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“Spot on. The best ones are the unexpected ones. The ones who sneak up on you are the real gems.”
“Mommy’s the bestest hero ever!”
I laugh.
“Yeah,” Dillan says, “Watch out, Gotham! Here comes our superhero.”
I wrap my arm around Dillan’s waist while I squeeze Isaac’s hand. “Babe. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve told you, but seriously, you’re the superhero here. I should get you a trophy or something.”
Dillan kisses my lips lightly. “Superhero reporting for duty: I have another surprise waiting for you back home.”
Back home, my stomach is growling, and I’m betting Dillan has whipped up one of his epic surprise dinners. Yet that’s just half of the story. Stepping into the penthouse, I’m greeted by a pleasant surprise—we’ve got company! Pippa, Mrs. Loughty, and Gavin are waiting for us. The table is filled with various delicious-smelling foods, and my heart swells as our closest friends greet us with hugs and kisses.
“What’s all this?” I ask.
“Well, you’ve been so damn busy that Dillan thought we could all have a family meal,” Pippa says, passing a bowl to Gavin so he can bring it to the table.
“Now you just sit down, my dear,” Mrs. Loughty insists, forcing me into a chair. “If you really want to, you can do the dishes later.” She winks at me.
“Can I help? Can I help?” Isaac tugs excitedly on Mrs. Loughty’s apron.
“Of course you can, sweet boy.”
I smile at Dillan as he comes to rest his hands on my shoulders. “I love you so much,” I tell him.
He leans down to give me another of his sweet kisses. “Just wait until they leave. You’ll love me even more.”
I don’t doubt it.
I see Gavin lean in, teasing Dillan with something that sounds like, “Hey, keep it in your pants, bro. You’re making us mere mortals look bad.”
“I prefer to think of it as setting the gold standard,” Dillan tells him.
“Says the guy who couldn’t spot his own offspring in the delivery room.”
Playful words and jests fill the air as we set the table and dish out the food. Once we’re all sitting, I can’t help but gaze fondly at the group. For the longest time, I’ve always felt like it was me against the world. Nothing could be farther from the truth.
I have Dillan. I have Isaac. I have Pippa and Mrs. Loughty, and even Gavin in his own way. It has been so long since all of us have been together like this, that I sit back and soak in the love.
When I called my parents to share the news about having a child, my mom started tearing up. I couldn’t tell if time had mellowed her emotions or if the prospect of becoming a grandmother simply had that effect on all mothers. Either way, witnessing her reaction had had a tenderizing effect on me. We ended up having a conversation about Dillan, where I was living, and, yeah, my not-so-traditional job. Mom’s reaction was a mix of concern and curiosity, but surprisingly, it wasn’t as harsh as I expected. The idea of me having my own dance studio seemed to placate her, unlike my revelation about not having a marriage certificate. Well, we kept chatting, and my parents even asked for pictures of Isaac. It was a step toward acceptance. I like the thought of Isaac having grandparents. There’s a hope that maybe in time, alongside Dillan’s parents, they too will bring cherished memories and a treasure trove of stories into Isaac’s life.
After we clink glasses, Pippa drops the bomb: Nova, the mystery girl she was swooning over? They’re officially dating. Little did I know, Pippa seized the moment with a mix of courage and sheer badassery when she accidentally bumped into her at a hipster flea market in Brooklyn (the last place she’d expect to find her), casually inviting her to the tattoo studio “for a much-needed touch-up.” And guess what? They’re cooking up a whole new design—for both of them. I can already envision them strolling down the street, hand in hand, flaunting their matching four-leaf clover tattoos.
Funny how time works, stretching long for some and flying by for others. Pippa insists (with a sly grin my way) that some things can’t be left to fate alone. According to her, fate is like a lazy cat; sometimes it saunters in unannounced and then you’ve gotta grab it by the tail and swing it in the direction you want—especially when you’ve been twiddling your thumbs for ages.
And hey, she’s right—I’ve learned my lesson. No more twiddling thumbs for this pro.
Speaking of lessons, Gavin has apparently been on a third date with a yoga instructor Mrs. Loughty set him up with, which for him, is pretty serious. According to Dillan, Gavin hasn’t had more than one date with a woman in years.
Mrs. Loughty’s life is the only one that remains the same, which is how she likes it. A fact she reminds us of every time we ask if anything new has happened. Yet she’s practically beaming with pride, taking full credit “for orchestrating this perfect match for Gavin” (her words, not mine). With a smug grin, she even drops hints about starting her own dating agency, citing Dr. Herbert’s newfound love as another success story. I can’t help but smile, attributing it to fate’s mischievous hand, though maybe Mrs. Loughty and fate are inseparable friends. In my mind’s eye, I see her as a matchmaking lady in an old-fashioned dating agency, sitting behind an antique desk and pondering potential matches. When I share this vision, she beams even brighter and takes an extra decadent bite of our delicious chocolate soufflé.
The dessert, courtesy of Luigi from Amelio’s, makes it abundantly clear that winning the whole pot comes with its own sweet rewards. Even three years down the line, Amelio’s remains our go-to restaurant with Luigi being our most surprising supporter. He and the restaurant will always hold a special place in our hearts.
It’s not until Isaac begins to doze off in his chair that we decide to call it a night and bid our friends farewell. Putting Isaac to bed is usually a bit of a struggle—he’s a ball of energy, and I’ve got no clue where he gets it from. Surprisingly, today seems to have worn him out. He willingly changes into his pajamas, content to snuggle into bed after a warm relaxing bath.
When I go back into the living room, Dillan sits on the couch and holds out his arms.
“I’m tired,” I say, flopping into his embrace. “But madly happy.”
