Page 64 of After the Rain

"And we're not going to sit here and watch our grandson become collateral damage in your personal journey of self-discovery," Richard shot back.

The words hit me like a slap. They saw my coming out not as courage or authenticity, but as selfish self-indulgence that threatened Cooper's welfare.

"Sarah, I need to know where you stand on this."

She looked between me and her parents, trapped in a loyalty conflict that had been engineered by people who claimed to care about her wellbeing.

"I stand with what's best for Cooper," she said finally.

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer I can give right now."

I left the Fletcher house understanding that they were prepared to use my relationship with Ezra as ammunition in a custody battle they were apparently planning. Worse, they wereusing Sarah as their weapon, manipulating her love for Cooper to turn her against me.

Saturday morning arrivedbright and clear, perfect weather for Cooper's seventh birthday party. I woke to the sound of my son bouncing on my bed, his energy infectious despite the anxiety gnawing at my gut.

"Daddy! It's party day! Can we put up the streamers now? Can we blow up the balloons? Is Mr. Mitchell really coming?"

I pulled Cooper into a hug, breathing in his little-boy scent and trying to center myself on what mattered. Today was about him, about celebrating the most important person in my world. Whatever drama the adults brought to this party, Cooper deserved to feel loved and special.

"Yes to streamers, yes to balloons, and yes, Mr. Mitchell is coming," I said, tickling his ribs until he giggled. "But first, pancakes. Birthday boys need proper fuel for party hosting."

We spent the morning transforming the backyard into a carnival of primary colors and superhero decorations. Cooper arranged everything with serious concentration, moving the bounce house three feet to the left, then back again, ensuring maximum fun potential.

"Do you think everyone will have a good time?" he asked, hanging the last streamer with careful precision.

"I think anyone who gets to celebrate with you is lucky, buddy."

Jazz arrived at ten-thirty with her truck full of extra tables and chairs, taking one look at my face and immediately diagnosing the problem.

"You look like you're preparing for battle instead of a seven-year-old's birthday party," she observed, unloading a folding table with characteristic efficiency. "What's got you wound tighter than a spring?"

I explained about the Fletcher dinner, about Sarah's warnings, about the feeling that today might become a political battlefield instead of a celebration.

Jazz's response was characteristically blunt. "Anyone who brings politics to a kid's party isn't worth having as a friend. Cooper invited the people he wants here. Everyone else can shut up or leave."

"It's not that simple?—"

"It's exactly that simple," Jazz interrupted, fixing me with a stare that could cut steel. "This is your son's birthday, your backyard, your guest list. You don't owe anyone explanations for who you invite to celebrate with your family."

Sarah arrived at eleven with an armload of presents and obvious tension radiating from every muscle. She helped arrange gift tables and hang decorations, but I could see her scanning the yard like she was assessing defensive positions.

"Wade, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked when Cooper was distracted by testing the bounce house.

She pulled me aside to the far corner of the yard, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "My parents are planning something. I don't know what exactly, but they've been making phone calls all week, talking about 'protecting Cooper's interests' and 'documenting inappropriate influences.'"

My stomach dropped. "They're coming to the party?"

"They said they wouldn't, but Wade... I think they might have convinced other people to come. To watch. To document whatever they think they'll see between you and Ezra."

The ominous warning added weight to an already charged situation. I looked around the cheerful decorations and felt like I was arranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

"Sarah, I need to know—are you with me on this, or are you with them?"

She was quiet for a long moment, watching Cooper bounce with pure joy inside the inflatable castle. "I'm with Cooper. I want him to be happy and safe. But Wade, if this gets ugly, if people start taking sides... I can't protect you from my parents."

"I'm not asking you to protect me. I'm asking you to protect him."

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