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“I’m sorry to butt in, but Danae has made her feelings pretty clear. We’re going to head inside the courtroom, but you’re not going to follow us,” he says, voice a deceptive calm. I know there’s a raging river underneath, waiting to be provoked.

Apparently, my father is wise (or cowardly) enough to not cause a scene confronting the darling of Kansas City in a public setting. His eyes narrow, but he quickly adjusts his expression. “We’ll be in touch, Danae,” he says, artificial smile back in place. Placing a hand on my astonished mother’s back, he retreats down the hallway.

Griffin takes my hand and asks, “Are you okay?”

“No, and yes,” I say. I look up to meet his concerned eyes. “Sometimes we can feel both.”

He traces a knuckle down my cheek, then brings my hand up to his lips to kiss my fingers.

I smile at him and call for Jason. “Let’s get in there. It’s forever time.”

After court, we have a celebratory lunch with Griffin, Sam, Kara, and Ron. By the end of lunch, I can tell that Jason is teetering between the happy and sad emotions of the day, so we part ways with the larger group. Jason isn’t ready to go home yet, so we decide to go to a park and enjoy the gorgeous spring day. Kara has a key to my townhouse, so she and Ron offer to drop my car off there so that Jason and I can ride with Griffin. He suggests we make an ice cream pit stop on the way to the park, and I heartily agree. We drive to my favorite local ice cream shop so I can get my beloved Maddy’s Mud flavor. Griffinstays true to his “classy” self and picks strawberry, and Jason also stays true to character, choosing the Kansas City Crowns-inspired blue ice cream. We find a quiet park nearby, and I cross my fingers that the handful of people out on the walking trails won’t give us a second glance.

Jason is quieter than usual and only eats a few bites of his ice cream before scampering off to the swings. Hopefully the sensory back-and-forth movement of the swing will help his body calm down after such an emotional roller coaster of a day.

We spend a couple of hours at the park, going for a slow walk together when Jason tires of the swings. By early evening, Jason’s clearly running out of steam but trying his hardest to stay upbeat. When we get back to the parking lot after our walk, Griffin opens the door for Jason to climb into the backseat while I open the passenger door. I notice that Jason’s chin is quivering, but before I can ask him what’s wrong, Griffin’s already leaning through the open door toward him.

“You feeling kinda sad, Fireball?” Griffin gently inquires.

A tear forges a path down Jason’s cheek, dripping off his chin. “Maybe a little.”

Griffin nods in understanding, giving Jason enough courage to whisper, “I just still kinda miss my dad sometimes, ya know? I miss my good-day dad.”

“That totally makes sense for you to miss him and be sad sometimes. You love your dad. Today doesn’t change that. Your mom and I are always here if you’re sad and need to talk about it. It’s safe for you to talk about missing your dad, okay?” Griffin says, and Jason nods. “Would you like a hug, Jason?”

Jason nods again and lunges forward to wrap his arms around Griffin’s neck, a tiny sob escaping as he does. Tears freely flow down my own cheeks. “I love you, little man,” I hear Griffin whisper. When he meets my eyes, still embracing Jason, I see that all three of us are crying.

It’s a happy, hard, sad, heavy, celebratory day, all wrapped into one. A constant conflict of feelings that we’ll face together. Safe together.

We grab dinner on the way home to my townhouse, which Jason picks at before practically falling asleep at the table. He gets ready forbed early, and the three of us pile onto his twin bed to read half a chapter of ourHarry Potterbook before we say goodnight.

Once Jason is asleep, I change out of my dress and into a matching sweatsuit, needing every tangible form of comfort available. Griffin’s still dressed up, although he’s unbuttoned the top buttons of his dress shirt by the time I join him on the couch—a fact I’m not sad about. I trace the line of his collar bone as I sit snuggled under the crook of his arm, my legs draped over his.

“Thanks for rescuing me today,” I say.

“Apparently, you lived a different day than I did, because I did not rescue you. You needed no rescuing,” he says, tilting my chin to look at him.

“Okay. But thank you for being here today. Thanks for missing a game so you could come,” I respond, eyes already swimming with tears.

“I know I was going for the surprise factor, but did you honestly think that I could miss out on such a huge day for you and Jason?” Griffin asks. He grins wryly as he adds, “Not to mention Sam. She’d never miss this either.”

“Fair point,” I say with a giggle. Withdrawing myself from Griffin’s side, I sit on my knees next to him, taking his hands in mine.

“I’m not sure about this body language,” he says, sounding concerned. “This seems like a backward step from your legs draped over mine and your fingertips on my skin.”

“I need to look at your face when I tell you this,” I say.

“You’re not helping,” he says.

“Sorry, I should have led with ‘nothing’s wrong,’” I tease, and that finally cracks a genuine smile out of him. “Or, maybe it would be more accurate to say there were some things wrong, and there probably always will be some things wrong, but I’m choosing to not be afraid to have things be wrong sometimes.”

“You’ve lost me,” Griffin says, and I cover my face with my hands. He’s quick to grab my wrists and pull my hands down. “Nope, don’t do that. Let me see those beautiful eyes, no matter what it is you’re going to tell me.”

The look on his face is so tender, so real, so open—I can’t believe I let myself consider turning away from this love.

“You’re safe for me,” I say. Griffin’s eyes squint slightly as he computes what I’m trying to say. I shake my head and start over. “Your mom encouraged me to start seeing a therapist for myself, separate from Jason, and talking with her has made me realize some things.”

He gives my hands a gentle squeeze, and I take a deep breath. “I grew up feeling like I didn’t have a safe place. Home was not safe for me. School wasn’t safe. When Jason moved in, I wasbeingthe safe place for this precious little boy. And it was a lot, even though I didn’t fully realize how overwhelming it was going to be. Then, suddenly, I had you. And you quickly became very, very safe for me. You proved yourself trustworthy far more quickly than I’ve ever trusted someone before. You felt like the safe home I never had, even if I couldn't consciously name that feeling. But logically, it didn’t make sense for you to be safe because your schedule is so unreliable. On paper, a life with you doesn’t appear secure. So, my brain was trying to sabotage me into pushing you away because I was afraid to lose my safe place.”