The spatula stopped.
Freddie didn't look up. He was colouring the whale's hat with a purple felt-tip, the same purple he'd used for BRAVE, and the question had been asked with the same matter-of-fact tone he used for _can I have more juice_ and _is cereal a vegetable_.
'Why do you ask?'
'Because I heard Mum say something to Owen. She didn't know I was listening.' He coloured the whale's hat darker at the brim. 'She said: _Neil needed someone who makes him happy. I think he's found them._'
The eggs were burning. Neil turned the heat down. Rescued them. His hands were steady, steadier than he'd expected.
'And then at the party,' Freddie continued, still colouring, 'you were weird around Mr Cavanaugh.'
'I wasn't weird.'
'You WERE weird, Dad. You kept looking at him. You stood near him. And you looked...' He searched for the word. Found it. 'You looked like when you take your shoes off after school. Like you stopped trying.'
'Stopped trying.'
'Yeah. And Mum said you were blooming. She said it to Owen and Owen laughed and said something about you getting some or something, and she hit him with a tea towel.' He looked up. 'So I thought: the one who makes Dad happy is Mr Cavanaugh. And I was right, wasn't I?'
'You didn't tell me,' Freddie said. Patient, not hurt. 'You didn't tell me you were friends. And I was wondering.'
A child who'd been carrying a theory for weeks and waiting for his father to confirm it.
Neil turned off the hob. Came to the table. Sat down across from his son. Freddie's face was open and waiting and had no fear in it, because nobody had taught him that this was something to fear.
'We aren't just friends. Rory is my partner,' Neil said.
The word came out clean. No fumbling, no circling.
'What's a partner? Like Batman and Robin?'
'A partner is... someone you choose. Someone you want to be with. Not just for a bit. For the long part.'
'Like Mum and Owen?'
'Like Mum and Owen. Yes.'
'But Mr Cavanaugh... he's a man.'
'Yes. And yes.'
'Boys can be partners with boys?'
'Anyone can be partners. A man and a woman. Two men. Two women.'
'Like you and Mr Cavanaugh.'
'Like me and Rory.'
'Is that why he painted me Spider-Man?'
'Yes. But he would've done it anyway. He's fond of you.'
He frowned. He picked up the purple felt-tip. Put it down. Picked up the green.
'Does Mr Cavanaugh like whales?'
'I think Rory likes most things.'
