To say Brian and Lori were ecstatic would be an understatement. It was a bit humbling to listen to August tell them how the events unfolded. This necessitated him explaining how he never knew about Sam’s existence. My face flushed hot with embarrassment, even though August told them without any recrimination or blame toward me.
Bottom line, Brian and Lori are going to hop a plane tomorrow morning and head to Vegas. Sam’s family has just grown, and my kid is over the moon about it. That’s why I cried this morning—because even though my kid is battling cancer, I don’t think he has ever been happier in his life than now.
He’s so excited about them coming to visit he’s been bouncing around and generally making a nuisance of himself.
As such, I put August in charge of entertaining Sam for the day. He’s taken this entire week off work so he can be around to help with Sam, but I know part of it is because he’s worried about being away from the safety net of the hospital and medical professionals. August told me as much, testament to the fact that after we have sex, we often talk about deeper things.
My father is off somewhere—my guess is at the casino to see his mysterious lady friend—but he’s going to swing by the grocery store before coming home to get us all stocked up on food.
As I push the vacuum cleaner across the thick pile, my mind starts to drift. And when that happens, one of the things that usually comes to the forefront is August.
In particular, I think about him coming into my bedroom last night. I had awoken on the verge of an orgasm to what I thought was a dream only to find his face pressed between my legs. To say I was stunned was an understatement. I was also elated. I have no clue what is going to happen in our future or whether we could ever be something real again. We spent the last two weeks stealing moments at The Wicked Horse and getting our rocks off, but circumstances have changed with Sam home.
I guess August figured the best way around us not being able to head out to the club was to just take matters into his own hands.
I was okay with that. Last night was a revelation. The sex was obviously different. It was quieter. It seemed far more intense and intimate. When we’re at The Wicked Horse and on display, our sex is about everyone. Last night the experience made me feel closer to August than ever since it was just between the two of us.
When we finished, we laid in bed for a while with me half on his chest and his arm draped around my lower back working lazy patterns over my skin with his thumb. We talked about Sam, and I found myself wondering if we would just slip into sleep so he would stay the full night. It was a question that was answered with no equivocation when he rolled out of bed, saying, “I better get back to my room before Sam wakes up. It would be confusing for him to see us like this.”
It’s confusing for me, too, August.
Oddly, it probably wouldn’t be complicated to Sam. I know my kid. He would be over the moon if his parents got together. August doesn’t know him well enough to understand that. Honestly, I think this is the most confusing for August, but all I can do is let him plod along at his own pace.
Any thoughts I may have had that August and I sharing an intimate moment in my room might have meant more was dispelled when he mentioned perhaps scheduling a time for us to go to The Wicked Horse before leaving. Clearly, it’s just about the sex to August. He’s certainly not giving me any indication he wants more.
After I finish vacuuming the living room, I turn the machine off. The sudden loss of noise lasts only a moment before I hear Sam and August’s voice filtering in through the open window. They’re out on the front porch where they’ve been trying to put together a puzzle while taking advantage of a beautiful day.
I start wrapping the cord around the hooks on the vacuum, but freeze when I hear Sam say, “All I’m saying is it would be nice if you took her out.”
August gives a dry laugh. “Kid… It’s not like that with your mom and me.”
Holy crap. They’re talking about me. I move a little bit closer to the window so I can hear better.
“I’m pretty smart for a nine-year-old,” Sam says.
“You’re ten,” August points out.
“And that makes me even smarter,” Sam replies without missing a beat. I have to put my hand over my mouth so as not to laugh out loud. “And you and my mom are very much together.”