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“You suck, Dad!” exclaims Vincent. Leo sends a funnel of water into his face. “Hey!”

“Don’t embarrass me in front of the lady, bud!”

Vincent chortles. “You don’t need me for that.”

Cue water fight.

Watching them hollering and laughing, I’m high on happiness. The last five weeks with Leo have been frighteningly perfect. During the week, we juggle schedules to see each other at least every other day. He has a toothbrush in my bathroom; I have one in his. When my work schedule allows a weekend day together, we take advantage. We’ve already been hiking, kayaking, and cycling. Once, we spent an entire day making love.

Despite Leo’s insistence that it’s okay, I haven’t stayed over yet on the nights Vincent does, mainly out of respect for their bonding time. But they’re both working on me—Vincent’s fond of telling me how dumb it is when I’m not there for breakfast.

Vincent… God, I adore that kid. He’s witty, smart, and kind, just like his father. We’ve taken him to a Kings game, the arcade, and had several pizza-and-movie nights. But my favorite moment of all was when I dropped him off at a friend’s house for a sleepover one night because Leo was tied up on an emergency call from a client. Driving Leo’s car—and Leo’s human—and knowing that both father and son felt safe having me do so was a defining moment of my new life. I floated on a pink cloud for days.

Our Thanksgivings were separate, but Marianne extended an invitation for me to join them for dessert. After being assured multiple times by Leo that the offer was genuine, I bit the bullet and showed up. Of course I was worried for nothing. She and Celia are some of the most good-natured, humble people I’ve ever met. Both of them were beyond tickled by Leo’s casual signs of affection—a hand on my back, a kiss on my cheek, a whisper in my ear.

I’m in love with him.

So hopelessly in love.

Back at Oasis, when Callum asked me what romantic love felt like, I didn’t know how to answer him. I could only relate via my unhealthy patterns of my past. Turns out I had no fucking idea what love felt like because I’d never been in it before.

My answer would be different today. Love is waking up in the middle of the night and feeling someone’s hand in yours. Love is squabbling over the remote and playing footsie during dinner and peeing with the door open and planning for birthdays and holidays. Love is the firmest ground in the world and a never-ending fall.

“What are you smiling about?” asks Vincent, poking me in the arm.

I grin down at him. “I’m happy.”

“Me too! You know what else?”

“What?”

He splashes me in the face. Leo thinks it’s hysterical—until Vincent and I attack.

After dropping Vincent off at Marianne and Celia’s, Leo and I grab burritos to-go and take them back to his place. We eat in the living room by the light of the fireplace and an enormous Christmas tree the three of us decorated last weekend.

We inhale our food, then clean up and return to our spot before the glowing fireplace with glasses of wine. It’s not really cold enough for a fire, but Leo knows I’m a sucker for ambiance.

“So what’d you get me for Christmas?”

Leo smirks at me, the firelight playing over his features. Lounging on an elbow with his bare feet near the heat, he looks cozy, content, and ridiculously sexy.

“Nunya business.”

“Come on,” I whine. Switching tactics, I run a hand up his thigh to his crotch. “I’ll give you a handy if you tell me.”

He chuckles, lifting his hips to give me better access to his zipper. “You’ll do that anyway.”

I swat his hard stomach, then tilt my head. “You’re right. But I still want to know. Or open a present.”

He gapes. “What’s wrong with you?”

“My mom was like a little kid at Christmas. It was her favorite holiday, but she couldn’t stand waiting for the actual day. Starting on the twenty-second, she’d let us open one small gift after dinner. Basically you’re disrespecting Sloan tradition if you don’t let me open something.”

Leo laughs. “That’s low.”

I offer my sweetest smile.

Grumbling good-naturedly, he rolls toward the tree and snatches a small, flat box from a branch, then tosses it in my lap. “There you go, master manipulator.”