Whenever those nightmare futures creep in, I wake with my wife in my arms and assure myself that it isn't real. I pull her closer when my fear is telling me to pull away. I fight panic with love and logic. I talk myself down, determined not to let my fear rule me ever again.
It's like a muscle you have to exercise, and I've made it incredibly strong over these last years.
God himself couldn't tear me away from my family now. He could try, and he would fail.
Smiling at that thought, I load the burgers and steaks on a platter and do a quick detour to the pool to direct the kids inside to eat.
Liam's sitting on the edge, feet dangling in the water. He has his arm wrapped around Birdie, who clings tightly to his side. Some kids float in the water, others stand by the shallow end, and a few sit on the edge, tossing an inflatable basketball back and forth. His friends all seem to orbit around Liam, who is the glue holding them together.
When I get closer, I catch some words that I don't like.
"So, Mr. Durant's definitely hitting that every night, right?" Liam's little shithead blonde friend Mark says from next to Liam, leering at my wife with beady little eyes that I want to pluck out of his head.
His words boil my blood, and my hands tighten on the food in my hand, and I'm tempted to crack it over his skull.
He's eighteen, right? I won't go to jail for that—or maybe I could have a few words with his dad...
"Shit, I would be," he laughs, holding his hand out for Matty to high-five, who just rolls his eyes.
"Hey," Liam snaps, glaring at Mark over Birdie's head. "Watch it. That's my mom."
"And? Your mom's hot and your dad's lucky," Mark says, waving at Wendy, who smiles and waves back, always friendly. I make my presence known, clearing my throat. Mark jumps clear in the air and slowly turns to meet my eyes.
I smile ferally. "Food's ready. Go grab a plate."
All of them jump up; Liam helps Birdie stand and wraps her in a towel.
All the other kids follow suit, but when Mark tries to pass, I just keep smiling and slap my hand down on Mark's shoulder a little hard, to be friendly.
"Uh, hey, Mr. Durant," Mark stutters, trying to shrink away. "Er—the food smells great."
"Thanks, Mark," I say, before leaning closer to his ear. "You ever talk about my wife like that again, and I'll forget you're my son's friend, got it?"
He nods so hard it looks like he's trying to shake his head from his neck. "Yes, sir."
"Good," I say, clapping his shoulder once more. "Go."
I watch as he races into the house, stumbling a few times as he glances back at me. Well, at least we won't have to see him much, if ever, after this.
Liam's going to experience the freedom of adulthood soon, he's going to make new friends at school, and he's going to stumble and have to pick himself back up.
He's going to make mistakes, learn lessons, and make more mistakes.
And I will always be here to catch him when he falls, put him back on his feet, and encourage him to keep going.
I walk into the house, where the noise levels are reaching an all-time high: my son and his friends talking all at once, music playing from the living room speakers, adults yelling instructions over each other.
The chaos feels like a warm hug, and my mom rushes over to take the plate from me, thanking me for grilling.
As I stand back and survey it all, I hear a sweet voice from behind.
"Everything okay, honey?"
Turning to Wendy, who's walking over to me with her hand cradling her bump, I hold my arms out for her. She smiles and walks right into my embrace.
Wrapping one arm around her and pulling her close to me, I press a kiss to her temple as my other hand palms her belly, feeling my active baby girl kicking against my hand.
"Everything's perfect, baby," I murmur against her temple and press another kiss there. "Absolutely perfect."
