Later that afternoon, after three separate rounds of extraordinarily vigorous sex, a lunch of leftover pizza, and a shower which had almost deteriorated in to a fourth round of sex, Abraham and I stood outside the main building of the school waiting for Dolly and Conway. Kitty was in the library catching up on homework from the summer and Tammy was at her beloved cheerleading practice. Dana had promised to drop both of them off at the house before dinner and I’d volunteered to do carpool duties next week.

If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be setting up carpool schedules and picking up kids and marking the next Parent-Teacher Association meeting on the wall calendar in my home office, I would have called them a liar. And then I would have asked them what drug they were holding and if they were in the mood to share.

And yet here I was, doing all of those things and doing them with women I’d spent most of my teenage years hating. And somehow, I’d stumbled in to a relationship with someone who seemed tailor-made for me and who, unless I was way off on my judgement of his character, loved the kids I’d wound up with as much as I did.

This might be as close to happy as I’d been without the influence of alcohol in a long, long time.

Almost as soon as I had the thought, a chill ran up my spine and I shivered, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Abraham glanced over, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me against him. “Cold?”

“Somebody walked over my grave.” I choked out a laugh, leaning my head against his shoulder. “Or at least that’s what my mama would have said. A little morbid, now that I’m thinking about it.”

“Old Southern sayings usually are.” He propped his chin on the top of my head and sighed. “I’m not ashamed to say that if Dolly comes out and starts weeping and wailing, I’m leaving you alone with her and me and Conway are walking back to the house.”

“I’d call you a coward but since you handled her this morning I guess that’s an even trade.” I shifted until I was able to hook an arm around his waist, doing my best to ignore the people looking at us and pointing and whispering. “Do we have some sort of neon sign overhead screaming ‘We had hot, sweaty, dirty sex’? Because that’s the only reason I can think of for all the attention we’re getting.”

“It’s because we’re both so pretty.” He leaned back, placing one finger under my chin and tilting my head up until he could brush his lips over mine. “Or rather I’m pretty and you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“You’re gonna make me blush if you keep that up.”

“You’re already blushing.”

“Am not.” I was pretty sure my cheeks were hot because of the sun overhead and not because I was embarrassed. I squared my shoulders and huffed out a breath when the bell rang. “Okay. It’s go-time.”

Almost immediately children of all sizes began to pour out of the main building. Unlike larger school districts, which tended to stagger start times and dismissal times, all the kids in Cotton Creek started school at exactly eight in the morning and got out at exactly three in the afternoon. According to Beth, it made it easier for parents to set up childcare options, whether it involved older teenagers or simply restructuring their own workday.

As far as I could see, it was really an excuse to watch a little organized chaos.

“Where are they?” I rose up on my tiptoes, doing my best to see through the veritable sea of tiny humanity flooding the sidewalk and the front lawn of the school. “There’s not like a back entrance to this place or something, is there?”

“You know there isn’t.” Abraham patted my shoulder absently, scanning the crowd himself. “Maybe the teachers hold the younger classes a few extra minutes so they don’t get tramped in the hallway.”

“Then maybe they should have said something so we’re not standing out here wondering if some lunatic wandered in and snatched up our kids and wandered back out.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling and opening my eyes, not surprised to find Abraham staring at me, clearly struggling to suppress his laughter. “Okay, I realize that was a little dramatic but I’m sorry, okay? I’m feeling a little dramatic at the moment.”

“And you wonder where Dolly gets it from.” He let out a tiny chuckle before swallowing it down, nodding toward the school entrance. “Calm down, tiger. They’re coming out right now.”

“Oh, thank you, baby Jesus.” I pushed off the car, nearly tripping over the curb in my haste, starting to rush up the sidewalk only to catch myself at the last second. Forcing myself to slow down, I pasted on a smile and planted my hands on my hips, waiting for them to come to me. “Hey, guys. How was your first day?”

Dolly sucked in a deep breath. Her lower lip quivered.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Abraham appeared next to me, kneeling down and all but jamming a finger in her face. “No waterworks. If something happened then we can talk about it but you’re not going to start crying.”

“Was somebody mean to you? Did they tease you?” Ignoring the very real possibility I might wind up with gum on my ass, I sat down on the sidewalk and pulled her down in to my lap. “Dolly, what happened?”

“She wanted pizza for lunch and today was fish stick day.” Conway smoothed down his dress, humming to himself. “I like fish sticks.”

“Eat them once a week for the next thirteen years and I can almost guarantee you’ll have a change of heart.” Brushing Dolly’s hair back from her face, I poked the tip of her nose with one finger. “As for you, ma’am, I understand the disappointment. I hate fish sticks, too, but believe me when I say my first reaction isn’t to start crying.”

She gave a huge sniff, rubbing the knuckles of one hand against her suspiciously dry eyes. “But I hate fish sticks.”

“Something we’ll remember when it comes to dinner choices but it’s still no excuse for tears.” Abraham shifted Dolly from my lap to his and even though I would have sworn I was immune there was a good chance my ovaries—as well as those of every straight, childbearing woman in a one hundred yard line of sight—went in to overdrive. He cuddled her against him, stroking a hand down her back as she tucked her head in the crook of his neck. “So you don’t like fish sticks. That’s fine. On Mondays you can bring your lunch so you don’t have to even get in line and smell the fish. Deal?”

“Uh-huh.” Her voice wavered some but her eyes stayed dry. “Can we get ice cream on the way home?”

“Why don’t we wait and get ice cream later in the week, when we have a reason to celebrate?” Abraham rose, perching her on one hip, her backpack dangling from his free hand. Looking down at me, he said, “Maybe, if you ask your aunt nicely enough, we can stop at the pizza place and see if Sally is in the mood to whip you up a miniature version of one of her famous back to school specials.”

“Can we, Aunt Jeannie?” She looked just woebegone enough that the adult in me who knew indulging her would only reinforce the negative behavior stood no chance against the adult who’d hated fish sticks since I was her age. She sniffled, fiddling with the collar of Abraham’s shirt. “Please?”

“Sure.” I ran my fingers through Conway’s hair before taking his hand, relieved to note that not only was he in one piece but his dress was as well. I’d had my doubts the perky Miss Suzie Q would be able to run herd on twenty something five year olds but apparently she was made of sterner stuff than I’d given her credit for. “Since it’s the first day of school and all.”

––––––––

LATER THAT EVENING, I ignored the knock on my office door, running the sentence over and over in my mind, trying to figure out why it sounded wrong. Grammatically, it was on point but there was something about the delivery which left something to be desired. When whoever was on the other side of the door knocked again, more insistently this time, I pushed my glasses up to rest on my forehead and pinched the bridge of my nose. “What?”

The door opened and Conway slipped inside, padding across the oversized rug on his bare feet. Rounding the desk, he braced his chin on the chair arm and said, “Hi.”

“Hi.” More curious now than annoyed—because Conway wasn’t in the habit of doing things without a reason—I shifted my chair back and patted my knee, waiting until he climbed up in my lap before speaking. “What’s up? Do you have homework you have to do?”

“No.” He let out a giggling snort and shook his head. “We didn’t learn anything today. And I already know lots of stuff.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like my ‘ABC’s and how to count to one hundred and how to read and all my colors and—.”

“Got it—you know a lot of stuff.” Something I’d have to keep an eye on as the year progressed. If he was that far ahead of the other students in his class, it might be better if he skipped a grade. Turning back to the computer, I propped my chin on his head as I studied the screen. “Does your sister have homework?”

“Abraham already helped her.”

“Did he?” I squinted at the clock on the screen. “When did he leave for work?” And more importantly, why hadn’t he at least poked his head in and said good-bye?

And when the hell had I turned in to the type of woman who needed her boyfriend to tell her good-bye?

“He didn’t.” Conway picked up a pen, doodling absently on a piece of scratch paper. “He said he never opens the bar on the first day of school.”

“Which is either a very smart move or a very dumb one.” I highlighted the sentence in question, copying and pasting it on a blank page. “Have Tammy and Kitty made it home yet?”

“Uh-huh. They’re doing homework.”

“So all is right in our little world.” I chewed on my bottom lip until it started to ache. “Except for this fucking sentence.” I winced. “Sorry, language. Except for this darn sentence.”

“I know not to say bad words.” He leaned back against me, his little body surprisingly sturdy. For some reason I always thought of Conway as delicate, probably because of the dresses and the doll, but he was tougher than he looked. “What’s wrong with the sentence?”

“Do you ever read something and it just doesn’t sound right?” I waited until he nodded before continuing. “It’s like that.”

“Oh.” He nodded again. “That’s harder to fix.”

“Yes, it is.” But I had to figure out how to fix the fucking thing and get it and the rest of the edits back to Allison tonight so she could plug everything in tomorrow so the issue could go to press on Wednesday. “So, no homework, huh? Did you do anything interesting in school? Make any friends?”

“No, we just went over rules.” He shrugged. “And it’s too early to know if I made friends.”

“Are you sure you’re only five? Because sometimes I have my doubts.”

“Yes.” He giggled. “I don’t want to wear a dress tomorrow.”

“Did someone make fun of you?” I glanced down at him, my stomach twisting in doubts. “Did they call you names or—.”

“No.” He frowned. “We have P.E. tomorrow and I don’t want to get my dresses dirty.”

“P.E.?” I stared at him for a moment before comprehension dawned. “Physical education. Oh. Sorry, I’m out of practice with school acronyms. They’ll come back to me after a while.” Satisfied I didn’t need to go yell at some parent for having rude children, I went back to editing. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

“No.” He kicked his legs absently, picking up the pen and starting to doodle again. “Can I sit here with you while you work?”

“As long as you’re quiet and you let me work.”

Which was how Abraham found us, although by the time he pushed open the office door I’d finally managed to edit the damn sentence and had moved on to the rest of the article which, thankfully, didn’t make me want to break out a fifth of whiskey. Glancing over at him, I said, “Hey. I was wondering where you were. Conway said you weren’t opening the bar tonight.”

“I learned if you give parents a place to drink on the first night school is back in session, there are a lot of kids late to school the next day and I get a lot of phone calls about how I’m diluting the moral fiber of the community.” He plopped on the sofa I’d shoved under the window, tossing a few of the oversized pillows on the floor. “How long has he been asleep?”

“Hmm?” I looked down to find my nephew was, indeed, fast asleep, all but drooling on my shoulder. “I have no idea. I didn’t even know he was asleep.”

“It’s okay. I kept Dolly awake as long as possible but when she started getting weepy, I had Tammy give her a bath and then I put her to bed.” He stretched out on his side, sighing and closing his eyes. “Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind hitting the sheets myself. It’s been a long day.”

“Hmm.” It wasn’t that I wasn’t listening, because I was. But I was also trying to adjust the layout for the print version so I didn’t have two stories about fast food—specifically a food truck and a quick-service chain specializing in salads—running one behind the other. I doubted I was the only one who would draw the connection between the two but I wasn’t willing to take the risk. “If you want to go home, it’s okay. I’ve got a few more hours of work to do.”

He was silent for so long I thought he’d wound up passing out on the sofa. When I looked up, though, he was staring at me with a blank expression and hurt eyes. “Do you want me to go home?”

“I didn’t say that.” And if I was being honest, I couldn’t even remember if there’d been some sort of inflection in my voice which might have implied that was my intent. I tended to block out everything when I was working, to the point where I would insult people without even realizing it. “If you want to stay, then stay.”

“I don’t want to stay if you don’t want me to stay.”

“Abraham, I may be damn near cross-eyed from editing but I’m not so tired I can’t tell when someone is trying to start a fight.” Careful not to disturb Conway, I pushed away from the desk, leaning back in my chair. “If I wanted you to get the hell out, I would have told you so using those exact words. Now, did I use those words?”

“No.” His mouth turned down in something which looked suspiciously like a pout. “Doesn’t mean you weren’t thinking them.”

“In the past...eight days, has there ever been a time when I thought something and didn’t say it?” I waited a beat and when he didn’t answer, I said, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. So why don’t you tell me what the real problem is because something is telling me my off the cuff invitation isn’t the thing which has you spoiling for a fight.”

“I want to stay, okay?” The words burst out, his voice rising to an almost deafening level with the last word. He sat up, dragging his hands through his hair before covering his face. He sucked in a deep breath, holding it for long, long minutes before exhaling in a single shuddering sigh. “When you were in high school, what was the one thing you wanted more than anything?”

“To get the hell out of Cotton Creek.” I didn’t even have to think. I’d had the same dream since I was thirteen. “What did you want?”

“A family. A real one. Taking the kids to school and picking them up, doing homework, going to school events, to church, just... family stuff.” He dropped his hands between his knees and lifted his head, turning to face me. If I’d thought Dolly and her potential crying caused me to panic, it was nothing compared to the actual tears dripping down Abraham’s cheeks. “And it’s all here, all of it, and sometimes I think you’re just going to change your mind and then it’ll all be gone.”

“Abraham, I....” I trailed off, at a total loss as to what to say. So I clamped my teeth together and simply met his gaze with mine. After a moment, I said, “You fit.”

He scrubbed the back of his hand over his face. “What?”

“You fit—with me, with the kids... hell, with the house, which is kind of creepy since we hadn’t reconnected when I was picking out paint and tiles and furniture and crap.” I stood, balancing the still sleeping Conway on my hip and crossing the room to sit next to Abraham. Laying Conway on my lap, I took Abraham’s hand and said, “You fit, which is scary as hell for me because I’ve gone out of my way the past fifteen years to make sure I didn’t fit with anyone for longer than a night. But you—.”

“Fit.” He reached over, cupping my cheek with his hand, pressing his thumb to my lower lip. “I fit. And I’m yours. And you feel things. But you won’t say you love me.”

“If I gave you the words just because I knew they’d make you happy, you’d know it. We’d both know it. And part of you would always wonder if I’d said them because you wanted me to say them or if I said them because I meant them.” Risking Conway toppling to the floor, I leaned forward, brushing my lips over his. “When I say them, I don’t want there to be any confusion about whether or not I meant them. Okay?”

“When you say them.” He returned the kiss, keeping the gesture light. “Not if. I’m not sure if you’re trying to give me hope or trying to be a tease.”

“Just telling the truth.” I glanced down at Conway when he started to snore like a middle-aged man coming off a bender before looking back up at Abraham. “You know, the sooner I get my work done the sooner we can go to bed.”

“This is true.” Abraham stood, turning and bending, rolling Conway in to his arms before lifting him and bracing him against his shoulder. “I suppose I can occupy myself by starting on my quarterly taxes. I’m not ashamed to say the only thing which really and truly scares me these days is the IRS.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that particular fear, especially since it’s one I share myself.” I stood, leaning over Conway and pressing a soft kiss to Abraham’s cheek. “I’ll be up in a little bit, once I get things figured out.”

As I watched him leave, I didn’t know if I was talking about things with the magazine. Or things with him.