Yeah, I’m all in, trouble.
Rhys tugs on Faye’s sleeve, oblivious to the anticipation running between us. “Are you here to see the docks too? Isn’t it so cool that Dad fixed everything after the storm? They look brand new!”
“Very cool,” Faye agrees. She smiles and smooths Rhys’s hair back from his forehead with a tenderness that makes my throat tight. She glances at me and adds, “Your dad is surprisingly good with his hands.”
I cough.
“With tools,” she blurts, her cheeks flushing. “That’s what I was saying.”
“Yeah, that’s clearly what you meant.” I wink at her.
Her face goes pinker.
Rhys grins up at us. “He’s good at lots of stuff. He can rope a calf in under ten seconds, and he makes the best pancakes, and he helped Uncle Remy deliver a baby goat last week, and?—”
Faye is still flustered. I take pity on her and crouch beside my son. “I think Miss Rose gets the picture.” I meet Faye’s eyes one more time before turning my full attention to Rhys. “Hey, bud. We need to talk to you about something important.”
Two days ago, Faye and I drove to Osage Beach to see Dr. Agard together. She walked us through what sharing our relationship with Rhys might look like. The questions he could ask. The reassurances he’d need.
Now his face scrunches in concentration as if he’s trying to figure out if this is good important or bad important. “Okay…”
“Remember when we talked with Dr. Agard about how sometimes grown-ups become really good friends?” I glance up at Faye. “And how those friendships may turn into something more?”
Rhys looks between us.
Then his eyes go wide.
“Are you talking about Miss Rose being your special friend?”
“Yeah, Rhys. Would that be okay with you?”
He’s quiet as he stares down at the dock boards.
My heart hammers against my ribs. This is the moment that could go a hundred different ways, most of them complicated. Most of them?—
He looks at her now. “So does that mean you’re going to be my mom?”
Faye drops to her knees in front of Rhys, taking his small hands in hers. Her eyes are shiny. “I care about you very much, Rhys. And you can call me however you want, but your mom will always be your mom, even if she’s not with you.”
Rhys nods, his face serious. He looks at her with an expression far too old for eight.
“I don’t remember my mom much,” he says quietly. “Just the pictures Dad showed me. But I remember you. How you always told us it was okay to make mistakes and try again. And how you made voices when reading stories. You still smell like books and flowers. I would love for you to be my mom.”
Faye pulls him into her arms, holding him tight as a tear spills over the corner of her eye. “I would be honored to love you like a mother, Rhys. So honored.”
Each day that passes, I love her more. I’ve never loved her more than in this moment. And tomorrow, I’ll love her more still.
Rhys squeezes back, his face buried in her shoulder. “Does this mean you’re moving in with us?”
She laughs, watery and bright. “Not yet. We went to see Dr. Agard, and she suggested we do things gradually, take our time, so it comes naturally. But if it’s okay with you, we’ll do sleepovers. I’ll come for dinner. We’ll spend more time together. And when it feels right, then yeah—I’ll move in.”
“I love sleepovers!” He pulls back, grinning now. “Can we have movie nights, too?”
“Yes, for sure.” She wipes at her eyes, still smiling. “And how would you feel about going on a vacation together? The three of us?”
“Yes!” He jumps, fists punching the air. “Yes, yes, yes! Where are we going? Can we go to Disney World? Or the beach? Or—ooh, can we go see real dinosaurs?”
“Dinosaurs are extinct, buddy,” I say.
