Ross spent much of the rest of the morning sitting in the living room watching home improvement shows with Puck. He was quiet and reflective. Puck wondered if he disliked the choice of entertainment.

He asked Ross if he ever helped anyone with home improvement projects. “Did your parents work on your house? Have you ever helped hang drywall? Have you painted walls?”

“I mowed the lawn. Does that count? My parents were experts at picking up the telephone when something needed fixing. They didn’t do much of anything on their own, but it wasn’t necessary either. We mostly lived on base, and there was always somebody to call. They taught me how to hang pictures on the wall.”

“Wow, I think the only time my dad ever called a repair person was the plumber he called when one of the pipes exploded in the basement. At least, that was true while Mom was still around. He got lazy after.”

“After?”

“She ran off with another guy when I was twelve. I hear from her once a year now at Christmas. I told her about Addie, and she wants to see her next Christmas. Dad grabbed a red-eye flight from California the night Miranda died and stayed through the funeral.”

“Wow. She won’t see her granddaughter before then?”

“I know.” Puck hung his head and rocked Addie in his arms. “I want to yell, ‘See her now, or you never need to see her,’ but she is Addie’s grandmother. It’s tough.”

“What about her other grandparents?”

Puck looked up. “Seriously? Where do I start? Miranda’s parents are two incredible pieces of work that deserve each other.”

Puck wasn’t sure how much to share. He’d been stung more than once by someone questioning the integrity of his stories. His buddy Gil didn’t believe him until he met Ellen one day. Gil said, “They can’t be that bad. Their daughter loved you.” After a five-minute conversation, Gil shook his head. “Oh, my God.”

Ross asked, “Have they seen Addie?”

“They don’t want anything to do with Addie or me. I think if Miranda was still around, they might want to see her, but with their daughter gone, they don’t care about Addie either.”

It was difficult telling Ross about such complicated relationships. He was still mostly a stranger. Fortunately, for the first time since the tragedy in the hospital, Puck was able to speak about Miranda without choking up.

Ross said, “And she’s such a good baby. You’re a great father. It’s obvious from the minute you look into Addie’s eyes. She has your eyes. I assume you know that.”

Puck grinned. He’d never known a gay guy well. He knew a few in high school, but they were only acquaintances. They seemed to hang together in a small pack and wanted nothing to do with Puck and his friends.

Ross was genuine, and he was a nice guy. He seemed able to drop the craziness of the kisses, too. A friend like Gil would have kicked his ass to the curb. “Thank you for that, Ross. I really appreciate it.”

“It was amazing to walk back into the house and see you talking to Addie while you watched TV. It was perfect. I…” Ross choked up again and reached up to wipe at his eye. “I loved seeing it.”

The tears made Puck uncomfortable. His dad never cried. He didn’t cry about anything even the day his wife walked out the door. Puck followed suit most of the time, but he lost it when Miranda said, “Goodbye.”

“I had a question. When I was out in the garage, something was missing.”

Puck tensed. He often worried about someone breaking into the house or garage. “Something is missing?”

“You wear those motorcycle gloves. Where’s your bike?”

The tension in Puck’s shoulders dissolved. “Oh, that. I haven’t had a bike since before Miranda got pregnant. We were a little short on a couple of bills, so I sold it. It was hard to see it guy, but it helped get us through a few hard months.”

“Do you miss it?”

Puck shrugged. “I guess I miss being out away from the rest of the world sometimes.” He paused for a moment before changing the subject. “What do you like to watch? We can change to something else if you want to. I get addicted to these shows about houses. Someday I’ll own one that I can work on.”

“During the day? I’m almost never home during the day. I don’t even know what’s on. We can watch whatever you like.”

Puck switched to a show about home sales. He said, “It doesn’t take long to see what’s on when you’re stuck at home for days with the kid. Everything turns into a mindless routine. This show, that show, and then Addie cries. Feed, diaper, play, and then this show and that show. Some days it was noon, and I didn’t know where the morning went. I did it on auto-pilot. That happened over and over for eight weeks. In one way it was good. It kept me from thinking about other things.”

When the morning wore down, Ross ate a lunch of two slices of pizza and asked, “Can we make a grocery list? I’ll go shopping. What do you like to eat other than pizza and cold cereal?”

Puck didn’t like making lists. He went to the grocery store and grabbed what drew his attention. If pork chops were on sale, he could throw them in a pan and come up with something worth eating.

Most weeks Puck didn’t need a lot more than hamburger, bananas and breakfast cereal. Ross wanted a plan. An hour later, Puck threw up his hands, “Okay, fine, just get what’s on your list. I can’t talk about this anymore.”

“Are the two of you okay? I’ll go take care of this.”

Puck was more than ready for Ross to go to the store. The comfortable atmosphere he enjoyed earlier quickly disintegrated amid the raft of questions about eating. Ross said, “This is healthier. You can just put this in place of that, and you’ve got a great meal.” He was losing sight of territorial boundaries. Puck was happy to grab whatever was in the fridge or the cabinet and make a meal even if that meant eating ravioli out of a can.

As Ross pulled out of the driveway, Puck said to Addie, “Your mom was easier. She knew what I liked and didn’t like. She didn’t ask a bunch of questions. She cooked, and I ate what she put on the table.”

After he settled Addie back into the bassinet, Puck thought about the kisses again. He finally had time to think without having to pay attention to a long string of questions. He wanted to cringe every time he remembered saying that the kisses felt right. They did feel good, but there was no way they could be right. He was straight, and that wasn’t going to change. He wasn’t going to run around kissing men for the rest of his life.

Surely, the kiss was about loneliness. That was the logical explanation. What Puck needed was more time with friends. He needed time with the kind of buddies who could give him a bro hug and share a beer. He didn’t need kisses and cuddling.

By the time Ross returned with four plastic bags of groceries, Puck had worked himself into a ball of frustration over the two kisses. He said, “Honestly they didn’t mean anything. I want you to know they didn’t mean anything. I’m just lonely. I’m not gay. I’m straight. I like you, but not like that. I’m sorry if I’m disappointing you. I was a fucking mess last night. You understand that, don’t you?”

Ross hauled the bags up to the kitchen counter. “What happened while I was gone? Are you feeling okay? That’s a whole lot to throw at me all at once. Do we need to talk? Can I at least put the groceries away for you?”