Page 73 of After the Rain

"Am not," Cooper protested through a yawn that could have swallowed half his face. "I'm just resting my eyes."

Ezra caught my gaze over Cooper's head, his smile warm with shared amusement. Three days of being openly together had created this easy rhythm between us, like we'd been co-parenting for years instead of just figuring out what the hell we were doing.

"Sure you are, buddy," I said, ruffling Cooper's hair. "Just like last night when you were 'resting your eyes' during movie time and somehow ended up snoring on the couch."

"I wasn't snoring!" Cooper protested indignantly. "That was just... heavy breathing."

"Heavy breathing that shook the windows," Ezra added with a grin, earning himself a scandalized look from Cooper.

"Mr. Mitchell! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"I'm on the side of truth, kiddo. And the truth is you snore like a freight train."

Cooper's mock outrage dissolved into giggles, and watching them tease each other made something warm settle in my chest. This was what I'd been missing during my marriage—the easy banter, the comfortable teasing, the sense that we were all on the same team.

"Bath time, loud sleeper," I announced, scooping Cooper up before he could launch another defense of his sleeping habits.

"Can Mr. Mitchell read me a story tonight?" Cooper asked, his arms tight around my neck.

"If he wants to survive another thrilling episode of Captain Underpants," I said, glancing at Ezra.

"I live for Captain Underpants," Ezra replied solemnly. "It's high literature."

"See, Daddy? Mr. Mitchell has good taste."

An hour later, after stories and teeth-brushing and the elaborate bedtime ritual that seven-year-olds require, Ezra and I finally found ourselves alone in the living room. The relief of the day's news still hummed between us, comfortable and warm.

"So," I said, settling onto the couch with two beers, "we survived our first major crisis."

"Barely," Ezra replied, accepting his beer with a grateful sigh. "For a while there, I thought I'd be updating my resume and looking for apartments in other states."

"Not happening. Cedar Falls is stuck with you now."

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of what we'd overcome settling around us like a warm blanket. Ezra's presence in my house felt so natural now, like he'd always been part of our evening routine.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, turning to face him more fully.

"Shoot."

"How would you feel about making this official? Moving in, I mean. Cooper already assumes you live here half the time, and honestly, it feels weird when you're not here."

Ezra's beer paused halfway to his lips. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"I'm asking if you want to move in with us. There's a difference."

"What kind of difference?"

"The difference between 'hey, want to be roommates' and 'hey, want to build a life together,'" I said, suddenly nervous about his reaction. "But if it's too soon, or if you need more time?—"

"Wade," Ezra interrupted gently, "it's not too soon. It's just... big. Moving in together, officially combining our lives, dealing with whatever scrutiny that brings. I want to think about it, make sure I'm ready for everything that comes with it."

"Take all the time you need," I said, though part of me wanted him to say yes immediately. "I just wanted you to know the offer's there."

"I appreciate that. And Wade? I want this. I want us. I just want to make sure I'm thinking clearly and not just caught up in the euphoria of keeping my job."

Wednesday morning found us making coffee together while Cooper ate cereal and provided running commentary oneverything from the weather to the relative merits of different breakfast cereals.

"Cheerios are boring," Cooper announced, examining his spoon with scientific intensity. "They're just circles. Food should be more exciting."

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