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Dean’s back in town. I feel a flutter of excitement as I see his text pop up on my phone letting me know he’s landed.

We’ve talked every night this week and they have been long, deep conversations about our lives, our families, our ambitions. We’ve also had the most amazing phone sex. It’s been like foreplay; all week long my desire for him has been building. He's so unabashed in his want of me. He tells me, in clear detail how he wants me. Where he wants me, and what he's doing to himself as he imagines tasting me.

I’ve grown bolder, too, and every night when I slip my fingers into my panties and bring myself to orgasm with only the sound of his voice and the images he evokes, I feel like another link in the chains I’ve bound myself with have fallen off.

I’ve also been working on getting his party planned. I made some great headway with the venue, and I’ve paid a deposit for a trendy place called the Lofts at 600. It’s a gorgeous room. Hardwood floors, exposed brick, floor to ceiling windows that will give a great view of the capital at night. I’m meeting with caterers this week and had a great meeting with the lighting and sound people.

I'm nervous about how Cristal will view me in light of my relationship with Dean. It’s so new and we didn’t really talk about how we would handle this aspect of things, but I would rather her not know if it will make her uncomfortable. I add it to my list of things to talk with Dean about when I see him tonight.

I also have my meeting with Laila set up for Monday, and I want to be prepared. I have a website, I’ve filed my paperwork to register as an LLC, and I had a logo made so I can design my business cards.

I hum to myself as I stir the simmering pot on the stove while I go over my week. I'm making a very simple but delicious chicken marsala dish for dinner. I’ve invited Dean over to eat with my mother and Anthony.

I'm nervous about all of us sitting down at the same table again. It’s going to feel like old times but with my father gone and my son present.

I haven’t heard from Kevin, whatever was so important last week clearly has lost its urgency. I'm glad, I wasn’t looking forward to talking to him.

“Mommy! I drew your friend a picture!” Anthony shouts as he runs into the kitchen. He’s waving a piece of paper in his fist and is beaming from ear to ear.

I put down my wooden spoon and kneel down so we are eye to eye with each other.

“Look, it’s me and you in a spaceship! We’re going to discover the galaxy.”

He points at the barely recognizable people in the picture he’s drawn. His version of me has blue hair and pink teeth. He sees himself as a person with green spiky hair and a big blue grin. I love it.

“It’s amazing, baby. He’s going to love it.” I stand back up and start stirring again.

“Mommy, I’m hungry, can I have a snack?” he asks as he wanders over to the pantry.

“No, sir! We are eating in about thirty minutes and you’ll ruin your appetite.” I smile as I anticipate his groan of protest.

“Mommy! Please. I’ll have one of my Rice Krispies Treats.” He begins to negotiate.

“We don’t have Rice Krispies Treats, babe.” I smile at him over my shoulder. He has a very severe soy allergy and they have it as the main ingredient, so I have banned them from my house.

“Yes, we do. Rachael bought me a bunch last weekend, they’re in my . . . oops.” I have stopped stirring and look at him.

His eyes fill with tears as he looks up at me. “It was supposed to be a secret.” He wails as he looks at me.

I feel anger, hot and quick rising in my chest. I keep my face neutral as I stoop down to him again.

“Oh, honey. You know we don’t keep secrets from each other. But Rachael is new and so maybe she doesn’t know,” I say to him, trying to soothe him and keep my own fury at bay.

“But she will be mad at me, Mommy. She told me not to tell anyone.” He cries and I see red.

I take a deep breath and then pull him into my arms. “You’re not in trouble. She won’t be mad at you. She made a mistake, and she probably already knows it.” I pat his shaking shoulders as I plan my conversation with Kevin.

“Can you go upstairs and get your backpack for me, sweetie? I need to see what’s in it and get rid of the Rice Krispies Treats. You know why you can’t eat them, right?”

I have made sure he knows all of the things he can’t eat and he also knows the potential side effects if he does eat them.

“Yes, Mommy. They would make my tummy feel really bad,” he says woefully before he pulls away and heads up the stairs to his room.

As soon as he's gone, I pull out my phone and text Kevin.

Me: I need to talk to you about Anthony. I’ll call you tomorrow.

He responds right away.

Kevin: What’s the matter with Anthony. I can talk now.

Me: I can’t talk now. Nothing is wrong with him, no thanks to you. Tomorrow.

And then I turn my phone off. Dean will be here any minute and I’ve got just enough time to take a shower. Anthony comes back with his backpack and I take the offending snacks out. He pouts as he leaves the kitchen.

My mother is still getting ready, so I turn everything off, check the table setting one last time and run upstairs.

Ten minutes later, I’m dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, coming back downstairs, I know Dean is early and my mother is entertaining him.

I walk into the room and find Dean on the floor, shoes off, sitting with Anthony looking at a pile of his drawings.

“These are great, little man. You drew them all?” Dean is praising Anthony.

“Yes, I did! I’ve got more upstairs!” he declares, his voice full of delight and then he jumps up and starts to turn and leave the room when he sees me.

“Mommy! You’re finally here. Dean really likes my pictures. He wants to see more,” he says as he races past me on his way up the stairs.

Dean and I lock eyes and my mother’s presence is the only thing stopping me from running to him. He looks delicious and my eyes take in their fill, as he does the same from across the room. I can feel the crackle in the air between us as his smile spreads, and he stands up. We just stare at each other for a moment.

My mother coughs and breaks our reverie. I look at her, and she’s smiling at me.

“Hi, Mom. Sorry I wasn’t down when he got here.”

“Why are you sorry? I’m not. It gave me a chance to talk to him before you came and stole his attention.” She winks and then passes me on the way to the kitchen. “I was just going get some wine. I’ll be back.”

“Oh, no, I’ll do that.” I stop her. “Sit and relax.”

“I’ve been relaxing all day, you’ve been on your feet cooking. Go sit down.” She pushes me farther into the room and leaves.

When Dean and I are alone he walks over to me in four ground eating strides and before I can even say anything, his lips are on mine. It feels as good as a breeze after standing in stifling still heat. I immediately melt into the kiss. It is an urgent hello more than a demand, but my mouth opens under his and I groan when I feel his tongue touch mine.

We stand there, kissing each other, my hands around his neck, his at my waist. These lips of his, supple and smooth, know mine. They were made to mate, and they fit together so well. The kiss goes on for what could be minutes, or days, until I hear Anthony’s voice, tiny and confused.

“Mommy?”

We jump apart and my focus is immediately on my son. He's standing there with his binder of drawings in his hand. His little face is full of confusion.

“Mommy, why are you kissing him?” He's looking at Dean with a wary eye.

“Anthony, baby. Mommy . . .” I have no clue what to say. I feel like I’ve been hit between the eyes with a brick. I look over my shoulder at Dean.

“Is he my daddy now, Mommy?” He points at Dean as his lower lip starts to wobble.

Dean bends down in front of Anthony. “Hey, buddy. Mommy is kissing me because we are friends and sometimes when mommy makes a new friend, she kisses him to tell him she likes him. It doesn’t mean your daddy isn’t your daddy anymore. He will always be your daddy.” He reaches out to touch Anthony’s head and I gather my thoughts.

“Anthony, you know how Daddy lives with Rachael now?” I ask him. He nods slowly.

“That doesn’t mean she's your mommy, okay? She's Daddy’s friend who will help take care of you when you’re with Daddy.” I feel like I'm floundering and not making sense, but Anthony brightens up and says excitedly, “Is Dean moving in with us? Like Rachael lives with Daddy?”

I have to stifle my gasp of shock and also control my urge to laugh. “No, baby, he's not moving in with us. We are just friends. he's here for dinner.”

“Oh, okay . . .” he says as he screws his little face up and looks back and forth between the two of us.

“Well, can I still show you my pictures?” he asks Dean, his expression tentative.

“Absolutely. It’s been my favorite part of tonight.” He takes the folder from Anthony’s hand and walks over to the couch with Anthony following him.

I decide to go to check on my mother and the food. “I bet. Kissing looks gross.” I hear Anthony return just as I turn the corner into the hallway that leads to my kitchen.

My mother is leaning on the counter drinking wine and staring out of the bay window over the sink.

“Hey, you okay?” I ask as I grab a glass and pour myself some wine.

“Yes, just giving you two some alone time.” She sounds distracted and slightly wistful.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I'm just glad you finally have something like this.” She touches my arm and gives me a sidelong glance. “And it makes me miss your father,” she finishes, sighing and tucking her chin into her neck.

“Oh, Mom. I know we never talk about it, but I know you miss him. I do, too.”

She looks at me sharply. “Do you?” Her face searches mine before I see her eyes soften with empathy and understanding.

“I know how angry Addie is with him, but you were older when he left, you know. I'm sorry I haven’t been there for you to talk about this. It’s hard to think about, honestly. It’s like half of my soul is gone, and I just don’t understand how or why,” she whispers while looking out of the window again. Her voice is laced with so much sadness I feel tears threaten my own eyes.

“Aren’t you even the slightest bit angry at him?” I ask her, because I don’t understand her lack of anger when she talks about him.

“I know everyone thinks I'm a fool, but I know your father. I know if he left us it wasn’t because he wanted to be rich and free more than he wanted to be with us. Something happened. I don’t know what, but I know, in my heart, he didn’t leave me. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. The love we had . . . have is something you only get once in your life.”

Her voice has risen in volume and her eyes have regained their focus. This is obviously something she has thought about for a long time.

“I know they are looking for him; I hope they find him because I think he will want to come home.”

“If they find him he will be arrested. He will be tried, and he will go to jail. The money was in your account and then it was gone. They have video of him going to the bank to withdraw it all a day before he left. They have the van rental, they have his trail until it disappeared near the border. There was nothing to indicate he did anything but run.” I recite this robotically. I know it like I know my own name.

She looks at me and shakes her head as if to clear fog from it. “I’m sorry, Dean is here for dinner. Let’s not bring all this up.”

I look toward the living room where I hear peals of laughter from Anthony and sigh. Talk about bad timing. This is a conversation I’ve been waiting for so long to have.

“Okay, but we can talk more later?”

She pats my hand and starts toward the living room “Yes, honey, we can.”

---

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“This is delicious, Red.”

Dean smiles up at me halfway through dinner. The chicken came out perfectly and everyone’s been busy eating and conversation has been light at the table.

“Thank you. It’s actually an old recipe of my mother’s.” I look at her and smile warmly. She's a wonderful cook, always has been, and even though she cooks a lot of dishes from her native Ghana, she also has a wide repertoire of dishes from all over the world.

“Well, then my compliments to you, Mrs. Dennis.” He smiles at her.

“When Milly was first born and I decided to stay home, learning to cook different dishes was one of my biggest projects. This was actually a favorite of their dad’s, too.”

He starts to cough, and I jump up to beat his back while my mother fills his water glass.

“Are you okay?” I ask him as his coughing subsides. Anthony is staring wide-eyed like he's watching a scene in a movie.

“Yes, sorry,” he says between coughs. “Something went down the wrong way.” He clears his throat and touches my arm which is now resting on his shoulder. “I’m okay. Really.” He looks imploringly at me, so I sit down.

“You were saying? This was a favorite of your husband’s?” Dean prompts my mother.

She looks at him wistfully, but then smiles and continues.

“Yes, he loved it. In fact, when he was in the mood for it, he would hint by bringing home a bottle of the marsala wine and leaving it sitting on the counter top where I could see it.” She laughs and then blushes. “Oh, excuse me. You probably don’t want to hear me reminisce about him.”

“No, I don’t mind. I was very close to my dad, and since he died, my mother and I have drifted apart. I don’t get to hear anyone tell stories about my own father . . .” He sighs a little and then looks at us. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be maudlin,” he apologizes.

“You’re not, and telling stories about your dad can be your thing.” She smiles at him, and I feel a warmth blossom in my chest. This is my mother. She's such a nurturer and she always knows what to say.

“I’d rather hear stories about Milly, actually. The college years. What I missed,” Dean says with a smile that is positively rakish. I note, though, that he's changing the subject. I let it go. I understand how sad and hard it is for him to talk about his father.

“Oh no, you wouldn’t. There is nothing to tell,” I exclaim. “Anyway, aren’t you the slightest bit curious about the party I'm planning for you?”

“Yes, I am. I just didn’t think you’d want to talk about work tonight. But, if you want to tell me, I'm all ears,” he says as he takes another sip of his wine.

I fill him in on the venue and the progress I’ve made in getting the event planned. I start to tell him about the guest list Cristal sent over to me for a head count when Anthony interrupts.

“This is boring. I want Mommy stories instead and Picture Man can tell us his stories, too!”

We all look at him as he clasps his hand over his mouth.

“Who’s Picture Man, Ant?” my mother asks him..

He looks at all of us wide-eyed, his eyes resting on me for a long moment. And then they fill with tears. I get up and walk over to him, crouch down, and put my arm around him.

“Anthony, who is Picture Man?” I ask him quietly.

He looks at me and shakes his head, but lifts one tremulous finger and points it at Dean.

Dean doesn’t look surprised, so I turn on him.

“Care to tell me what that means?” I ask him, knowing I sound as concerned as I look.

“I have no clue, Red. He called me that the first time I met him, but didn’t say why.” He looks at Anthony, his eyes full of compassion and says, “Sorry, bud.”

“What is going on here?” I demand and stand up.

Anthony grabs my hand and looks at me with his big beautiful eyes.

“Mommy, I’m sorry. I was looking for candy. I looked in your drawer and saw that picture you have of him in there. I didn’t know who he was, but it’s in your secret drawer with all of your secret things I’m not supposed to see.” He looks down at his lap.

And my relief washes over me. That is the most benign explanation he could have given at this point. I look up from him and my mother and Dean are now watching me, waiting for me to explain.

“It’s okay, baby. Don’t feel scared about telling me anything, okay?”

He nods, I kiss my son on the head and I walk back to my seat and sit down. And I give my mea culpa.

“I have a picture of Dean and I that I keep in a drawer by my bed. I’ve always kept it there, and I guess he found it and recognized you. Since he couldn’t ask who you were, he assigned you a name. Picture Man,” I say and smile at all of them. I look at Dean, but he’s standing up.

“Dean?” I start to stand up, too. He doesn’t respond, but leaves the room and walks straight back to my kitchen.

This is the last thing I expected. I dash after him.

As soon as I walk through the swinging door that divides my kitchen from the dining room, I feel a pair of hands grab my waist and push against the wall.

Dean has the fiercest look in his eyes, and I'm totally confused.

“I just needed to kiss you in a way that I couldn’t kiss you in front of your mother and son.” He growls and he lays a kiss on me that curls my toes and makes me wish he was staying the night with me.

We walk back to the table together and sit down.

“You okay, Ant Man?” he asks

Anthony nods and smiles a little weakly.

“So, how about some Mom and Picture Man stories?” Dean says to him and his smile brightens immediately.

My mother shoots me a knowing look while laughing. “Milly, you’ve been overruled. Just sit back and enjoy it.”

I gasp and feign annoyance. “Fine! Gang up on me.”

Dean reaches across the table to hold my hand, while he says with a wink and a smile, “Get used to it, Red.”