Page 77 of After the Rain

"Really tall. Like, giant tall. Maybe eight feet."

"That's going to be one expensive treehouse if we have to accommodate eight-foot Cooper," I observed.

"I'll pay you back when I'm a famous dinosaur scientist," Cooper said with absolute confidence in his future career prospects.

"Deal," I said. "But if you end up being an accountant, you still owe me for the extra lumber."

"I won't be an accountant. Accountants don't get to dig up dinosaur bones."

"Fair point."

By evening, we had the basic structure completed, and Cooper was already making plans for interior decoration that involved "at least seventeen pillows and maybe a mini-fridge."

"Where exactly are we supposed to run electricity for this mini-fridge?" Ezra asked reasonably.

"Details," Cooper waved off his concern. "That's what grown-ups are for."

Sunday afternoon brought moreserious conversations about our future. Ezra and I sat on the porch swing while Cooper "tested" his treehouse by spending an hour up there with his comic books. I had my arm around Ezra's shoulders, my fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

"I've been thinking about your offer," Ezra said, his head resting against my shoulder.

"And?" I asked, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"And I want to say yes. But I want to make sure we're doing this for the right reasons, not just because it's convenient or because we're caught up in the honeymoon phase." His hand found my thigh, fingers tracing absent patterns that made it hard to concentrate on the serious conversation.

"What would be the right reasons?" I asked, my thumb stroking along his collarbone.

Ezra was quiet for a moment, watching Cooper arrange pillows through the treehouse window. "Because we're building something real. Because Cooper needs stability and consistency. Because I love you both and want to be part of this family officially."

"Those sound like pretty good reasons to me." I tilted his chin up so I could see his eyes, then kissed him softly.

"There are practical considerations too," he said against my lips. "What happens if things get complicated with my job again? What if the community backlash gets worse? What if moving in together makes us a bigger target?"

"Then we deal with it together," I said simply, my hand sliding up to cup his face. "Ezra, I can't promise it'll be easy. But I can promise that whatever comes, we face it as a team."

"I know. I just... I've never done this before. The moving in together thing. I don't want to screw it up."

"You won't screw it up. And if we both screw it up, at least we'll do it together." I pulled him closer, needing the physical contact to anchor this conversation.

That made him smile. "When you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

"Is that a yes?"

"That's a 'let me think about it for another day or two and then probably yes.'"

"I can live with probably yes," I said, sealing it with another kiss that lasted longer than it should have with Cooper potentially watching from his treehouse.

The evening ended with quiet contentment as we prepared for another week of work and school, but now as a family unit that was becoming more solid and real every day. Cooper fell asleep in the treehouse despite our warnings about the cold, and we had to carry him inside wrapped in blankets, grumbling about "ruining his adventure."

"Daddy!"Cooper called as I rounded the corner of the house. "Look what Mr. Mitchell helped me make!"

He held up an elaborate volcano model, complete with painted rocks and a carefully constructed crater. "We're going to make it erupt tomorrow for show-and-tell!"

"That's incredible, buddy," I said, genuinely impressed with their handiwork. "What's the secret ingredient?"

"Baking soda and vinegar," Cooper whispered conspiratorially. "Mr. Mitchell says it's all about chemical reactions."

"The same chemical reactions that are going to destroy your kitchen table if we're not careful," Ezra added, appearing with protective plastic sheets.

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