Ben offers a soft nod and an unarticulated sigh, a testament to the profound peace settling within him. I pull him onto my lap, and he rests his head on my chest. He burrows into me, and I reach for the plush blanket he was using. The weight was a comforting anchor against my swirling thoughts.
Sometimes I wonder if we truly appreciate these moments. The stillness, the quiet, the simple act of being together, undisturbed by the clamor of the world.
Ben shifts in my lap, his breathing deepening. For just a moment, here with me, he’s a vessel of innocence, unburdened by all that he has experienced.
My gaze fixes on the flickering images on the screen, on the animated figures dancing through their whimsical narratives. My hand gently strokes Ben’s hair, each strand a filament of pure, untainted life. They sing of dreams. Of wishes granted, of happily ever after. And in these moments, I can almost believe it. I can almost believe that such simple, pure desires can manifest.
Ben stirs, his lips parting slightly. “Daddy?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.
“Yes, my sweet flower,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Daddy’s here.” I squeeze him a little tighter as his body relaxes into mine.
And it feels… it feels like everything is exactly as it should be. Not just for tonight, but for this moment, this tangible, breath-filled moment.
I close my eyes, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against mine. The Disney music seems to whisper secrets only the heart can understand. Secrets of connection, of belonging, and of love.
Chapter Nineteen
__________
Ben
Every time I’m in Jason’s house, my olfactory senses are in overdrive. Tonight, the scent of roasted garlic and herbs is already a warm hug, even before Jason pulls the chicken from the oven.
I lean against the kitchen counter, sipping my bottle of water, a contented sigh escaping me. "You know," I start, a goofy grin spreading across my face, "I think I'm officially addicted to your cooking."
Jason, ever the calm presence, chuckles, carefully transferring the golden-brown bird to a carving board. "Addicted is a strong word, Ben. Maybe just...enthusiastically appreciative."
"No, no, addicted is right," I insist, pushing off the counter and moving closer. "And it’s all your fault. This is the third incredible meal this week, and don't even get me started on the cookies you baked last night. My pants are starting to feel… a little snug."
He shoots me a playful look. "Are you talking about needing to loosen a button, or do you need to buy pants with an elastic waistband?"
I giggle and slap his biceps gently. "Definitely leaning towards elastic. Or maybe maternity.” I let out a genuine laugh before setting my drink down and wrapping my arms around him. “I wouldn't trade it for the world. Not one bite."
I kiss him between his shoulder blades before stepping back when Jason starts to carve the bird, the aroma intensifying, and I watch his hands, so steady and sure. It feels like a lifetime ago that we were navigating our awkward first date. Now, when I come over, it feels like coming home. It scares me how fast it happened.
Jason paused, a smile playing on his lips. "Is there anything you would change?”
"Maybe our first game night,” I tease.
“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad,” he says, setting the knife down and chuckling, turning to me.
“Really? I add, my eyes twinkling. "That Monopoly game nearly ended in a diplomatic incident."
"Hey, you know I still maintain that your real estate acquisition was borderline cheating," he counters good-naturedly.
"Seriously, though, this thing between us has been…easy. And good."
Jason serves up the chicken on two plates, along with seasoned green beans, and carries them over to the table that I already set. "Easy is good, Ben. Easy means we’re comfortable. We’re ourselves."
"It’s more than just easy, though," I say, taking a bite. The flavor exploded in my mouth. Seriously, how is he not a chef? "It's like… we've hit this beautiful stride. The movie marathons on the couch, the weekend excursions where you’ve been showing me around, that quirky little arcade downtown, even just sitting here, talking over a quiet dinner. It all just…fits."
"I feel it too. Even when a movie isn't quite what we expected." He looks at me over the rim of his iced tea.
"Ugh, that documentary on butterflies was truly terrible!" I exclaim, my fork hovering over another bite."
“It wasn’t my fault. You picked it.” He tells me, setting his glass down, meeting my gaze. His eyes are warm and filled with genuine affection.
Wiping my mouth on my napkin, I offer him a grin. “The trailer looked good. I didn’t realize half of them wouldn’t make it during migration. It was sad. Talk about a mood killer.”
