Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Yep. He talks about both of you all the time.”
“You should show him your art book.” Nash nudges his sister.
“I’ll be right back!” Sadie says, then runs toward the hallway where I figure her room is.
By the time she’s back, James is done ordering the food, and the four of us sit around the table, looking through Sadie’s book.
“You do a lot of people and animals. I draw buildings,” I say.
“You draw?”
“In a different way. I’m going to school to be an architect.” The second the words pass my lips, I wonder if I said the wrong thing. My gaze shoots to James, who’s watching me, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he gives a small shrug just for me. There’s no going back now, but just because they know I am going to school doesn’t mean they know James is my professor.
“Aren’t you too old for college?” Sadie asks.
I bark out a laugh.
She blushes. “I’m sorry!”
“No, it’s fine. I didn’t have the money to go right after high school. Plus, I don’t think I was ready. Some people are right away, but I wasn’t. So I saved up, and now here I am.”
“I want to go to art school,” Sadie shares.
“I think that’s a good choice,” James tells her. “What about you?” he asks Nash, who shrugs.
“I don’t know what I want,” Nash answers, and I’m glad he at least did that.
“You have time to figure it out.” James smiles, and Nash looks at him, still so unsure if he can trust James, but ultimately nods.
The intercom buzzes, interrupting our chat, and James lets the delivery man up while I go into the kitchen. “Do you guys have paper plates?”
“In the pantry over there.” Nash nods toward a door, and I retrieve the plates.
James returns with the two pizzas and sets them on the table while Nash and Sadie ask about drinks and get everyone a soda from the fridge, except for James, who says he wants water.
It’s weird, moving through space like a unit with him and his family. This isn’t something I’ve had with a lover, especially not when kids are involved. If I’ve ever fucked someone with kids before, I didn’t know they had them, and I certainly wasn’t sharing meals with them.
We end up at the table again together, eating, talking, laughing. This doesn’t feel like the meals James has told me he usually shares with them, though his relationship with Sadie has already been evolving. There’s a liveliness in James tonight I don’t often see, maybe ever, and it’s hard not to just watch him, not to try and soak it all in.
He laughs at something Sadie says, pure joy on his face, the sound so crisp and real that it nearly steals my breath. This man is so fucking beautiful, so fucking mine. I don’t ever want to let him go.
I want more, yes, but maybe I want it all.
“Colton?” Nash says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“We’re talking about his games,” James fills in for me. “He should get his schedule tomorrow after practice.”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Nash says, “but since you helped and—”
“I want,” I answer. I really fucking want to go. But what if James doesn’t want me to? What if someone sees us there together? This is already turning into such a goddamned mess. “I’ll have to check my work schedule, but I’ll do my best to go.”
Letting Nash down isn’t an option, but risking James isn’t either.
“Yeah, sure, whatever. It’s fine if neither of you can go.” Nash stuffs what looks like half a slice of pizza into his mouth.
“I’m going. I won’t miss a single game if I can help it,” James answers, and I swear, despite Nash only giving a quiet thanks, his cheeks turn pink.
We finish dinner, then dive into cake.
“My mom used to tease me about how much Dakota and I ate as teenagers. I didn’t believe her until now.”
“I could eat more,” Nash admits. “Like, I’ll probably take a leftover piece of the cheese pizza to bed with me.” The bacon and pineapple pizza was demolished.
“Take whatever you want,” James says, then gives me a small shrug as if he’s not sure he said the right thing.
Once cake is done, James checks with the kids to make sure they don’t need help with homework. Both say no, Sadie saying she’s going to take a shower, Nash thanking me again for coming, before his phone buzzes. He grins at it, turning into a typical teenager and stuffing his earbuds in, heading to his room, face in his phone.
“I think people are messaging him now,” James says softly. “Like friends. He came out of tryouts with two boys, and he’s been texting. That’s new.”
“That’s because of you,” I say. “All the changes, them having a steady life, finding some kind of normalcy—school, basketball, art—that’s because of my good boy.”