Page 29 of With You

The bond between them makes me feel like Rowan entering our lives was kismet. We took the time to learn him while he took the time to learn her. His love language is acts of service, andthere isn’t a day that passes, where he doesn’t show Reese just how much he loves her.

He’s patient and protective in a way that reminds me that your family is beyond what you were born into, it’s beyond blood and beyond lineage, and very much blossoms from the simpler, more overlooked things in life: love, adoration, and respect.

And Reese is young enough that he’s always been her older brother. What started out as a semi-permanent placement, turned into us adopting Rowan, because the thought of him leaving any of us was too much to bear.

It isn’t easy, as any parent knows, but eventually they start talking and walking and feeding themselves, and your job as a parent shifts from milestone to milestone, back and forth, teacher to friend, friend to teacher.

“Are you sure you two don’t need any help?” Julian offers. “I can make coffee and hot chocolate for everyone.”

“No,” she says adamantly. “You and Dad can clean up since Rowan and I set the table and cooked.”

Julian digs his teeth into his bottom lip, hiding his smile. “Not a problem. Your Dad and I will clean up.”

“And Row knows how to make hot chocolate, don’t you Row?”

Turning the stove off, Rowan picks up the plate of hot, fresh pancakes and strides toward the table. “Yeah, Pa showed me how.”

Julian and I decided early on that we didn’t really care what the kids called us. Between the both of them, either one of us has been Dad, Dads, Papa, Daddy, or Pa. They use them all on rotation, and we respond to each of them. But over time, Rowan has gravitated to calling me Dad and Julian Pa, but even without the distinction, we each have an individual connection with each child, that no matter the moniker, you know from the sound of their voice which parent they need in that moment.

“See,” she chirps proudly. “Rowan can make it.”

“Come on,” I say, gesturing for them to sit down. “I would much rather you both eat the food before it gets cold. I’ll plate up everyone’s pancakes and your dad can make everyone’s drink of choice.”

Reese isn’t too impressed with my disruption to her celebratory breakfast, but she listens to me and sits down anyway. While I’m so grateful for their thoughtfulness, I want to take care of them. It’s my job and my purpose, Julian and parenthood giving me a sense of steadfastness I didn’t know I would or could ever experience.

“How many do you both want?” I ask them as I put one on each of their plates.

“There’s enough for all of us to have four each,” Rowan informs me. Which is code forplease give everyone four. So, despite knowing Reese won’t be able to finish four, and Rowan will eat her leftovers, I stack each person’s plate four pancakes high.

Julian returns to the table only a few minutes later, placing down a drink in front of each child, only to duck back to the kitchen and grab a coffee for each of us and a thick white envelope I’ve never seen before.

Julian places it in front of me and then sets my mug of coffee beside my plate of pancakes.

“What’s this?” I ask, raising it to my face.

“Open it,” Reese shouts enthusiastically, making Rowan laugh.

Sliding my finger under the flap, I try and fail to open it without tearing it. “Shit.”

“Dad. That’s a bad word,” Reese hisses.

“Sorry,” I drawl.

I drag the rectangle-shaped cardboard out of the envelope and turn it over to see what looks like a wedding invitation.

“Isn’t this our wedding invitation?” I can feel my forehead crease in confusion as I glance up to look at Julian, who is standing beside me. “What am I missing?”

“Look again,” Rowan says.

My gaze dances over the words, finally noticing the small and subtle differences.

Deacon and Julian Reid-Sutton invite you to their ten-year anniversary party.

“We’re having a party? Tonight?” I exclaim.

“Pa wanted it to be a surprise,” Rowan informs me. “But I told him you wouldn’t like it, because you and I are the same and we hate being the center of attention.”

Emotion lodges itself in my throat at hearing him point out our similarities. Something about him wanting to connect us, always stealing my breath.

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