Page 95 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

My heart decides to swell and squeeze at the same time.

Max lifts his shoulder, nudging her away, too focused on his art to care about his mother’s professions of parental love.

She and I lock eyes. I mouth, I love you.

She blinks and fans her face, rolling her eyes as though annoyed with herself for being emotional. I wouldn’t want her any other way. Showing her love to Max, even if he doesn’t fully know why, is the safety net our son needs to be brave in life. To be experimental and open and trust himself.

Her phone rings from the counter, and Joseph’s name flashes. She glances at it, flattens her lips, and cancels the call. When it rings again, she shuts off her phone.

I rub my jaw. “He knows losing the job isn’t your fault, right?”

“He just likes to overthink and overtalk things. I’d rather spend my Saturday with my favorite men than deal with work. Especially when we have an important talk ahead of us.”

The moving-in talk with Max. Another swell-squeeze number happens behind my ribs. “Fine, but if you need to vent or anything with me, don’t hold back.”

She nods, then I help her tidy the kitchen and living room. A similar routine to our past couple of weeks, but I keep thinking, This is my home now. I belong somewhere. I’m no longer drifting without an anchor. A crack of thunder rings out. Heavy rain pelts the roof and windows, but in here we’re safe and dry. I even imagine inviting Kyle over with his daughter for the playdate we haven’t arranged yet, meeting his wife, making deeper friendships. Maybe I’ll walk through Windfall one day, enjoying its quaint charm as a Dauntless Lawyer, not as That Guy People Whisper About.

When E grabs his raincoat and announces he’s leaving, I pull him into a hug at the door. “Thanks for being such a good uncle and brother.”

He pounds my back. “Thanks for having such a great kid.”

“You can thank Sadie for that.”

E pulls back and gives me one of his intense stares. “Sadie’s done an amazing job with him, but Max is part of you too. He’s happier now because of you, so quit it with the self-sabotage. And his drawing skills are clearly from me.”

I bristle at his “self-sabotage” comment. All I did was compliment Sadie. But whatever. I don’t have the energy to analyze my overanalytical brother. Not when I’m about to give my kid the gift of a lifetime.

E darts out in the rain, and I mentally rearrange Monday’s hiking plans. Even with the recent rain, we’ve had fun getting muddy. To a point. Sadie won’t tolerate more puddle jumping (which I encourage). With only two sessions left, I want to end on a high note.

For now, I clap my hands and strut back to the kitchen. “Who wants ice cream?”

Max looks up from his sketchbook, his expression a mix of excitement and skepticism. “We can’t have ice cream before dinner.”

“We can when we have something to celebrate.” Except. Shit. I guess I don’t know the house rules. Basic adult rules, really. One hour into living with my family, and I’m already messing things up. I glance at Sadie and mouth a contrite, Sorry.

Instead of giving me hell, she shakes her head and grabs a tub of cookies and cream from the freezer. “We’ll make an exception today. But only today.”

Max slides off his chair and hurries to his counter stool, lest she change her mind. “What are we celebrating?”

“You have three guesses,” I say.

He scrunches his face and taps his thumb on the counter. “Did we win a trip to the National Air and Space Museum?”

“Nope.” Sadie scoops ice cream into bowls, the corners of her lips betraying her amusement.

Max goes still, his dark eyes managing to get even wider. “Are we getting a dog?”

“Double nope,” I say, but I make mental notes of my son’s wishes: trip to the Air and Space Museum, cute dog to cuddle.

He chews his lip, his gaze darting between Sadie and me. “Am I getting a baby brother or sister?”

Sadie freezes, her mouth partway open. I choke on nothing and pound my chest. I don’t know if that’s a theoretical wish or if he’s heard us when we thought we were being quiet. Either way, Sadie’s cheeks flame. Pretty sure mine match hers.

“No sibling.” Yet, I don’t add. I drag my stool closer to his and place my hand on his back. “Remember after the art walk, we were heading home, and you said you wished I’d stay over and that I lived with you and your mom?”

He nods, his small chest swelling and falling faster.

Sadie leans over from the other side of the counter and grabs Max’s hand. “Your dad’s moving in, sweetheart. We’re gonna be a family.”