“Kiddo!” I called down the hall to Sam’s room. “Zach is going to be here any minute. Could you help me set the kitchen table?”

I had all the windows open in the kitchen, and the back door to the porch. The sun was shining in as it sank lower in the sky, and the place was sweltering. I’d made the foolish decision to cook in the stove on a hot summer night, and I was regretting it.

“I should have just done a pasta salad and burgers and called it a night,” I grumbled as I checked on the lasagna baking away in the oven.

Sam came into the kitchen, dressed in bright orange shorts and a blue and white striped shirt. He immediately went to the drawer where we kept our placemats and began setting them out on the table.

“You getting hungry, Sam?” I asked as I grabbed lettuce from the fridge to make a Caesar salad.

Sam nodded. His bare feet slapped across the linoleum as he grabbed cutlery. He took knives and forks from mismatching sets and placed them on either side of the placemats he had just put out. “I’m starving,” he said.

He never used to say “I’m starving.” He would always just say that he was hungry. But ever since Zach started hanging around, he’d started picking up on things Zach always said. Like “I’m starving,” “I have to take a leak,” or my personal favorite, “pretty girl.” Sam used this pickup line on me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d try it out on girls in preschool in the fall. Part of me hoped he would, while another part of me knew I might get flack for it from oversensitive parents with no sense of humor.

“Where’s Zach?” Sam asked after he finished setting the table.

“He called and said he was running a bit late after work. And he had to run to his mom’s house before coming here. But he should be here any minute. And then we can eat.”

Sam groaned and slumped over to the kitchen table where he slid into his chair and squished his cheeks in his hands while he rested his elbows on the table.

I laughed at him. “Are you that hungry?”

“No,” he said simply.

“Then why the long face?”

“I wanted to play with Zach before dinner.”

All of my insides turned to mush, and I fought back the burn of tears. I looked away from him and pulled a bag of croutons down from my cupboard. “Well, I’m sure Zach will want to play with you after dinner. You guys can play, and maybe I’ll make a special treat?”

He sat up straighter. “Cookies?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Sam nodded eagerly.

“Okay. It’s a plan then. Now go wash your hands for dinner. I think I just heard Zach’s bike pull up.”

Sam launched himself out of his chair, and I laughed to myself as his footsteps pounded down the hall to the bathroom. I listened as he ran the water, scrubbed his hands for the full ten seconds he was supposed to, and then turned the tap off to dry them. At that very moment, the front door opened, and Zach yelled hello.

Sam beat me to it and cried a great, “Hi!” before hurrying to the front door to throw his arms around Zach’s legs. I poked my head out of the kitchen to look down the hall where Zach was pulling off his riding gloves and patting Sam on the back. He glanced up at me and smiled.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said.

“Hey, handsome,” I said, nodding my head at the kitchen table. “You hungry?”

“Starving.” Zach grinned, rubbing his stomach.

“Me too!” Sam cried, now tugging on Zach’s leg to pull him down the hall. I watched them both come my way, and Zach greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Sam hurried around us and climbed up in his seat to wait for his food.

“You can bring your plate over here, little man,” I said. “I’ll scoop it on your plate for you, but I’m not serving you. Come on.”

Sam took his plate, which was a bit awkward because it was huge in his hands, and carried it over. I took the lasagna out of the oven, which had only been keeping it warm until Zach arrived, and carved out a corner piece for Sam—his favorite. Then I gave him a bit of salad and told him to sit and wait for us before he ate.

I plated mine and Zach’s dinner next, poured us each a glass of wine, and joined my son at the table. Zach sat too, right across from Sam, and the two of them stared down at their food.

“Can we eat now?” Zach asked.

“Of course.” I laughed. “But be careful, it might be hot.”

We all dug in and enjoyed our meals. I sat in silence, listening to the two of them chat. Sam asked Zach a dozen questions about work, and he answered patiently while he ate.

It felt like I was sitting with my little dream family. This was all I had wanted for so long, and to finally have it, to be sitting in the moment I had dreamed of, was the most satisfying thing I had ever felt. My son was happy. Zach was happy. I was happy.

And the icing on the cake was that I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t doubt Zach’s word. I knew he wouldn’t leave. We’d talked a couple of times over the last week about Sam, and Zach admitted to being completely dedicated to our son. Even if he had to wait a year or more before Sam was ready to hear that Zach was his father, he was all in.

I’d never been so happy as I had been when he said those words.

Deciding to tell Sam that Zach was his father was a big decision. There could be repercussions. I doubted he would take it badly, but I wanted to wait a bit longer just to be sure. Maybe a few more weeks. If all were still going smoothly, I would find the right time to tell him the truth. I’d have to keep it a little PG, but I wanted Sam to understand why his father wasn’t around for the last five years.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to be. It was because he didn’t know he was a dad. Zach and I would have to work out the details. Zach explained that he didn’t want Sam to think that I had kept his father from him for nearly five years. I could see the reason in that. But I also didn’t want to lie to my son.

Zach assured me we would find the right words, and we would tell him together.

When dinner was done, Zach cleared the table with Sam’s help, loaded the dishwasher, and packed away the leftover lasagna in a Tupperware container. I joined him by the sink as Sam tugged on his pant leg, begging to play in his room.

Zach chuckled and looked down at him. “Give me ten minutes with your mom, bud, and then you have my full attention for the rest of the night.”

“Until bedtime,” I corrected.

Zach nodded. “What your mom said. Go on. I’ll meet you in your room. I have something for you.” He winked.

Sam beamed up at us and then took off for his room to no doubt set up all the toys he wanted to play with.

I leaned against Zach’s shoulder and sighed. “This was the perfect evening. Thank you for coming over.”

“Thank you for dinner,” Zach said.

“You are so welcome. You go play with Zach. I’ll finish cleaning up in here. I think I’ll boil the kettle for some tea in a bit. Would you like a cup?”

“Sure,” Zach said. Then he turned, gathered me in his arms, kissed me deeply, and squeezed my ass. I giggled when we broke apart, and he backed away down the hall. “I’ll be back. I have to grab his toy from my bike.”

“Okay.” I laughed, pressing my fingers to my now tingling lips as I finished tidying the kitchen.

I heard Zach come back in less than a minute later. I poked my head out, and he ducked into Sam’s room. I was curious what he had brought him, so I went down the hall and leaned against the doorframe to Sam’s room.

Sam was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his galaxy-printed area rug. He had laid out his chemistry set and solar system model and was staring at whatever Zach had in his hands. I couldn’t see as his back was to me.

Zach went down to his knees in front of Sam and held out a small plastic container. I peered around his shoulders to try to get a better look.

“What is it?” Sam asked, a note of awe coloring his voice. He peered at the base of the box, eyes narrowing as he studied something small at the bottom. Small and green.

“It’s a carnivorous plant terrarium,” Zach said, resting his hands on his knees. “It’s like a baby Venus Fly Trap.”

“What?” Sam asked. “That’s so cool!”

“Right?” Zach exclaimed. He sounded equally as excited as Sam—and as young. I chuckled and shook my head at them as Sam put the terrarium down and leaned over it.

“How big do they get?” Sam asked.

“They’re meant to live in the box, so probably not that big.” Zach held up his finger. “Maybe as tall as my finger with a mouth the size of a marble.”

“What do they eat?”

“Kids,” Zach teased. “Preferably kids with glasses.”

Sam looked up sharply and then laughed when he realized this was just a joke. Then he was laughing harder, almost too hard, and I knew that he was about to have an episode all too late. His laugh turned into a wheezing breath, his eyes widened, and he clawed at his chest, trying to peel his shirt off. This was his normal reaction. He hated feeling confined, and the feeling of the collar of his shirt around his neck made him incredibly anxious, which only increased his level of panic and made it harder to breathe.

I rushed to get to him, but Zach beat me to it.

He closed his massive hands over Sam’s tiny shoulders and said his name in a calm, deep voice. Sam’s eyes flicked to him and focused on him, his father, unbeknownst to him. Zach took a slow deep breath, and Sam followed. Then Zach spoke to him, keeping his voice soothing. “Sam, you’re okay. Breathe out slow with me. That’s it. Now take a deep breath. Good. You feel that beating in your chest? That hard thumping?”

Sam nodded. His hands had fallen from his chest. There was no longer panic in his eyes.

“Just think about that. Breathe in on every fifth thump. That’ta boy.” Zach nodded encouragingly. He waited about twenty seconds. “Okay. Is the thump slowing down?”

Sam nodded again.

“Good. Breathe with me now.”

Sam followed Zach’s breathing until, all at once, he was calm again. His face regained the color it had lost in a matter of seconds, and his breathing returned to normal. Then Sam was on his feet and going to Zach to wrap his arms around his shoulders.

Zach cradled his head and engulfed him with his thick arms.

I stood in the doorway and cried, hoping neither of them would look at me.

Sam already loved his father.