Page 42 of Expensive

I can’t help but smile. There’s my boy, always so clear about his boundaries when we’re in a scene together. Maybe it will take him time to get used to all the new terminology and what this means in regards to his own identity, but at least I know he feels comfortable telling me no.

He really is perfect for me in every way.

“Alright. No kisses. Except maybe forehead kisses. How do you feel about those?”

He smiles. “I think I always like forehead kisses.”

“Good.” I lean over and give him one. “Now about these LEGOs…”

He laughs. “Okay, okay, Daddy. I’ll play LEGOs with you. If you insist.”

There’s just a touch of brat in him, and I love it.

Andrew pours out the LEGOs again. “What should we build?”

“I don’t know. Do you like cars or airplanes?” A lot of the toys for boys seemed to have that kind of theme.

He scrunches his nose. “Nah.” He starts snapping the LEGOs together. “Those are boring.”

“Yeah? What do you like, baby boy?”

He blushes. “I don’t know. I like these,” he says, pointing to the stars on the canopy. “And I like you.”

I hook an arm around his waist and pull him into my lap. “Well, I’m here. What are you building now?”

He holds up a box with eight thinner Lego pieces jutting out from all sides. “An octopus!” He laughs as I eye it skeptically.

“An octopus, huh?”

He traces his finger along the knuckles of my right hand where the tendrils of my octopus tattoo unfurl. “It doesn’t matter what we build, does it? When you’re with your favorite person, you can do anything with them, and it’s still wonderful.”

God, if he doesn’t make my heart melt every time we’re together. “I couldn’t agree more, but I do want to hear the rest ofFrankensteinat some point. The suspense is killing me.”

The classics had never appealed to me before, but the way Andrew reads them has opened my eyes to a world I never thought I’d understand.

He picks up the book. “You’re so demanding, Daddy. Forcing me to play LEGOs with you, and now I have to read to you.” He sighs dramatically, a smile still firmly on his face.

I don’t argue with him. I sense that this is important. He needs to understand that I want this as much as he does.

He opens the book and flips through the pages until he gets to a section near the end. “Here we are.”

He leans against my chest as he begins to read. I shine the light of the flashlight on the pages and the stars on the canopy above us gleam. Despite the situation with the Monroes and Andrew’s father, I’ve never felt more content and safe. Andrew’s voice lilts up and down as he tells the story of a monster who goes to desperate measures to force his creator to make a mate for him.

It’s far too easy to relate with the monster. As much as I wish Andrew could have his own bond, it’s nice to find someone who will allow me to love him even in my brokenness. The monster threatens to kill Frankenstein’s family if he won’t create a mate for him, and a part of me understands why. What would I do if I could find the doctor who’d extracted my teeth in the pits, ensuring I’d never be able to bond? I don’t know if I’d spare him either.

It seems to me that Mary Shelley was right. Monsters aren’t born, they’re made. Often by people who were made into monsters themselves by someone else. And so the cycle continues, until someone can stop it—be a bigger man.

As we near the end, Andrew’s eyes droop, his voice trailing off midsentence. His head relaxes back onto my shoulder, his whole body softening.

I glance down at the clock on my phone. It’s only noon. I chuckle and press a kiss to his forehead. He’s pregnant now. He needs his rest. I click the flashlight off and shut the book.

A part of me wishes we could hide in here forever.

I gently lay Andrew down on the pillows. He curls into me, so I lie down next to him and wrap my arms around him.

“…seek happiness in… tranquilizers…” he mumbles.

I hold back a smile. “What was that, baby boy?”

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