Page 167 of Outspoken

I laugh. “Every day? Are you trying to exhaust me before the semester even starts?”

He kisses my neck. “No. A lot of dates will be me cooking for you or doing something chill like going to the beach with Angel. And when we’re alone, I guarantee you’ll get plenty of massages. You’ll be nice and relaxed for the busy months ahead.”

Playing with his hair, I ask, “Full-body massages?”

His hand lowers to my inner thigh and squeezes. “Everywhere.”

We return to dancing our tongues together, my body heating up.

The back passenger door pops open.

“You two are gross,” Angel says with disinterest, throwing his backpack on the seat.

Miguel and I separate like we’re on fire. I wipe my mouth, blushing.

Miguel recovers first, pulling the shades from the front windshield while pretending nothing was happening. “How was your first day?”

“Stupid,” Angel grumbles. “I hate people. Everyone is younger than me. I should be in high school.”

I turn in my seat so I can look at him. His forehead is sweaty, and he’s panting. Even though it’s summer and a thousand degrees outside, he insists on wearing a hoodie almost every day. Today, it’s his red one.

“That’s why you have to catch up,” I tell him. “It sucks, but you’re behind two grades. With some work, you might be able to get into high school next year.”

He sighs. “Probably not. I’m lazy.”

Miguel and I laugh.

Then Miguel lifts the white envelop that’s been resting on his lap. He passes it back to Angel. “Good job surviving the first day. Maybe this will perk you up.”

“It will if it’s cash,” Angel deadpans.

Miguel and I watch each other, trying not to smile as Angel opens the envelope.

“Oh,” Angel says, his sour attitude fading as he stares at the adoption certificate in his hands.

The process didn’t take as long as Miguel feared, so he’s now officially Angel’s parent. Angel opted to change his last name to Miguel’s, so they even share that now.

I glance between them, my eyes a bit teary. For the first time, I feel completely settled and at peace. It’s not that I don’t still experience bad days or frustrations or urges, but there’s an overwhelming sense that I’m exactly where I belong. I’m with Miguel and I’m with Angel, and the three of us just fit.

More and more, I’m warming to the idea of adopting Angel, too. I’d like to do it soon after Miguel and I are married. We don’t yet have a date set since supporting Paige is my main focus now, but I’m looking forward to starting this new life. My thirties are going to be way better than my twenties.

Miguel notices my misty eyes and smiles at me.

Angel is quiet so long, I ask, “How do you feel about it? It’s okay to feel mixed feelings—both happy and sad.”

He nods, reading the certificate over and over. Then he re-folds it carefully and stuffs it back in the envelope. “I’m happy.” He stares out the window with a neutral expression. His eyes don’t look completely happy.

Miguel reaches back to pat his knee. “My mom would say, ‘You already have everything that’s good. You need to try to ignore the bad that wants you to forget that.’ Like Amber said, it’s okay to feel mixed, just remember that we’re both here for you.”

“No, I’m happy,” he says, looking at Miguel in the rearview mirror. “My parents are crappy people. My biological parents. I’m happy I have a better dad now.”

Miguel presses his lips together, getting instantly weepy.

Angel rolls his eyes, something I’m teaching him to perfect. “Even if my new dad cries all the time.”

“I know, right?” I say, poking Miguel’s side.

“You cry just as much as him,” Angel says to me. “Both of you. All the time.”

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