"He came up with that on his own," Reese says quietly. "We've never encouraged it."
"That will be important to establish." Patricia makes a note. "Logan, how long have you and Reese been together?"
"About six months." It sounds so brief when I say it out loud, though it feels like much longer.
"And living together?"
"We're not officially living together," I clarify. "But Reese stays over often when I have Tyler."
"Understood." More notes. "Here's what I recommend. First, we need to be strategic about Tyler's language around parental roles. While we don't want to confuse him or make him feel he's done something wrong, you might want to gently guide him toward referring to Reese by her name rather than 'bonus mommy.'"
Reese nods, her expression pained.
"Second, I'd suggest being careful about social media. Not hiding your relationship, but perhaps less emphasis on the family unit imagery until this is resolved."
I hate this already—having to second-guess everything, to strategize our lives as if we're doing something wrong.
"Finally," Patricia continues, "I need to ask a difficult question. Reese, are you prepared for this? Family court can be invasive. Your personal life and career, your relationship with Tyler, your interactions with Jessica—all of it could be scrutinized."
Reese sits straighter, her chin lifting slightly. "I'm prepared. I care about Tyler, and I care about Logan. I'm not going anywhere unless that's what's best for everyone."
Patricia studies her through the screen, then nods once. "Good. You'll need that resolve." She looks at her watch. "I need to go, but my paralegal will send over the paperwork first thing tomorrow. Review it, call with any questions, and we'll discuss next steps."
After we end the call, neither of us knows what to say. The dishwasher hums in the background. Somewhere down below the building, a siren wails. Reese's notepad is covered with her neat handwriting—terms, questions, bullet points.
"Well," I finally say, "Happy fucking New Year to us."
It's not funny, but Reese laughs anyway, the sound fragile and slightly hysterical. "At least we're starting the year with low expectations. Only up from here."
I turn to face her fully. "I meant what I said. We’re going to fight this and we’re going to win." I take both her hands in mine. "But I need to know you're really okay with it. This could get ugly. Jessica won't back down easily."
Reese meets my eyes, her jaw set tight even though I can see she's scared. "I'm all in, Logan. I told you that last night, and I meant it. I love you. I love Tyler."
"It's a lot to take on." I say.
"Is it? I’ve known since you learned about him that you were a package deal." She squeezes my hands. "This isn't just about us. It's about Tyler too."
"It's going to be hard on him."
"Then we make sure he knows he's loved. By all the adults in his life." Her voice softens. "He doesn't need to understand the legal stuff or the grown-up conflicts. He just needs to feel safe and loved."
I study her face—there is both intensity and kindness in her eyes.
"I wish I could protect you both from this," I admit. "From Jessica's anger, from courts and lawyers and all of it."
"You can't. But we can face it together." She leans forward, presses her forehead to mine. "This is worth it. This is worth fighting for."
I close my eyes, feeling her breath on my face, the warmth of her hands in mine. Until a few months ago, I didn't know I had a son. I’m still so new at learning how to be a father. I’m so in love with this woman. This whole situation is nuts but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
"Together," I agree, the word a promise.
In his room down the hall, Tyler sleeps peacefully, dinosaurs standing guard. Tomorrow will bring paperwork and strategies and difficult conversations.
Chapter 20
Reese
I've been trying to review my kids’ latest projects, but the constant notifications are killing me. Another buzz. Another ping. I finally cave and pick up the device, expecting more texts from Logan about the custody situation. Instead, my stomach drops. A headline from Chicago Sports Daily screams up at me: "McCoy's Latest Squeeze: Kindergarten Teacher Playing Mommy to Hockey Star's Secret Son."
