Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Truthfully—and I’d never tell this to Cameron—but I’ve been helping Brody carry out some of his harmless pranks.
Not only is it heartwarming to see my son actually getting to be a kid, but it shows me that he’s bonded with Cameron on a brotherly level.
I no longer fret about the age gap between the boys because I know Brody looks up to Cameron like a mentor.
Besides, seeing Cameron dish it right back is also heartwarming.
I get to watch him remember how to be a kid again too.
Sarah turns to me again once Cameron heads back to his room.
“Lauren, I have known you since I sold you this house over a decade ago. You are my best friend, so I mean this with so much love. You are the happiest I’ve seen you—ever.
Girl, I watched you gush all over telling me about how much you love both your men, and while I can’t say as I would ever be able to see myself being polyamorous, I can completely see how it could work. Heck, how it is working.”
“That’s why I don’t understand why it’s looked at as being so taboo. We’re literally just existing normally, just as a throuple as opposed to a couple.”
“And, just because I’m having trouble wrapping my head around this, explain that to me again? The three of you have your own separate relationships, but then you also love each other as a whole unit too?”
I nod. “I’m not seeing men who are clones of one another, they each bring something different to the table for me. Marcus with his comfort and security. Caleb and his desire to bring excitement and something new into the mix.”
“And they’re together too? Sorry, tell me if I’m being too nosy.”
“It’s fine. Actually, I prefer people have a better understanding of it before casting judgement.
Yes, Marcus and Caleb are together too. Marcus feels like he can be his most authentic self around Caleb, and Caleb is there for him as his biggest cheerleader, really.
I also think that Marcus reminds Caleb of the life he once lived and thought he’d never be able to again after Aaron.
He’s pulled Caleb out of the past by guiding him through it, if that makes sense. ”
“Gah,” Sarah huffs. “That sounds so perfect…”
And I have to agree with her on that. How does that saying go? We may not have it all together, but together we have it all? Yeah, it’s something like that…
Marcus taps me on the shoulder, startling me. “What can I help with?” he asks, obviously noting my frantic state.
I want to tear my goddamn hair out. I don’t usually put this much effort into Thanksgiving dinner because it’s always been just Brody, Marcus, and myself.
This year, however, we’re entertaining guests, and I’m meeting the Wilmots for the first time, in person.
And I might be freaking the fuck out, just a tiny bit.
Caleb’s mom and dad, his sister, Natalie, her husband, Danny, and their three kids, along with his Nana Wilmot are all coming.
So yeah, maybe I should have spent more time preparing for today in advance, but it felt too good to spend some time with my friend yesterday, getting everything off my chest, that it left me little time to do anything else but get the pies done.
Marcus wraps his arms around my waist, pressing himself in from behind, leaning down to rest his chin on my shoulder. “Babe, take a minute and breathe. We’ve got time before they all get here.”
Caleb and his family are all over at his house, going through all the things that they might want before he puts the house up on the market—probably rehashing all their summer memories there as well, a nod to the property that brought them to Ternbay every year.
I know Caleb, though, and he’s probably using it as time to figure out how to properly introduce us—our triad, plus Brody—to them.
“Can you baste the turkey and keep the squash from boiling over while I hop in the shower?” I ask him.
“Take all the time you need, Lo. I think I can handle it,” he quips, hugging me tighter.
I sigh and lean back into his chest. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so frazzled that I haven’t even told you how amazing you look today.”
I feel his cheek grow hot where it’s pressed up against mine. Then, he gulps hard. “You don’t think it’ll be too much? I mean, I should probably go change, right? Wait to wear this for when you’re not just meeting everyone for the first time today?”
I’m about to answer when Brody steps into the kitchen. “I think you should keep the outfit you have on, Dad,” he says matter-of-factly. “You tell me I can do brave things all the time…”
When Marcus came out of our bedroom wearing an off-the-shoulder, cream-colored sweater-dress this morning, Brody was uncharacteristically off his video games and out helping me out in the kitchen.
At first, he was a little stunned, to say the least, but then he recalled the conversation we all had while we were out camping, and he just started asking respectful questions instead.
To say that I was shocked by the maturity in which Brody handled the situation would be an understatement.
“Are you going to wear any jewelry with it?” Brody asks, exuding pure curiosity.
Marcus pulls away from me and frowns slightly. “Dad doesn’t have any pretty jewelry that would go good with this.”
“I have plenty in my jewelry box,” I note. “Ooh, I think I have a statement pendant that would go well with your dress, actually…”
I watch as my husband’s eyes light up. “You’d let me wear your jewelry? I thought you were pretty staunch on your stance about us sharing.”
I click my tongue. “For frig’s sake, Marco. Socks, underwear, and toothbrushes—that’s all I’ve ever griped about.”
“Bodywash, too…”
I roll my eyes. “That’s because I like how yours smells on you, and that’s all I’m going to say about that while our child is in the room with us,” I hiss.
Marcus smirks. “Good to know. Now, go take your shower, and I’ll rummage through your jewelry box after.”
“Do you want me to do any makeup for you?” I offer.
Marcus cheeks flame pink again. I reach up and stroke one with the pad of my thumb. “I don’t want to shave my face,” he admits. “I like my beard. I like the gender-ambiguity and the juxtaposition my facial hair creates.”
“What’s gender-ambiguity?” Brody asks, stumbling over the words. “Does that mean you wanna be a girl, Dad? Isn’t that, like, transgender?”
Marcus scooches down—which, at his height, actually renders him mostly eye-to-eye with Brody.
He shakes his head. “No, Brode. I don’t want to be a girl.
I identify as he/him, so I’m not non-binary either.
I do, however, like expressing myself in a way that doesn’t classify me as strictly male or female because I just generally don’t think that clothes or toys or anything like that need to be gendered.
I’ve never seen a reason why kids need to grow up believing that boys shouldn’t play with baby dolls, or girls can’t play with trucks, and why I was yelled at for playing dress up in my mom’s closet—” He immediately catches his admission and purses his lips.
“Who yelled at you?” Brody asks, brows pinched with concern.
“Grandad,” I tell him, because I know Marcus won’t.
What I won’t confess is that Marcus’ dad actually slapped him during that fight.
As far as I know, from what Marcus told me, that was the only time Lorenzo ever laid a hand on him, but it was enough to scare the shit out of me, given that he would strike a child.
Marcus was only eight when this happened.
Not that I wasn’t already petrified enough of his stricter than necessary parents, but after Marcus confessed that to me, I was a lot more wary of his father.
I spent even more time over there, ready to hand Lorenzo his ass if he ever struck Marcus again.
I don’t care if I was “just a little girl” at the time and he was an authority figure that I was scared as hell of, I would have throat-punched Lorenzo without a second thought.
When I snap back to reality, Marcus is looking at me with brows raised. “You know, it’s the sheer murder in your eyes that has me labelling you my dark rose, Lo.”
I look around the room. “Where’d Brody go?”
“I believe he called Dad a ‘stupid meanie, just like Ryker’ and took off down the hall when he heard Pepper scratching at Cam’s door.”
I snort. “Your dad is a stupid meanie…”
Marcus pops his shoulder, directing my eyes towards the glimpse of chest hair peeking out from the neckline of his dress.
Then further down to the outline of his nipple rings, pressing against the tight knit.
“That’s why he and Mom never get an invite here for pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving. Also, quit ogling my nips. Go. Shower.”
“Look at you putting on a dress and getting all bossy with me.”
He fixes me with an unimpressed look before swatting my ass. “You and I both know who wears the pants in this household.”
“Not you!” Brody teases from down the hall.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious!” Marcus tuts.
I squeal when he tosses me over his shoulder, as if I'm nothing more than a sack of potatoes, and hauls me into the bathroom.
He does his best to give me a death-glare when he sets me down.
"Don't come out until you're sufficiently bathed of all your stress and ready to return smelling like cucumbers and melons! "
A juxtaposition he is indeed. Gigantic bear of a man, wearing a dress, huffing at little ol' me to—of all things—sit in the shower until I’m relaxed. I just love him.