Page 103 of The Fireman and the Flirt

“Can I sneak in and use the can quickly?” I whispered through the door.

Cary opened the door a crack, his big eyes a ray of sunshine on this spring day. “I don’t think we’re there yet in our relationship.” He slipped me a peck on the lips. “By the way, you’re really cute in the morning.”

Cary hadn’t moved in, but he spent multiple nights here per week. It started back in February by accident. A bad snowstorm meant he had to stay the night. We were both nervous about how Jolene would react. I had wanted more preparation before I asked Cary to spend the night. As a dad, I was supposed to be having lots of talks with my child, right? But she just laughed and said I worried too much. That night, the three of us had stayed up late watching movies and eating popcorn before retiring to our bedrooms. Having Cary sleep in bed with me felt wonderfully natural, as if we were following the expected order of things.

Our relationship continued to flourish and strengthen. He spent more time over here, and each time, he further entrenched himself in our lives. We ate more meals together. He drove Jolene to her internship when I couldn’t. He and his dad repainted our bedroom. He helped me put down mulch in the spring. Frankly, I was surprised at how handy Cary was. The fancy clothes threw me off. But needing to fix up clients’ homes for showings had forced him to become a de facto handyman over the years.

I hated the term partner. Partner sounded too clinical. Cary was my boyfriend, but he truly was a partner, too. We worked together as one unit.

Except when it came to the bathroom.

“Cary, I just need thirty seconds.”

He opened the door, his face covered in a white mask, yet another magical lotion that made his skin creamy and smooth.

“Are you auditioning forMrs. Doubtfire?” I asked.

“You know, Derek, some moisturizer would do you good.”

I went into the bathroom without commenting. Little did he know that sometimes, after he went to bed, I’d smear on some face cream.

After I did my business, I found Cary and Jolene at the kitchen table. Cary was helping her apply something to her face. It seemed that each week, Jolene’s face became slightly more dolled up.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s concealer,” Cary said. “Someone’s breaking out.”

“Ugh. When will it stop?” Jolene grabbed the mirror from the table and checked her face while Cary continued dabbing it on.

“That’s the thing about puberty. It gives you acne, but it also gives you boobs,” he said, rubbing in concealer onto her cheek.

I cleared my throat, not wanting to think about my daughter having breasts.

“Derek, chill. Your daughter is becoming a woman. It’s a good thing.”

“Have we covered them all?” Jolene asked.

“Actually, I see Centaurus forming on your forehead.” Cary held up the mirror to show her.

“Please stop naming my breakouts after constellations. I’ll never want to look in a telescope again.”

“Fair. But the accuracy is uncanny. I wonder if you’re manifesting astronomical acne.” Cary thought on that for a moment before remembering he had a job to do.

I loved watching the two of them interact. There’d been some friction here and there when Cary had to be the parent and put his foot down. But it was mostly little things like Jolene watching too much TV or checking if she did her homework. We both steeled ourselves for a potential rebellious streak in her.

“This is so not the day for my face to wage an all-out war against me,” Jolene said, a new kind of desperation in her voice.

“Why? What’s going on?” I asked. I grabbed the nonfat Greek yogurt container she’d requested and scooped her some.

“Well, um, I forgot to mention it before, but I’m having a friend pick me up for school this morning.”

Cary and I looked at each other, then at her.

“You have friends that drive?” he asked.

“His mom is the one driving and picking me up.”

“His?” I asked, the pronoun hanging heavy in my mouth. “As in a boy?”

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