Emory
Social media comments were flooding in faster than she could keep up. At least she had notifications from social media apps turned off on her phone. Five years of working in marketing had taught her that, even if she was at a loss on how to handle this.
This, though, made her want to rip her hair out.
“Dinner’s nearly ready.”
Clayton looked up from the handheld gaming console, acknowledging her presence briefly before quickly looking down and jabbing at the buttons.
“I can’t pause, just let me kill this guy.
” He grunted with the words, twisting the console between his hands as he fought off whichever animated monster boss he was up to.
Closing her eyes so he didn’t see her roll them, Emory took a second to compose herself.
No matter how tight it made her jaw, she couldn’t blame Clayton for wanting to finish the level.
She’d have been the same at his age. Hell, she still was the same, in a way.
She could never stop reading mid-page, or even mid-chapter.
And she hated pausing a show midway through a scene.
Just because he was a kid didn’t mean the expectations should have been any different.
“Thanks, Clayton,” she managed after a long breath, before turning back into the hall.
She found Byron sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by piles of clothes.
A near-empty laundry basket sat next to him.
Emory watched as he rifled through the clothes to find a pair of socks.
He bundled them into the neatest little parcel, a trick Emory had no patience for most days.
When she did the socks, one was shoved inside the other in a messy ball shape.
Shifting a few piles of clothes out of the way, Emory sat next to Byron and reached across him. He passed her a small bunch of clothes, and she got to work folding while he finished the socks.
“Tucker’s coming tomorrow,” she said with a yawn. “You can’t join the meeting, but I told him to come here for dinner.”
“I’m serving beef.” Byron grunted a satisfied laugh.
“I will buy something vegan on my way back from the office tomorrow. You can cook beef for the rest of us.”
Just like back when they were flooded into the farmhouse, Byron still did all the cooking.
It suited Emory just fine, considering she despised being in the kitchen most of the time.
Besides, she was generally too exhausted from work anyway.
Marketing was her passion, but working full time was tiring.
Byron had taken his role of house husband very seriously, even in the years before he was actually her husband.
He didn’t just cook, he did most of the laundry, and he became the default parent for Clayton, organising everything they needed for his transition through pre-school and into the primary school he was still attending.
Byron even coached the basketball team, despite never having played a game in his life. He was perfect.
The only thing that made it better was the small ceremony they held back at the farm a little over a year ago.
Mya had become a celebrant just to be the one to officially marry them, after years of questioning why they were waiting so long.
Emory knew why Byron was waiting, though, and it didn’t bother her.
Clayton and Miff had been their ring bearers.
Emory twisted her wedding band on her finger, remembering the way Miff had slept at their feet through the ceremony.
It was nice, having that lovely memory of her that she could carry with her always.
Tucker had, of course, been their first witness, and, after a few years of slowly coming to terms with the new family arrangement, Jaxon had been their second. Things were still sketchy, at best, but he was there. They were all trying to make things right.
Emory’s stomach grumbled. “How long until dinner is ready?”
“I can start serving it up now, if you want?”
Emory climbed onto Byron’s lap and settled between his legs. “In a minute,” she mumbled against his lips. “You know, all those years ago, I never thought this would be where we’d end up.”
Wrapping his arms around her, Byron held her close as he kissed her deeply before whispering in her ear, “I’m pretty fucking happy that we did, though.”