28. Myles
TWENTY-EIGHT
MYLES
The summer months flew past as if they were an eagle soaring through the sky.
Sometimes I pinch myself, still unable to believe this is my life now.
After losing Cara, I was convinced happiness was a cruel joke.
Now, here I am, living the dream with Tristan and our son, Nix.
Tristan's work kept us from celebrating the Fourth of July on the proper day, but he wasn't about to let that ruin our holiday.
"We can have our own Fourth of July party," he announced, grinning like a kid.
"Alright, you rebels," I say, chuckling as we all don red, white, and blue shorts and shirts. Nix snaps photo after photo, capturing our makeshift holiday. The sound of laughter fills the air, punctuating the clicks of the camera.
"Time for some homemade ice cream," Tristan announces, brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. I roll my eyes at his antics but can't suppress a smile. We gather around the kitchen counter, the cold metal bowl of the ice cream maker whirring loudly as it churns our sweet concoction.
"Rainbow waffle sandwiches next!" Nix exclaims, eyes wide with excitement. He's been looking forward to making these no-bake treats all day.
"Chop, chop, sous chefs," I tease, motioning them to our assembly line. We spread vibrant layers of cream cheese frosting onto waffles, laughing as we compete to see who can make the most colorful sandwich. The taste of each bite is pure bliss—sweet, tangy, and cool all at once.
My and Tristan's birthdays are just a day apart—July 31 and August 1 respectively.
Both of us are Leos, born at the height of summer, and we couldn't have asked for better presents than waking up to each other's touch those mornings.
Our moans mingled with the chirping of birds outside, passion filling the room.
"Happy birthday, babe," Tristan murmured on a late July morning, a wicked grin on his face as we lay there, catching our breath. He'd awakened me to one of the best blow jobs of my life. I laugh, shaking my head at his unabashed boldness.
"Happy birthday to you, sweetheart." And I had proceeded to return the favor by giving him a blow job right as the clock struck midnight on his birthday, which he said was one of the best blowjobs I'd ever given him.
I basked in his praise. After I'd swallowed his cum—an art I was perfecting—I’d planted a soft kiss on his lips.
Later, we found ourselves at the coffee shop, armed with a gift card from Tristan's coworkers. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans and warm pastries enveloped us as we placed our orders.
"Two Leos together… a combustible combination," I remark, smirking.
Tristan snorts, before launching into some of the bizarre calls the department had received over the years, like people stuck in playground equipment, vending machines or even manhole covers.
We trade anecdotes and jokes, relating to our respective jobs (me as a former sports agent) and our laughter mingles with the hum of conversation from other patrons.
"Life is pretty great, huh?" Tristan says, looking at me with a smile that fully reaches his eyes.
I nod, feeling an odd mix of contentment and apprehension.
I'm not sure why. Except for me working ridiculous hours as a sports agent, Cara and I had a wonderful life together that just got richer when Nix was born.
And then she was gone. So, it's like there's still a part of me that's waiting for this blissful life to end.
I keep asking myself stupid questions. Is this really my life now?
Can it last? For now, all I know is that I don't want this moment to end.
Too soon, the summer vacation is coming to an end.
George and Cynthia host their end-of-summer BBQ extravaganza in their backyard.
The name of the event is a stark contrast to what it really is.
It's just family and friends hanging out and having fun with each other.
The air is thick with the mouthwatering smell of grilling hamburgers and hot dogs, making my stomach growl in anticipation.
I feel nostalgic as this is the second year that Cara is not at this family event.
I don't feel the acute sting of her absence this year, but there's still this low, throbbing pain in the pit of my stomach that's difficult for me to describe.
The most important thing is that Nix is doing much better than he was last year.
This time last year, Cara had only been gone six months; now, it's more than a year later.
Sometimes I fear that as the years go by, he'll forget his mother's smile, or her touch, or the affectionate way she looked at him.
That's why I talk to him about her often, and we look at photos of her so his memory of her won’t fade.
Nix is such an adorable boy, and I want the absolute best for him.
But there’s another unexpected dynamic. This year, I have a new partner in my life—Tristan—when for the last two decades, Cara had been by my side.
A confusing mix of emotions wash over me: sadness for the loss of my first love, guilt for finding another soulmate so quickly, joy for having someone who loves me as much as Tristan does, and yet more guilt for bringing that person into my in-laws' home.
George and Cynthia have come to accept Tristan, but there's a part of me that still feels uneasy about it all.
"Nice spread, George," I say, impressed by the array of toppings laid out on a long table: cheese, lettuce, tomato, pickles, and more condiments than you can shake a stick at. Cynthia seems to have outdone herself with her famous red and green coleslaw.
"Hello, Mr. Madden." Miguel waves at me excitedly, tugging his dads along with him. He and Nix have been inseparable since they became friends, and it's heartwarming to see them so happy together.
"Ready for some fun?" I grin. With a collective cheer, we all head towards the pool, eager to make the most of these last days of summer.
"Marco!" Nix shouts, eyes squeezed shut as he splashes around in search of Miguel.
"Polo!" comes the reply, Miguel's laughter tinkling like wind chimes as he dodges Nix's eager hands.
I glance over at Tristan, who's stretched out on a lounge chair looking utterly relaxed...
and sexy. The sun dances off his tanned skin, making him glow like some kind of Greek god.
My chest swells with love and gratitude for how lucky I am to have him in my life.
"Ready, guys?" Cynthia calls, holding up a deck of cards.
We gather around the patio table, each of us trying to maintain our poker faces as we engage in a fierce battle of Go Fish.
The conversation is lively, punctuated by bursts of laughter and good-natured ribbing.
I find myself chuckling at George's terrible bluffing skills and Tristan's teasing banter.
"Got any threes?" I ask Cynthia, trying to keep my face neutral.
"Go fish!" she replies with a wicked grin, clearly enjoying our little game.
The sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over everything. I take a deep breath, inhaling the smoky scent of the grill mixed with freshly cut grass and chlorine from the pool. In this moment, life is perfect as I’m surrounded by family, friends, laughter, and love.
And before I know it, it’s back-to-school season. I can’t believe my boy is entering third grade. I watch as he bounds towards the school entrance, backpack bouncing on his shoulders.
"Byeeee!” Nix gives us one last wave before disappearing into the building. With a sigh, I try to tone down that familiar pang of nervousness for him. New year, new challenges… but I know he'll do great.
"Hey, babe," Tristan says as we walk back into my apartment, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. "How’re you holding up?"
"Good, I guess," I admit. "It's just... he's growing up so fast."
"Tell me about it," Tristan agrees, reaching over to give my hand a comforting squeeze. "But hey, he mentioned something about wanting to try Little League baseball. That could be fun, right?"
"Definitely!" I perk up at the idea, already imagining Nix swinging a bat and running the bases with that determined look on his face. "We should look into signing him up."
Over the next few weeks, I find myself attending Nix's practices, cheering him on from the sidelines.
Tristan joins me when he has a day off, and together we watch our son thrive in his new sport.
The joy in Nix's eyes as he hits the ball or makes a great catch is absolutely contagious, and I can't help but beam with pride.
And then there are those precious moments Tristan and I share.
I treasure those times we make love. All my life I'd identified as straight, and never had a doubt about it.
But after living through forty years and experiencing the devastating loss of my first soulmate, I'm not wasting a single moment wondering why I'm attracted to a man for the first time or why I didn't realize this about myself sooner.
Life is short, and I'm embracing the present without getting caught up in overthinking.
Every heartbeat, every emotion is a reminder of life's fleeting nature.
It only took one hot firefighter with those defined arms, that smoothly-muscled chest, and that chiseled jaw to turn my world upside down…
but in a good way. Yet he's more than his outward beauty; he has a heart that's pure gold.
He's protective, and he loves big. And he's mine. I'm the luckiest man alive.
And at this moment, his body presses against mine, his strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer.
The feel of his skin against mine sends shivers down my spine, a delicious blend of pleasure and anticipation.
Tonight is warm, our bedroom bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains.
"Tristan," I whisper, my voice barely audible as he leans in to capture my lips in a searing kiss that leaves me breathless.
"God, Myles," he murmurs against my mouth, his hands roaming my body, igniting a fire within me that only he can quench.
We move together, bodies entwined, his hips thrusting, thrusting, thrusting as his dick assaults my insides.
We're lost in a dance as old as time itself.
Our passion builds, escalating to a crescendo that leaves us both gasping for air, trembling in the aftermath.
"Wow," I mutter, my head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It sounds like home, and I'm grateful for every moment we get to share like this. Slowly, sleep claims me, and I drift off in the safety of his embrace, until…
"NO!"
Tristan's scream shatters the peace of the night, jerking me awake in an instant. Panic floods my veins as I struggle to comprehend what's happening.