Page 200 of Headstrong Like Us

And a six-foot-two force of nature emerges from the lake house. Dark-brown hair thick and disheveled, sharp jaw clean-shaven, and eyes as tough and green as the surrounding trees, Maximoff has an unbending stride.

And he’s smiling.

Empty-handed, he hikes down the porch stairs to unpack more shit from the car. We come closer, and I give my husband a blatant once-over.

Maximoff pretends not to notice or care, but his smile grows.

We pass each other, and I tell him, “Nice ass.”

“I know.” His voice is pure confidence.

I let out a laugh and glance back at him. “Still cocky.”

He looks over his shoulder at me. And he must have a retort, but his eyes fall to the cases of water in my arms. “You need help?”

Still precious.I’m not even breaking a sweat. Something burrows in my heart, and fuck, I live for these moments with him. I laugh into a wider smile.

Maximoff promptly gives me a middle finger. “I retract my offer, by the way.”

I raise my brows. “But my offer for you stands if you need help with the big ones.”

Two middle fingers.

I’m doing things right this morning. We walk further apart, and I climb the short stairs to the porch.

“Da-da, da-da!” Ripley calls out, watching us unpack. We made him a comfortable spot on the porch in a rainforest-themed activity chair. And he can finally hold and drink out of a sippy cup without assistance. He shows off his yellow cup like he’s a big boy.

I stop for a second, my lips rising. “Is that your cup, little man?”

Ripley laughs and kicks his soft legs. He hoists the cup, mimicking how we’ve been carrying shit into the house.

My eyes burn. Yeah, that gets to me. It’s one of the most adorable fucking things in the world, and I don’t just wonder about the future. I do the torturous, yearning thing and picture Ripley trying to imitate us, looking up to his two dads. Growing older.

We’ll take him to swim meets or possibly baseball practice. Karate, football, or soccer. Hell, maybe he’ll be into music or art.

His best friend will most likely be this “scaredy bear” dog, who Ripley makes grabby-hands at, and when he cries about the monsters under his bed, we’ll ease his fears and stay until he falls asleep.

It’s bittersweet longing.

After I drop the cases of water in the kitchen, I come back outside and squat down to our son. “Look how far you and I have come,” I smile and brush a caring finger across his soft cheek.

He smiles back, two new teeth peeking from his gums.

Maximoff is still at the car, unloading our stuff.

I whisper to Ripley, “Just between us, I’m okay with you taking his side for the rest of our lives. I would too if I were you. He’s just that good.”

Ripley giggles and sips his drink.

I kiss his head, then rise again. Maximoff still wants more kids one day, and I do too. After a huge discussion with Jane and Thatcher, we all decided that it’s more likely we’ll have babies around the same time. So Jane wouldn’t be able to be our surrogate, but she’d give us her eggs.

I’m grateful as hell, and I can imagine a time not too far away where our biological kids exist. It goes without saying, but for Maximoff, we’ll have to choose an egg donor, and we’ll still need to find a surrogate. But those details just fill me with wantand desire for the future. Growing a family with the guy I love, there’s only happiness in that.

I trek casually back to the car.

We have the entire lake house to ourselves right now, but on our way here, we stopped at a grocery store. We packedour car to fucking capacity, and we weren’t shopping just for us.

At the end of the week, most of the families are spending the tail-end of summer here. So we’re helping stock the house before everyone arrives.