More Than Everything (Family 3)

All right, now that the niceties are out of the way, let’s get back to the album.

After a month spending every waking weekend nonworking moment with Scott and Adan, along with phone calls every day and dinners a couple of times a week, I decided I hadn’t been a complete fool in falling for them. Whatever bad stuff had gone down in our past, they were good guys, and I genuinely liked both of them.

Scott was as earnest as ever. He was generous with his laughter, his compliments, and his sweet touches. When we chatted, even if it was about the most mundane things, he seemed fascinated by every word I said. He had endless patience for Bobby and Stephi, laughing when they crawled all over him even if it left him coated in ice cream or pasta sauce or any number of other unidentifiable stain-causers.

Adan was as intense as the day I’d met him. He was laser-focused on Scott and, it seemed, on me, and though he didn’t talk as much as either of us, he was always paying attention, watching what we did and listening to what we said. Oh, and the way he looked at me. Jesus, his heated gaze was enough to make my breath catch, and there were many occasions when I had to excuse myself to splash water on my face or stick my head in the refrigerator so I could cool off. Bobby and Stephi didn’t jump all over him like they did Scott, but they instinctively respected him, going to him with questions about their homework or something they heard at school. On the nights Adan and Scott came over for dinner, it was Adan they ran to with their bedtime books in hand.

As time passed, I became less able to explain our relationship to myself. We were friends; that much I knew. But I wasn’t used to my friends looking at me like they wanted to eat me alive. My friends didn’t call me “baby” and hold me close at the end of every night. And none of my friends resented the time we spent apart and acted like the evenings we spent together were the highlights of their week.

Those descriptions matched how a boyfriend would act, but Scott and Adan already had each other to fill that role. When we said our good-byes, sometimes so late it was already morning, they went home together and had the pleasure of sharing a bed and sleeping in each other’s arms. I would have been jealous to the point of madness if the fantasies of what they did in that bed hadn’t turned me on to the point of distraction.

The next picture in the album is a funny memory of a typical evening we spent together. Scott is sitting at the kitchen table with Bobby and Stephi, eating hot dogs and spaghetti and chatting. Adan is in the background, leaning against the counter, holding a beer and smiling at them. Thinking of that night always makes me laugh, and after the wringer I’ve put you through, I think you’re due a little laughter.

Scott Boone

“WHAT’RE we having for dinner?” Adan asked Charlie.

“You can offer to help, you know,” I reminded Adan, who was reclined on the couch, watching TV. I was sitting next to him, brushing Stephi’s hair, Bobby was taking a shower, and Charlie was in the kitchen. “He’s not your wife.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Adan said as he reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

“It means what I said. Charlie isn’t your wife, so quit acting like it’s his job is to make you dinner.”

“Stephi, sweetie, will you go pick out your jammies and books for tonight?” Adan said to Stephi. As soon as she was gone, he glared at me, crossed his arms over his chest, and said, “What’s wrong with being the wife?”

I could see Charlie from the corner of my eye. He was moving toward the edge of the kitchen and watching us.

“He’s a man, Adan, that’s what’s wrong with it.”

“So if he was a woman, it’d be okay for him to make us dinner but because he’s a man it’s not? Am I following your reasoning here?”

Before I could see it coming, he had flipped his insulting comment around and made me look like a misogynist. It was that kind of quick thinking that made Adan so damn good at his job, which was fine when we were on the same side, but I didn’t appreciate having it turned on me.

“You know damn well that’s not what I’m saying!” I snapped.

He arched his eyebrows. “Other than being a guy, why can’t Charlie be the wife?” he asked. “He likes to take care of everyone, he likes to cook, he likes taking the kids to school. What’s wrong with being the wife?”