Page 136 of Our Long Days
I drop my chin, studying her. “You okay?”
“Peachy!” she squeaks and starts transferring the cookies to the cooling rack. “Would you mind checking if Ethan has finished packing?”
“Sure.”
Quinn’s hand on my shoulder stops me mid-turn.
“He was worried what the girls would think about his glasses. I tried to tell him they wouldn’t care and would probably ask to try them on, but he didn’t buy it.” Her brows furrow. “I think a kid in his class made a comment.”
Fucking kids.
None of his cousins would dare tease him about his glasses. Outnumbered by girls, he’s closest to Everley and Madeline.
I kiss away her frown. “I’ve got it. You finish up here, and we’ll be down soon. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
Taking a sharp turn out of the kitchen, I bound up the stairs two at a time and head toward my son’s room. I rap my fist lightly on his door.
“Come in,” a small voice says.
I open the door to find Ethan sitting in the middle of his bed. He recently got into superheroes, and a bunch of his figurines are scattered atop his comforter.
“Hey, bud. You got your bag packed?” I smile and step inside.
He nods and shrugs simultaneously—whatever that means—his new glasses askew on his face.
At almost eight years old, he’s quiet when he wants to be. Get him talking about something that interests him, and there’s no shutting him up—the perfect mix of his parents, though he inherited Quinn’s chocolate locks and hazel eyes. We hoped togive him a sibling, but after struggling to conceive and two failed rounds of IVF, we took a break. The disappointment and heartbreak took its toll on us both, and Ethan was more than we could’ve ever wished for.
“Your mom mentioned you?—”
“My glasses. Yeah, I know,” he mutters, hands twisting. “They look stupid.”
Ethan isn’t a rude kid, so whatever the little shit at school said has clearly gotten to him.
“Hey.” I push my own glasses up my nose in an exaggerated manner. “They’re not stupid.”
He huffs a laugh. “Don’t you have to say stuff like that?”
“No, but I have to say things like ‘Don’t waste your time listening to mean kids.’ And if you’re ever not sure what’s going on up here”—I tap his head—“or in here”—then his chest—“you remember what we talked about.”
His eyes drift to the notebook sitting on his bedside table. I try to not react when I see a pen sticking out of the side and a few jotted words lining the pages.
“Not that anyone asked what Mom thinks,” a honeyed voice says from behind me, “but I happen to think glasses are very handsome.” Quinn wraps her arms around my waist, head peeking out behind my arm to grin at our son.
He rolls his eyes, but there’s no hiding his blush. “Mom,” he groans.
“Ethan,” she parrots. “It’s my job as your mother to be embarrassing. Your dad is the cool one.”
I peer down at her, giving her a look that saysReally?
She giggles, skirts around me, andpecks a kiss to my lips.
“Gross.” Ethan gags behind us. “I’m going before you use tongues.”
He scampers toward the door, but before he can escape, I tug him by the collar of his T-shirt and drag him into a grouphug. He protests for all of three seconds then wraps his skinny arms around us.
“I love you guys,” he mumbles and squeezes tighter.
