MYLES
TEN
I wake to the soft breaths of Tristan beside me. His bare chest rises and falls, peaceful in sleep. I feel no panic as I watch him… only contentment. Cara would want my happiness. And Tristan makes me happy.
Tristan stirs in my arms, his breath warm against my neck. I run my fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his forehead. His eyes flutter open, meeting mine. Vulnerability flickers across his face, and my heart twists.
"Hey," I say softly.
He tenses. "Hey."
I cup his cheek. "You okay?"
He hesitates. "Yeah, I just... wasn't sure how you'd feel. About this. In the morning."
My thumb strokes his stubbled jaw, then his lips. "Stay with me."
Tristan searches my gaze. "You sure?" His voice is small, vulnerable.
"I'm sure."
I pull him against me. His body melts into mine, all hard muscle and warm skin. He nuzzles into my neck, his breaths tickling.
"This okay?" he asks.
"Very okay." I kiss his hair, inhaling his scent. He nuzzles into me even further, some of the tension leaving his body.
We trade lazy kisses as pale light filters into the room.
His hands roam my back, my sides, relearning me.
I revel in his touch, the solid warmth of him.
We lie tangled together, and Tristan's touch gentles me.
His lips graze my collarbone, my jaw, my mouth.
Soft. Unhurried. Like we have all the time in the world.
When his stomach rumbles, I grin. "Breakfast?"
"Please."
We cook together in an easy rhythm, stealing glances and touches. Domestic. Right. After, he helps me straighten up before my in-laws drop Phoenix off.
And then it dawns on me how risky my behavior has been in the last 24 hours.
My in-laws could have come back early with Phoenix or my son could have just walked into the apartment without knocking, given that he lives here.
He could have seen Tristan and me together in a compromising situation.
The thought is unsettling. I was so wrapped up in my grief, and then wrapped up with Tristan, that I probably narrowly avoided a very difficult, if not uncomfortable scenario.
"I should probably head out before they get here," he says regretfully.
I nod, hating to see him go but knowing he's right. "Come back later? Spend the day together?"
His smile lights up his face. "Absolutely."
One last searing kiss and he's out the door. I touch my tingling lips, heart full. I can't wait to see where this unexpected gift takes us next.
I hear the knock on the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.
George and Cynthia stand there with Phoenix.
Their matching outfits are a testament to their enduring connection.
George, dressed in a well-fitted suit with a colorful pocket square, is the perfect complement to Cynthia's floral dress.
As I observe them, I can't help but feel that their partnership has always been about balance and harmony. But there are lines on their faces now that weren’t there a year ago.
"Hey, buddy," I say, lightly squeezing my son’s shoulder.
He gives me a smile. "Hi, Dad."
I thank my in-laws and exchange some small talk before they leave. Kneeling, I study my son’s face. There's a sadness in his eyes that tugs at my heart.
"How was it?" I ask gently.
He shrugs. "Okay, I guess."
"Did you have fun with Grandma and Grandpa?"
"A little." He scuffs his shoe on the floor. "I miss Mom."
I pull him into a hug. "I know, buddy. I miss her too." I swallow past the lump in my throat. "But she'll always be with us, in our hearts. And she'd want us to keep living and being happy. Right?"
He nods against my shoulder. I squeeze him tighter, then pull back.
"Hey, guess who's coming over today?
“Who?”
“Tristan!"
At this, his face lights up. "Really? Yes!" He jumps up and down. "Can we go to the arcade?"
I laugh. "I think that can be arranged."
Right on cue, a knock sounds at the door. Phoenix races over, throwing it open to reveal Tristan standing there grinning, three arcade passes in hand.
"Hey buddy, ready to get your game on?"
Phoenix cheers, grabbing the passes. As we head out, I drink in their laughter.
Tristan's obviously a little nervous given the magnitude of this day, but I can see he’s making a sincere effort to keep things light and happy for my son.
My heart swells at this new dynamic between us. Unexpected, but so very right.
Hours later, we return home exhausted but happy. Phoenix is chattering a mile a minute about all the games he played and tickets he won. As we step inside the apartment, he lets out a huge yawn.
I ruffle his hair. "I think it's bedtime for you, mister."
"But I'm not tired," he protests, even as his eyes droop.
"Sure you're not." I steer him toward his room. "Pajamas on and teeth brushed. I'll be there to tuck you in soon."
He trudges off down the hall. I turn to Tristan who’s lingering in the doorway.
"Thanks again for today," I say softly. "You were great with him."
Tristan rubs the back of his neck. "No problem. I had fun."
We stare at each other for a moment, the air suddenly charged between us. I step closer, my hand coming up to grasp his shirt, pulling him toward me. Our lips meet in a heated kiss that steals my breath.
When we break apart, panting, Tristan rests his forehead against mine. "God, Myles, you make me… feel," he whispers.
My throat goes dry as I wait for him to make the next move.
With visible effort, he takes a step back. "I should head home. Early shift tomorrow."
Disappointment wells within me, but I know it's for the best. This thing between us is still so new, so fragile. "Text me when you're off work," I tell him. "We'll get dinner or something."
He leans down and brushes a soft kiss over my lips. "Goodnight, Myles."
"Goodnight, Tristan." I watch him walk away before closing the door.
I inhale sharply, every muscle in my body tensed as I walk toward my son's bedroom to tuck him in.
The air is suddenly thick and oppressive, the weight of guilt pushing down on me like an avalanche.
How could I have possibly considered finding solace in someone else's touch, in their kisses?
Sought sexual gratification from someone else?
Felt joy on the anniversary of Cara's passing?
I let out a strangled sigh. Guilt and joy.
How do I reconcile these two conflicting emotions?