Steph
Okay, let’s do it
Riley
Does that mean what I think it does?
Steph
Fortune favors thebrave, right?
Riley
Don’t think I don’t appreciate how scary this is for you. It'll be alright.
Thank you, Sunshine <3
TheknockcomesasI’m reaching to level the art on the living room wall which I’ve only just noticed is hanging crookedly. Sucking in a sharp breath, I spin around to face my boys, eyes going wide. I point anxiously at Alex and then Matt, who’ve both been watching me putter around and adjust things that don’t actually need adjusting from the couch with amusement.
He’s here.
“Relax, Mom,” Matty says with an indulgent smile. “We already promised to be nice to the guy.” Alex rolls his eyes but nods in agreement.
Today, Riley is coming for dinner. Actually, he’scookingus dinner, determined to show off the supposed kitchen skills I’ve been hearing about for months now. The visit is long overdue, and I’m a bundle of nerves. A lot is riding on this. What happens today will likely set the tone for things moving forward, and hopefully,when the time comes for us to reveal our secret to the boys, it’ll ease the transition and cushion their shock because they’ll already have gotten to know and accept him.
I move towards the door, shaking my hands at my sides in an effort to dispel some of my jittery energy. Straightening my shoulders, I plaster on a smile as I open it, only to have it fade, and my breath catch in my throat as I take him in. My eyes rove greedily over his tall form, from the top down and then back up again, more slowly this time so I might savor it—steal for myself this small moment of pleasure before the stress of this day sets in once more. I note he’s replaced his usual worn boots with a new pair of dark sneakers, then follow the long lines of his legs up to thick thighs I feel certain will strain deliciously against his dark jeans when he walks. Rising further still, I take in the simple cream Henley, the sleeves pulled up—an intentional choice, no doubt—to reveal strong, tattooed forearms that I never can seem to get enough of. Soft fabric fits snuggly over firm biceps, broad shoulders, and conforms to his muscular chest in a way that has my hands itching to run them all over it. He’s left the buttons open at his throat, revealing a hint of dark hair and still more of the colorful markings hidden beneath. I lick my lips as I finally meet his eyes … but what I see there has my heated body cooling in an instant as I suddenly remember why he’s here.
Right.
Riley offers me a slightly awkward smile, anxiety warring with determination on his handsome face. Ironically, the sight of itserves to settle some of my own nerves as he leans in and gives me a quick peck on the lips. He has as much riding on this as I do—probably even more so as he’s desperate to make up for the lost time with his son.
“Hi, Sunshine,” he whispers, glancing over my shoulder in search of my sons.
“Come on in,” I say. “They’re in the living room.”
I get another quick kiss once he’s crossed the threshold, and gesture for him to follow me down the hall, unable to resist the quiet giggle that spills from me when he breathes deep and squares his shoulders, mirroring my own actions only minutes before.
The boys get to their feet when we join them, and I make re-introductions. Pride swells as Matty steps forward and extends a hand, but it’s followed swiftly by a barrage of other emotions as I watch father and son shake for the first time. There’s joy … and hope,for what they might become in the future, but there’s also shame for having kept this secret for so long—for having kept them apart. And then there’s grief. Sadness. A longing for what might have been. Whatcouldhave been if things had been different. Lastly, as always, there’s the fear. The one overarching emotion that continues to overshadow my—our—second chance at love. At happiness.
Riley stares down at Matt with a slightly awed expression, holding onto his hand for longer than is strictly appropriate. Myson clears his throat as he deftly extricates himself from the hold and gestures at the bags in Riley’s other hand.
“Watcha got there?”
Riley blushes, slightly flustered, and my chest warms. “Oh, uh, I come bearing gifts.” He chuckles, holding up the bags and passing one to Matt. “It’s for both of you. And this,” he turns to me, pulling a gorgeous bouquet from another bag, “is for you.” It’s a delicate assortment of ranunculus, cosmos, and sweet peas, paired with sprigs of greenery.
“Oh,” I breathe, accepting the arrangement and bringing it up to my nose to take in the fresh floral scent. “You remembered.”
“Course,” he smiles softly. “You love ranunculus.”
“Never had much luck growing them.”
He huffs an amused breath. “I remember that, too.”
Alex snorts, reminding us we have an audience. “You don’t garden,” he says, sounding almost accusatory.
“I used to,” I counter, keeping my voice light. “When I had the time.”
“Your mother kept your grandparents’ yard in tip-top shape back in the day. She would cut fresh flowers for their table every week in the spring and summer.”
