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“It means I know, and so does Beau.”
“Beau? Wait? You’re with Colt right now? And Beau?”
I could almost feel bad for her. This is an ambush. But all is fair in love and war and secrets.
“Yes. I’m with Beau, and I’m with Colt. We’re in a loving throuple. That’s our secret. What’s yours?”
“Blair,” she murmurs, “I don’t want any trouble. I got my life together. I have a son.”
“Yeah, I know. And honestly, Reese, I’m glad you got it together. I’m glad you’re happy and healthy. Truly. But what about Colt? What about his son? Or is he Beau’s?”
I hear laughter, like lots of kids in the background. She must be at a park somewhere.
So, she whispers, “I have a husband. My son has a dad who he loves very much. I can’t rip their world apart.”
“So you’ll rip Colt’s apart instead? Like you haven’t hurt him enough?” Damn, what I want to say. How I want to shred Reese with my words. I know I can, but there’s been enough damage done. It’s time to heal. And there’s a child involved. “Reese, we know what you did to Colt.”
I reach for his hand and squeeze it. He’s wrapped in Beau’s arms, squeezing my hand back.
“I’m sorry,” Reese almost sobs. “I’m so sorry. I’ve told Colt so many times. I know it was wrong. So wrong.”
“Well, it’s time to stop saying it was wrong and act to make it right.”
“I can’t. Jake thinks Forrest is his, and Forrest loves his dad. He’s a good man.”
“Yeah, that’s what Colt says because Colt is a good man, too. He’s protected your lies for too long.”
“This will ruin my marriage. This will break Forrest’s heart.”
“No, Reese. The longer you lie, the more it will hurt. One day, Forrest will know the truth and think of how hurt he’ll be that you kept his father from him all that time. You’re not protecting him. You’re punishing him. And your husband? Well? Love tells the truth. He deserves to know, too.”
She’s silent while I turn to see Beau kissing Colt’s shoulder.
And the irony hits me.
How our love isn’t a lie, but it’s a secret. So, how long before it hurts, too? How long can we hide?
And why should we?
Why, when Beau is holding Colt so tight while Colt holds my hand, should we hide our love? While marriages like Reese’s or my dad’s get to parade around, all public and praised, under the guise of being moral and good?
Because we’re moral.
We’re good.
The way we scarf down blueberry pancakes together. The way Beau swiped maple syrup across my nose for Colt to kiss off, making me giggle. The way we solve a crossword puzzle together in bed or sit in a row, reading our books at night. Or roll over and turn off the light.
Why are three mouths kissing the other goodnight so wrong, but two mouths are so right?
“Look, Reese.” I break the silence. “We’ll give you a month. We’ll pay for a counselor for you to consult with or one who can facilitate these conversations with your husband and son. We don’t want to destroy your family. We just want to have ours, too.”
She rushes, “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Yes, you can and you will,” I answer. “You’re strong. You got sober. I always knew you would. Now get it right.”
“Mommy?” A voice chimes. “Where’s my ball?”
It’s so quiet on our end, Beau hears him. He hears Forrest for the first time, and his expression is a storm of emotions. It matches Colt’s: wonder, love, ache.
