him with a Very Serious Look. “Are you willing to promise to try to communicate what is going on with you before you scurry off in the middle of the night?”
He hugs himself harder, rocking back and forth. “Yes.”
I open an arm to him, and he tucks into my side, like he was always meant to be there. “Then I want to be your port in the storm, and I want you to be mine.”
Rubbing my belly, he looks up me, his eyes bright with happiness. “Does that make us boyfriends?”
Finally, the smile breaks across my face. “Yep.”
Looking anything but innocent, he fake-shyly asks, “So… I should probably delete my hookup apps, huh?”
