“Come on, boys! They’ll be here in just a few minutes.”

“Dad. Calm down. We’ve met Christine before,” Reece says with a roll of his eyes.

They don’t understand the significance of tonight. Hell, maybe Christine doesn’t either. But I served Heather divorce papers today, and now that the ball is rolling, I’m not willing to back off on setting my sights on something I want.

And I want Christine.

Not even knowing my boys, she worries over them.

Asks about them.

Wants to know what’s happening in their lives.

And me not knowing Bri, I feel the same.

We talk every day.

Multiple times.

I know that Bri is looking at colleges near home and that she and Grady are growing closer by the day.

I know that she wants to go to school for Communications and is both nervous and excited about the change, much like Christine is.

Christine knows that the boys play basketball and knows how their season is going.

She knows how they’re doing in school, asks how tests or certain projects and assignments went after I had mentioned them.

She knows their favorite foods and what vlogger they’re currently following and, even though they’re boys and she only has a girl, knows that puberty is a son of a bitch to deal with, especially as a single parent, and helps me understand that my kids were not, in fact, abducted by aliens.

But it’s more than just our mutual single parenthood that has me wanting to find out everything I can about her, and get to know her better, and… yeah, eventually really get to know her better.

It’s the fact that she’s kind and gentle and her genuine smile lights up my day.

It’s the happiness that radiates from her.

And it doesn’t hurt that she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.

So, yeah.

I want more with her.

I want everything with her.

But I’m not jumping into anything.

What we have already is great.

I’ll take the rest as slowly as we need.

But when those divorce papers are signed, I’ll have a hard time not speeding that timeline along.

I won’t do a thing until the divorce is final, though. Even if our marriage ended long ago, I won’t do that to Christine. Or me, for that matter. I’m not a cheater and having the ink dried on the papers is just something that I need to have before I move that one final step forward.

I blink at the boys and look around the house.

The house we’ve turned into our home over the last few months.

No sign of Heather anywhere.

They won’t let me put up any pictures of their mom.

Tess came over and helped make it, in her words, not a stinky man cave, but otherwise it’s all us.

Our living room is simple.

Chocolate brown oversized leather furniture.

Large flat screen TV with a sound system set up.

Video game console on the rustic wooden TV stand I built below.

On the wall, there’s a collage of pictures of the boys.

In the corner is the stand for the aquarium that houses the boys’ turtle, Harry. How ironic his name is, is not lost on anyone, trust me.

Something Heather always said no to, but they had been wanting for years.

Their wish came true on Christmas morning, and the joy on their faces was worth it. I had been dreading that day since their birthday came and went without a single call from their mother.

Having Christine help me get the final touches of Christmas gifts ready helped more than I think she would ever know.

Christmas Day proved that they were moving on when they were happy, laughing. Despite her absence. When neither of them asked for Heather.

And I could do the same.

“Yo! Dad!” I hear Aidan’s voice interrupt my thoughts, laughing at me.

“What’s up?”

“What’s up with the weird looks you’ve been getting on your face lately?”

I decide not to tell him that on more than one occasion they’ve caught me daydreaming about Christine.

“You ready?” I ask them both instead.

“Yup.”

That’s when I really look at them. I do a double take and have to press my lips together to suppress the laughter threatening to bubble up out of me.

Reece has on khaki pants and a tucked-in button-down shirt, his hair gelled up with what looks like an entire bottle of hair gel. The strands of his dark blond hair sticking up in what I assume he thinks is stylish but because of the amount of gel looks more like he stuck his finger in a light socket.

Aidan looks similar, but his hair doesn’t have the same amount of gel in it. Probably because Reece used it all up.

And then I get a whiff of them.

“Boys? Did you happen to put on some cologne?”

Aidan nods, but Reece shakes his head. “It’s not cologne. It’s body spray.”

“Is there any left?” I dare ask.

He shrugs. “I think so.”

Not reassuring at all.

“You know that you don’t need to use a lot, right? A little bit goes a long way.”

“Right. But we figured we didn’t want to stink for Christine and Bri.”

Mission not accomplished there.

“Just to say, boys, you may have overdone it. And the gel” —I lift my chin in Reece’s direction— “is a little much.”

“We smell?”

“Not in the B.O. kind of way but…”

Reece punches Aidan in the shoulder. “I told you it was too much! Ugh! Why do I always listen to you?”

“It’s not my fault! It’s body spray. It’s meant to go over your body. Duh!”

“But with just a small amount,” I remind them.

“And the hair gel thing was all on you.” Aidan glares at his brother.

“What are we supposed to do now? They’re gonna be here any minute, and they’re gonna think we look stupid, and smell stupid, and act stupid…”

I cut off Reece’s rant and ensuing panic attack moment with a hand in the air.

“Boys. Calm yourselves. Go throw your clothes in the laundry room, take a quick shower and scrub down. One of you take your bathroom, the other take mine so you get it over with quickly. Then get into some normal clothes. T-shirt. Joggers. Jeans. Hoodie. Whatever. They’ll love you more if you’re yourselves, got me?”

They nod eagerly and both jet off to do as told, leaving a cloud of body spray in their wake. I have half a mind to open a window to air the house out but decide to check on supper instead.

I’m admittedly not the best cook but being a single dad of two growing boys, boys who are active and can’t live off frozen food and boxed meals, I’m learning. Slowly but surely getting this whole cooking thing down.

I check the chili, one of the few things I make that I’m proud of, and double check the cornbread in the oven isn’t burning.

I had the boys help me set the table before their run-in with a gallon of body spray and hair gel. I place the bowls of shredded cheese, diced onion, and crackers on the table while I wait, impatiently, for the doorbell to ring.

“Better?” I glance over at the sound of the Aidan’s voice, who looks like himself again, and over to Reece and smile.

“Much.”

And then the doorbell rings. Their eyes widen, and they both take off to answer the door at the same time.

“Welcome!” Aidan shouts, and I chuckle.

Five minutes ago, they were in panic mode over what they looked like for Christine and Bri, and now they’re welcoming them with open arms.

Not that I mind the change.

“Boys!” I hear Bri’s voice cry out.

“Hey, Bri,” they say in unison.

Knowing my boys. My fourteen-year-old boys, there was a reason they were so focused on how they looked — and smelled — for tonight’s festivities.

And the one who just greeted them is it.

I chuckle to myself as I round the corner and stop in my tracks.

In the doorway of my home stands Christine, an arm on each of their shoulders, looking up at them and smiling.

She’s short enough that they’re both already taller than her by a few inches. She looks gorgeous as usual, her dark hair down. She’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a big chunky mustard yellow sweater, Bri wearing something very similar, but her sweater light gray. They both step out of their boots and continue greeting the boys.

Aidan and Reece are looking at Christine with giant smiles on their faces, and she’s looking at them in adoration.

I hadn’t seen those looks shared between them and Heather in so long, I forgot what it was like.

And it’s in that brief glance that I know I won’t stop pursuing this for our future.

I want this for them.

For me.

For all of us.