It’s getting late. Dawson’s fallen asleep on Reagan’s lap, and she’s sleeping with her head resting on my shoulder. Both are lightly snoring, and I don’t mind. Aimee’s on the other couch, staring at us, and I take the opportunity to talk to her. To get to know her since she’s Reagan’s best friend.

“Be careful with her,” she says to me before I get a chance to say anything.

“I need you to understand that I’d never hurt her. I’m not a player or man-whore. When I’m in it with someone, I’m all in. I care very deeply for her, and I love how she is with Dawson. You don’t have to worry.”

This seems to put her at ease.

“I know. I can tell you really care about her. Ever since you came into her life, even when you guys hated each other, she’s had a different light to her. It’s like you’re bringing back the old Reagan.”

“Old Reagan?”

She nods. “Something happened to her toward the end of our senior year at college.” She sighs, rubbing her face, and leans forward on the couch, hugging her knees. “She’s my best friend. We’ve been there for each other since middle school, when I first moved to town. There was this brightness to her, and everyone loved her. She was innocent though, ya know?”

I nod, fully listening and wondering what happened.

“Then, came college. We were roommates, and I honestly don’t think I would’ve passed my classes if I didn’t have her. We went to a party the week of our last finals, and after that…I don’t know.” She sighs again. “She turned away from everyone and isolated herself. You know, she missed her own graduation. By the time I got back from graduation, there was money and a note on the counter. All it said was, she was sorry and had to leave and that, one day, she’d come back and be okay.”

“That sounds terrible. And you don’t know what happened?”

“No. I don’t push her either. It’s like Reagan’s suffering alone, but now that you have come into her life and are making her smile, I think whatever demons she has are going away. So, please, please, if this is some game, then leave, and I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

“I appreciate you looking out for her and caring about her. I assure you, I like her a lot.” I pause and look at the woman who is slowly beginning to own me.

I thought I understood love and commitment. With Jennifer, we meshed together, and since we had known each other for years, it made sense to be with her. I loved her and wanted to spend my life with her. Once Dawson came, I thought we’d be complete. We’d be whole. Once things started changing, so did my love. It turned from romantic to friendly, and that’s where my heart is now when it comes to her.

When I look at Reagan or even think about her, everything makes sense. Things are clearer, and I want to be a better man for her. For Dawson.

As I hold her close to my body, I realize how different she makes me feel. How every kiss ignites passion and pure desire of need and want. With every touch and kiss, I pour every bit of emotion I have into her. For the first time, I feel comfortable and at ease.

I pull her close, lean down, and press my lips on top of her head.

“Aw, you two.”

I turn and smile at Aimee before turning to the TV. I think I should probably get going since it’s getting to be almost eleven, and Dawson’s going to be miserable and tired for school.

Before I’m able to move, Reagan grabs my shirt and snuggles closer to me.

“I’d like for you and Dawson to stay with me tonight.”

“Are you sure?” I swallow the doubt forming and hope she doesn’t think she has to do this. “It’s okay, baby. Sander’s waiting for my call, and I don’t mind leaving.”

“Please don’t,” she mutters as she holds me tighter. “I’m not ready to let you escape. I’d much rather have the both of you here with me.”

Instead of saying anything, I get up and carry Dawson in my arms. Reagan stretches and groggily walks in front of me. I follow her, feeling a sense of belonging, like I should be doing this very thing with her. We walk inside her bedroom.

I look around, taking in the space that is as elegant as the woman before me. Very Reagan. There’s a queen-size bed facing the door with a nightstand next to the bed and a dresser against the wall. In the dark, I can see she has some pictures scattered, and a sign that reads, She believed she could, so she did. Just those words alone make me think of what she could have gone through. It makes me wonder if she’ll ever share with me the obstacles she had to face.

“I’ll be right back. Need to change and brush my teeth, but please, make yourself comfortable. And, no, you don’t need to sleep on the floor. Dawson will be between us, so it’s okay.”

I can’t find the words, so I simply nod and place Dawson in the middle of the bed. After stripping out of my shirt, I think about putting it back on, but then I toss it on the floor and climb in next to my son.

When Reagan reemerges, she comes into bed and turns on her side, so she’s facing us. Dawson’s back is toward me, and he snuggles in close to her, obviously feeling as secure with her as I do. I like this. I like this a lot.

“I’m so tired.” She quietly laughs. “I’d love to talk, but we have a busy day tomorrow, and I think we both need sleep.” She yawns just before her nose crinkles up in the cutest way. “I’ll see you in the morning, handsome. Sweet dreams.”

“Good night, baby.”

I reach over and pull her hand into mine. She lets me, and we stay like this all night, that simple contact bringing me more peace than I have ever felt.

* * *

The next morning, after having Sander pick us up and take us back to my apartment, I’m in my office, ready to go to Dawson’s spelling bee contest. He’s nervous, and I feel like a shitty dad for not reviewing the words with him last night.

Making sure I have everything, I let Brett, my new assistant, know where I’m off to and to call me if I’m needed.

“Go!” He smiles and rushes me out. “Plus, I have that sexy man AKA Remy to help me if I need it.”

He smiles again, and I have to shake my head. I’m glad I have him and not some doe-eyed woman assisting me.

“Remember, call me if anything comes up, Brett.”

“Got it, sweets.” He winks and blows me a kiss.

“Brett, you’re on day two,” I remind him.

He waves me off and sits down to answer the phone.

Go, he mouths.

I do, but I make it to Reagan’s office. She’s furiously typing, and I love how focused she looks.

“I’ll try to make it,” she says as she continues typing. “Sorry. Miranda has me reviewing back-to-back reports and finalizing her trip to California. I’m so, so sorry if I don’t make it today. I got Dawson something.”

“You didn’t have to.”

She turns and gives me that beautiful smile I love so much. “But I did, so make sure you give it to him.”

She points at an envelope on her desk, and I grab it while leaning over to kiss her bye.

With my briefcase, I run through the office, take the elevator down to the lobby, and rush outside to meet Sander. We have twenty minutes to make it to Dawson’s school by twelve thirty, and it’s the middle of the lunch rush hour.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Powers. I got you. My sister-in-law’s a teacher at the school and she says you’re all set.”

“Thank you, Sander. It’ll just be us today so I can’t be late. Reagan, Remy, and Jennifer won’t be attending, and my parents are securing a very important deal.”

“Little man knows everyone’s rooting for him. That boy has a heart of gold.”

“He does,” I agree.

This morning, when we dropped him off and I promised I’d be there, he said it would be okay if I missed it. He understood that no one else would be coming, and it broke my heart. This is going to be a major contest for him. His first. My son’s first contest, and he won’t have a big audience to cheer him on.

My phone vibrates, and it’s a text from Jennifer.

Jennifer: I’m extending my Nashville trip for a month. Gotta stay down here.

Me: Did you at least talk to Dawson and wish him luck?

Jennifer: For?

Me: His spelling bee contest. Remember, he’s top of his class.

Jennifer: Wow. I didn’t know he was that good of a speller. Cool. Give him my love and kisses. XO.

I don’t respond. I put my phone away. There are times I wish she’d leave us be and walk away from Dawson. He deserves better.

Sander pulls up to the front of the school and I rush in, heading toward the auditorium and see that Sander’s sister-in-law did reserve seats in the front row for me. I’m not sure why there are so many seats when it’ll just be me and Sander today. When I sit down, I look at my watch, and the contest will start in two minutes. Right before Mrs. Clawson, the principal of the school, brings the mic to her lips, I hear a door close, and people rushing in. I hate when people are late. It’s rude, and it shows a lack of respect for the event. When I turn around to see the idiots, I’m wide-eyed, and I take back everything I said about people being late.

“Hi, handsome.” Reagan leans down and kisses me on the cheek while my parents, Remy, and Sander take their seats.

“What’s going on?” I whisper.

“We rearranged the day and wanted to surprise you.” I notice Reagan waving to Sander and he gives her a wink. “Miranda got everything she needed ahead of time, so Vincent expedited the deal, and Remy put Brett in charge. He’s in his glory right now, telling people what to do and checking to make sure works being done. Remy and I put Sander in charge with the seats and here we are.”

“Oh, hush, you two,” my mom says a little too loudly. “My grandson’s going to kick booty today.”

“Mom,” I hiss.

I see Remy and my dad shake their heads, laughing.

After Mrs. Clawson finishes her speech, the contest starts, and Dawson’s face lights up when he sees all of us here, cheering him on.

Dawson starts strong. A few children misspell their words, and it seems to be between Dawson and another student.

“Please spell acquire.”

I’m on the edge of my seat, watching Dawson and admiring my son’s ability to strive to be the best.

He walks up to the microphone and pauses, looking as if he’s saying the word in his head, and starts to spell the word. “A-c-q-u-i-r-e.”

“Correct.”

“Yes! Good job, Dawson!” I stand and cheer.

Some parents look at me, and Reagan pulls me down to my chair.

“Correct. Melody, please spell ominous.”

“Um. Definition, please.”

“Sure. A clue or hint that something bad might happen.”

“Oh. Okay. Ominous. O-h-m-i-n-o-u-s.”

“I’m sorry, Melody. That is wrong.”

Melody walks back to her seat and hugs Dawson.

When Dawson is back to the microphone, the announcer gives him his final word.

Dawson says, “P-t-e-r-o-d-a-c-t-y-l.”

“Correct.”

“You did it!”

Our row stands to cheer for my son.

"Congratulations, Dawson. You're the winner of the spelling bee." She hands him a trophy and he holds it high over his head.

“You did it!” I yell again, holding out my arms.

Dawson rushes off the stage and runs toward me to give me a hug, and thanks everyone for coming.

“Dude, you are the man!” Remy holds up his hand for a high five.

“Thanks, Uncle Remy. Thank you, everyone, for coming. Grandpa, I thought you had an important deal to close?”

“I did, rascal, but we wouldn’t have missed your big day for anything.”

Dawson’s face beams, and I kiss the top of his head.

“Dad!” he whisper-shouts. “Please. I’m not a baby. I’m a man.”

A what?

“Thank you for coming. I need to talk to Melody.”

What?

“Bye, Dad. Bye, Reagan. Bye, Grandma and Grandpa. Bye, Uncle Remy. Bye Sander!”

I watch Dawson hug Melody. My six-year-old son. Hugging a girl.

My nerves are shot, and I see myself in him.

Oh, fuck.

“Come on, handsome. Let him be.”

I turn and look at Reagan before looking to find Dawson. “That’s my mini me. I’m so fucked.”

“Karma, son.” My dad slaps my shoulder. “Karma.”