Page 61 of Father Figure

Boy? Boyfriend? I was probably a little too old to feel comfortable with that word.

“Partner. Nicky is my partner.”

He beamed, and I relaxed a little, knowing I made the right decision.

“I thought Sam was your partner? Is the business doing poorly? Is that why you had to take on another partner?”

Jesus Christ. “No, not at all.” Sliding my arm around Nicky’s slender shoulders, I pulled him to me and pressed a kiss to his head. “The other kind of partner.”

“Oohhh.” He smiled awkwardly and then shrugged it off. “I’m Matt, Sam’s nephew. Step-nephew,” he clarified. “I like your necklace,” he told my boy.

Nicky touched the strand of puka shells around his neck. “Thanks! Maybe I’ll pick you up one when we head back to the islands.”

“Cool,” Matteo smiled. “Is Sam coming?”

“Do you want him to?” I asked, returning his grin.

Matteo scowled. “Forget I asked.”

Sam chose that moment to join us, tossing a bag of jellybeans on the conveyor belt. “Don’t forget, we have to pick up the alcohol,” he reminded me. Then he noticed his nephew. “Hey, Mattie.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? It’s Matt or Matteo. I’m not fucking twelve,” he huffed.

Sam pretended not to hear him. “Didn’t I warn you about cursing on the job?”

Matteo rolled his eyes, continuing to pass the food over the scanner and bagging it. “What’s with all the seafood? Usually, it’s sardines and soup.”

“What’s with all the questions?” Sam retorted.

Poor kid. I took pity on him. He just couldn’t win with Sam. “Our client only eats seafood.”

“That’s weird. I guess some of those yacht-type people can get fancy.”

“You have no idea,” I teased, grabbing our bags.

Sam tossed a candy bar and two dollars on the conveyor belt. “For your break, Mattie,” he called out. “Let me know about that fishing trip.”

Nicky followed him out. “I like your nephew, Uncle Sam.”

“Yeah? Well, that makes one of us.”

There was nothing worse than sleeping on the boat, wedged into a tiny bunk bed that swayed and dipped with the waves with nothing but a mesh net to hold you back from head-butting the floor—except when you shared that narrow bunk with another person.

I loved sleeping with Nicky, feeling his warm body safe in my arms, his breath puffing over my arm, the feel of his heart beating beneath my hand, and the smell of his tropical shampoo. But on the boat, I was willing to give up that comfort to gain nine more inches of mattress space.

Nicky was not, however.

Somehow, he was able to roll over, and he turned his sweet face up to me, big brown eyes crusted with sleep, hair matted and wild, and he smiled the brightest, warmest smile, and I forgot all about how his tiny, hot body made me sweat all night, or how his light snuffles were punctuated by the occasional snore—it was suddenly all worth it to wake up to his smiling face.

“Morning sleepyhead.” I pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Did you sleep good?”

“Define good.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry! I’ll sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“Don’t bother, I have to steer the boat tonight while Sam gets to try his best for a good night's sleep. But I wouldn’t say no to breakfast,” I hinted shamelessly.

---