It had been a long ass three months, but it was all good. We had to tell Grandpa Hart about me being Sam’s father, which went over better than we thought it would. Not only that, but Sam had to meet my mom. She melted as soon as the kid paid her some attention. I’d always heard that little people could win friends and influence people. Now I knew it was true.

I closed the door to the master bedroom and turned to find Jo staring at me with an arched eyebrow. Her arms were crossed, and a party hat stuffed with colorful tissue at the tip didn’t make her look any less menacing.

“So,” she said slowly. “How many moving boxes are in there?”

I grinned sheepishly. “Only four.”

Her eyebrow crept higher toward her hairline.

“Okay, seven, but I’ll finish unpacking tomorrow.”

Her composure cracked and she smiled. “It’s fine. I’m just teasing you. With all this party stuff everywhere, it doesn’t make sense to unpack anything. We’ll give the house a good cleaning tomorrow and then get the rest of your stuff put up.”

I had officially moved in with Jo and Sam two weeks ago. I’d slowly been moving my things over from the apartment and just had a couple of boxes left of things that would most likely end up in storage. I had some military awards, uniforms, pictures, and memorabilia that Jo wanted to put on display. Besides that, it was just clothes and a few random things to deal with.

But that would be dealt with another day. Today was Sam’s birthday—and the first one I would be at, to boot.

Jo and I had sat him down and told him a month ago that I was his dad. Sam, in his infinite child wisdom, had nodded and said, “I thought so.”

This baffled Jo and I, of course.

“What do you mean, you thought so?” Jo asked.

Sam shrugged. “I wanted him to be. So I imagined he was. And now he is.”

My heart expanded in my chest

Jo wrapped her arms around my shoulders and tried not to laugh. Sam, confused, slid off his seat and hugged my leg. He looked up at me, his giant eyes behind his glasses blinking at me with concern, and said, “Are you okay, Daddy?”

I smiled as tears blurred my vision.

Jo laughed harder. Bad thing.

I bent down and picked up my son and held him to me fiercely. It was a hug that I knew he wouldn’t understand, but one that expressed how I felt.

It was a hug that said I was sorry for missing out on the first five years of his life. I was sorry he had to spend so much time not knowing his father. But it also said I was ready to be there for him now and forever. He hugged me back, little hands resting at the nape of my neck, and asked if I was going to live with them.

And now, a month later, I was living with them. Our family was together finally, and I was ready to take on all challenges, big and small, that were sure to come our way.

Today’s challenge: throwing a birthday party for a five-year-old.

The house was decked out in streamers and balloons. A Spiderman ice cream cake was tucked in the back of the freezer. Every surface was covered in either a red or blue dollar store tablecloth. High surfaces, that were out of reach of groping child hands, hosted adult appetizers: brie and baguette with a jalapeño jelly spread, hummus and chips, guacamole, and Caprese salad skewers.

I felt like a parent. It was strange.

Guests started arriving at one in the afternoon. Jo and I greeted them at the door and took their coats as their children rushed into the house and straight out to the backyard where I had surprised Sam with a bouncy castle.

Some parents stayed to socialize, while others took advantage of responsible adults looking after their children for the afternoon and took off.

Rosie and Ryan showed up with their arms full of gift bags. We set them down in front of the fireplace, and Ryan and I hugged as Rosie and Jo went to the kitchen to crack open some beers.

“How’s it going?” Ryan grinned, clapping me on the back as we pulled apart. “Where’s the little monster?”

“He’s out in the yard.” I chuckled, sliding my hands into the pockets of my jeans. I nodded at the fireplace, which was overflowing with gifts. “I always thought this was excessive nonsense to spoil a kid like this. Then I found out I had one of my own, and well, chaos ensued.”

“How many are from you?” Ryan asked with an arched eyebrow as his gaze roamed over nearly twenty gifts.

“Seven.”

“Seven!” Ryan exclaimed, leaning away from me like I had contracted an infectious disease. “That’s overkill, man. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. He’s the best kid out there. But maybe save that kind of thing for Christmas?”

“Jo said the same thing,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “But I guess I felt like I needed to make up for missing the last four birthdays.”

“Fair.” Ryan shrugged. “More than fair actually. That kind of makes sense. Come on. I want to go see my nephew.”

We went out to the backyard where Sam was bouncing in the blow-up castle alongside four of his friends from his Kindergarten class. The yard was filled with the sounds of giggles and the motor pumping continuous air into the castle.

Ryan poked his head in and playfully tried to grab the kids’ ankles, who shrieked gleefully and bounded away from him.

Jo came out and wrapped her hand around my waist. She rested her head on my shoulder, as she always did now, and we stood watching our son play with his friends and his immature uncle.

Rosie came up on my other side and shook her head. “Why am I so attracted to him?”

We laughed, and Ryan peered back at us over his shoulder. “What are you lot laughing about?”

“Nothing,” we all said in unison.

“Hey, Dad!” Sam waved his arms over his head at me to get my attention. He had it. “Watch this!” I watched as he leaped from corner to corner and performed what he probably thought was a flip but turned into a summersault. I applauded, cheered him on, and then coordinated a friendly competition amongst the kids over who could leap the farthest inside the bouncy castle.

Sam won, of course. He was my son.

Sam was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. I kissed him on the head and tiptoed out of his room, avoiding that one squeaky floorboard under the right corner of his galaxy-printed rug so as not to wake him. I left the door open a small crack because he didn’t like the pitch dark, and I went out to the living room where Jo was pulling streamers down from the ceiling and stuffing them into a black garbage bag.

Her hair was curled but up in a ponytail. The afternoon had been a whirlwind, and she’d only managed to leave it down for the first hour. Her makeup wasn’t as bright and precise as it had been before the party started, and yet she still looked beautiful to me. She straightened when she caught me watching her from the hallway.

“So that’s what a five-year-old’s birthday is like, huh?” I asked, crossing my arms and leaning one shoulder against the doorframe.

Jo grinned and nodded and then resumed her tireless effort of tidying up. “Yep. Crazy, isn’t it? I hear it only gets worse as they get older.”

“Leave the mess for the morning,” I said. “Let’s go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

Jo blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. “I don’t want to wake up to a mess.”

I went to her and took the bag out of her hands. Tossing it aside, I held her to me and kissed the tip of her nose. “I wasn’t asking.”

“You know, you’re not the boss in this house. I am.”

“I’m not disagreeing. But every now and then, the boss needs a break. She needs to let someone else take the reins.” I took her hand and started pulling her out of the living room, down the hall, and into our bedroom. I closed the door behind us and turned back to her.

She was wearing jeans, as per usual, and a white T-shirt. I moved toward her and pulled her shirt over her head. She stood still, chin tilted up so she could look at me, and smiled softly when I undid her jeans.

Soon, she was standing before me in nothing but a matching lace lingerie set.

“Someone was already planning this, weren’t they?” I asked coyly as I rested my hand on her hip and pulled her close.

“Maybe.”

She worked my shirt off next. She took her time about it, pulled it over my head, and let it fall to the floor. Then she began running her fingers up my stomach, tracing the line up from my belly button to my chest. Her hands splayed out across my chest to glide over my shoulders. She hugged herself to me, and I wrapped my arms around her as we collided with a deep kiss.

God, I loved this woman.

And I loved the son she had given me.

I lifted her and carried her to the bed. Our lips never parted. I lowered her down slowly, until she lay beneath me. Then I worked her panties down. She watched me as I straightened above her and undid my jeans. I stepped out of them and then my boxers and lowered myself down on top of her once more to kiss her neck and chest.

Her fingers stroked my hair and roamed down my back as she opened her legs for me to nestle myself between. She lifted her hips to guide me inside her, but I paused.

“Let me grab a condom,” I said, my voice already hoarse with need. Jo gave me a curious smile. I didn’t know what it meant. “What?”

Her smile broadened. “Maybe next time. But tonight I want to feel you inside me. All of you.”

“You’re sure?” I asked, refraining from plunging into her right then and there.

She nodded, and I eased inside. She sighed contentedly, wrapped her arms around my neck, and pulled me down to her to kiss me as we cascaded into bliss together.

“If every birthday party is like this,” I whispered in her ear, “I think we should make more babies.”

Jo’s giggling was music to my ears.