“Oh.” He bites his lip and his blush deepens. “I think I’d like that.”
I want to pull that lip out from between his teeth and kiss it, but Owen comes barreling between us, wrapping his arms around his dad’s waist. “Can we eat now? I want a hot dog.”
“You have to have veggies with it. Maybe some of the nice salad Gabe brought, too.”
Owen scrunches his nose. “Salad?”
“It’s got lots of the things you like in it,” Justin tries to placate him.
I can see the little guy is not convinced, so I cut in with, “You can always try it and, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.” I lock eyes with Justin, hoping I haven’t overstepped. “If your dad says that’s okay.”
Justin nods. “If you don’t like it, you can just have some extra carrot sticks and cucumber.”
“And I’ll sneak you some of my potato salad,” Marshall tells him in an exaggerated hushed whisper. “It’s my favorite, but I’ll share if you don’t tell anyone.”
Owen giggles and nods. Justin helps him onto his seat and loads up his plate with a hotdog, a tiny bit of the salad I brought, and some of the veggie sticks he cut up especially for Owen. Marshall makes a show of looking left and right before ‘sneaking’ a small serving of potato salad onto his plate as well.
The little guy eats as we all load up our own plates, and Justin praises him for eating every last bite of his meal when he finishes.
“My tummy’s full,” he declares.
“Too full for pie?” Noah asks. “Izzy broughtchocolatepie.”
The kid’s eyes go wide as saucers, and he looks at his dad. “Can I have a little bit?” He holds up his hand, pinching his index finger and thumb together. “Just a teeny, tiny bit? Please?”
There’s a glint in Justin’s eye —something mischievous and adorable— when he smiles and answers, “Just a little bit. Don’t want to sugar you uptoomuch for Grandpa and Grandma.”
***
“Alone at last,” Justin declares, flopping down on the couch beside me.
I try not to take it too personally that he ushered Owen out the front door when the kid’s maternal grandparents pulled into the driveway. I get the feeling he’s putting off introducing me to them, but I can understand why that would be the case. We haven’t been dating very long, for one thing, and for another, they might not know that he’s bi. With everything else going on in his life, I’m not going to push him to complicate it further by introducing me until he’s ready.
Still, as he slumps into his seat at my side, I can feel tension radiating off him, and he looks more exhausted than he did five minutes ago.
“What would you like to do now that we’ve got the place to ourselves?” I ask, then quickly follow up with, “I know that part of our dynamic involves me making decisions for you, but I can tell you’re on edge right now, so I’ll give you threechoices. One — I can go and get the Little things I bought, and we can give you some real Little time. No set scenes, just…getting used to letting yourself regress in whatever way makes you the most comfortable. Two — we can put on a movie, grab a couple of beers and just snuggle here on the couch. Three — we can go and soak in your tub together and see where that takes us.” I finish with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle, and it gets me the chuckle I was hoping for.
“I…” Justin swallows and blushes. “Can…can I see what you bought me? Please, Daddy?”
My heart soars.
Less than two minutes later, we’re both sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet as he unpacks the duffel bag I brought in from the car.
“Oh, this is so soft,” he muses, fingering the material of the short-sleeved romper I ordered him. It is pale blue cotton and covered in a motif of cartoon penguins playing sports.
“I can help you get dressed into it later if you’d like.”
I’m addicted to his blushing and the shy smiles he gives me. This time is no exception. “I’d like that.” He looks back inside the bag and the pink of his cheeks darkens as he pulls out the matching training pants. “Oh.”
“Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?” I ask. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
His hand moves to his crotch, and he pushes down with his palm as he answers. “Um, good. It…it’s exciting.” He frowns. “Is that weird?”
“Nope, totally normal.” I grin. “I’m getting excited, too, sweetheart.”
His gaze flickers to the bulge in my jeans and he grins, even though he’s still blushing. Then he pulls out the spare pairs oftraining pants and the additional rompers, all in various cartoon designs. “Wow, this is a lot.”
I shrug. “Between play time and accidents, little boys can get messy. I like having spares.”
