My baby boy, who I thought I’d never really see again, isback.
We sit in the living room to eat dinner, gathered around the coffee table, the TV on and playing an anime show from Crunchyroll that Lucas and Nolan both try to explain the plot of to me and Arlo.
Lucas sits on the floor next to where I’m sitting on the couch, and every so often he leans over like he used to when he was little and rests his head against my leg, and I ruffle his hair.
This is something I thought would never happen again. I’m damn close to crying happy tears.
Caine got permission from his parents to spend the night after talking to me on the phone. Okay, so I might have led them to believe he’d be staying in the guest room.
Like hell am I going to tell the boys they can’t share the same bed tonight. Tonight’s a celebration.
Would I feel this cavalier if they were the opposite sex?
Probably not.
Does that make me a hypocrite?
Probably.
Do I even care?
Tonight?
No fucks given.
Absolutelyzero.
* * * *
“Do you think Caine will come out to them soon?” Arlo softly asks once we’re locked behind our bedroom door.
The boys have put on music in Lucas’ room. K-pop, I think. Which makes my ears want to bleed, but that’s just me. It’s not loud enough to bother me, or for us to even hear with both bedroom doors closed.
Just like with the eyebrow piercing—yay, it’s fuckinggone—it’s not a battle worth fighting. Who even knows if Lucas has been able to listen to what he wanted to listen to while he was living with Bill?
This is probably the most freedom he’s had in two damn years.
“I don’t know,” I say. “When he does, that’s up to him. But we’ll be here for him.” I feel like our family is exploding in good ways, like a lush carpet of spring wildflowers blanketing a Yellowstone valley after a harsh winter’s thaw.
It’s beautiful.
“Let’s hope they’re not assholes,” Nolan mutters.
Nolan’s starting out in the middle tonight. I’m lying on his left, on my side and half draped over him, one leg thrown over his and my head tucked in the crook of his left shoulder.
On Nolan’s right side, Arlo lies on his left side and faces us, propped up on his left elbow and wearing a brilliant, playful grin.
I can’t claim I know exactly how happy today’s events have made my husband, but considering how I feel with Lucas once again living with us, I can easily imagine.
This is the culmination of nearly a quarter-century’s worth of dreams come true for him, having Nolan living with us.
That’s a reason to celebrate.
Nolan looks down at me, smirks, then looks over at Arlo. “Didn’t wear your ass out today, did we, old geezer?” Nolan teases.
That’s a running joke between them, because Nolan’s a year older than Arlo.
Arlo’s smile widens. He reaches over with his right arm, curls it around Nolan’s head, fists his hair, and leans in for a long, deep kiss that I can see hardens both of them. I love watching them together, the sometimes unrestrained passion between them. It’s sweetly raw and unrefined, a silent love language the two of them effortlessly speak with each other.
