Page 52 of When Ben Loved Jace (He Loved Him #2)

My husband is turning thirty. I’m both filled with adoration for him and beset by lowkey despair, because it sounds so damn old.

Positively ancient! In gay years, this makes him the equivalent of fifty.

He probably qualifies for senior citizen discounts at most of the bars.

Ah well. I’ve always preferred men a little older than me, and at least he’s going out with a blast.

We decided to stage the party in our backyard, where we were delighted to discover a number of flowering trees.

I mean, we obviously knew the trees were there, but this is our first spring at the house, so seeing them blossom with colorful blooms was a welcome surprise.

Brian loaned us folding tables and chairs for the special occasion.

He’s here with Allison, their relationship still going strong.

And of course Michelle and Greg wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

Jace even used some airline points to fly his parents down.

They’re currently chilling with my own, our dads tending the grill.

Adrien brought a date with him. Caleb, who has fostered a not-so-secret crush on him since college, finally worked up the nerve to ask Adrien out at our wedding. They’ve been together ever since.

That just leaves the youngest members of our family.

Samson… and the little girl who is carrying him around the yard.

I’m officially an uncle! It happened overnight, from my perspective.

I suppose that’s how these things usually work, but they sure do grow up fast. Emma is a ten-year-old chubby little cherub with honey-blond hair and a precocious personality.

I watch her raise the cat up so he can swat at leaves, which attracts her father’s attention.

“He’s a boxer, like you are,” Greg says. “Come show me what you’ve got!”

Emma sets Samson down before rushing over to her adopted father. She’s a total daddy’s girl, possessing his exuberance and the same taste in movies.

“Come at me like I’m Captain Communist in Rock Fist IV ,” Greg says, holding up his palms.

Emma takes the traditional boxer pose and begins punching his hands. Which is cute, but the back of his chair is resting against the table that holds the presents and cake .

“Your title or your life!” Emma hisses while pummeling him.

“Naw, that’s the bad guy’s line,” Greg whispers. “You’re fighting for your—”

“I remember!” she replies before trying again. “What did you do with my wife? And her bridesmaids?”

“You’ll never find out unless you can defeat me!” Greg growls while ducking and dodging.

“Uh, guys?” I say, my concern going unheard.

“Gah!” Greg cries, leaving himself open so she can jab him in the chin. “You might have won the fight, but you’ll never find my secret sewer lair!”

The tower of presents is wobbling dangerously now.

“Okay, you two,” I say, marching over. “Take it outside. Or maybe inside. Just not here. If that cake ends up in the grass, I’m gonna cry.”

“Sorry, Uncle Ben,” Emma says sullenly.

“Blame the parent, not the child,” Jace says, walking over to put an arm around my shoulder.

“I would, but I’m having a hard time telling them apart.”

Greg grins shamelessly before something occurs to him. “Hey!” he says to his daughter. “You know what we should watch? The Kickboxer Kid ! You’d love that movie. The whole trilogy actually. It’s about this girl who moves into a new town and befriends a grumpy old janitor that—”

“What’s a kickboxer?” Emma asks.

“It’s like normal boxing except you get to use your feet.”

“Do you have to wear special shoes? Like boxing gloves?”

“Huh? No. You fight barefoot.”

“Gross!”

“No way! It’s awesome!” Greg raises his palms again. “Show me your best high kick.”

“Okay,” I interrupt. “Maybe we should open these presents so we can have some cake before it gets rolled in dirt.”

“That’s how they do it in your family,” Jace says. “ We start with the cake.” He holds up his hand for a high five. “Right?”

“Yes!” Emma replies, leaping to slap his palm.

She jostles the table as she lands.

“Works for me,” I say, probably looking a little pale, because the cake wasn’t exactly cheap. “Is everybody here?”

Jace glances around. “Where’s my sister? ”

Greg shrugs. “She went inside like… half an hour ago.”

I glance at the house. “Emma, guard the cake with your life. Don’t do anything your father tells you. He’s a bad influence. I’ll be right back.”

I expect to find Michelle taking a nap or locked in the bathroom, but she’s not in the house. Only when I glance out front do I see her. For whatever reason, she has a fully extended tape measure stretching from the walkway to Jace’s old trailer.

“What are you doing?” I ask when joining her.

“Hm? Oh.” She pushes a button to retract the tape. “I’m performing an inspection.” I watch her pick up a clipboard to jot something down.

“Did I pass? Wait, what kind of inspection?”

She smiles at me. “You want to start a family with Jace, don’t you?”

“Yeah! I mean, I guess so. Eventually. I didn’t think that was possible until we buy another house, since we only have the one bedroom.”

“That’s what I thought too, but then I got to thinking that the trailer is like a second bedroom. Heck, with the bathroom and kitchen, it’s practically a whole apartment.”

I perk up at this news. “Would that work?”

“Not for a little kid,” Michelle says. “They need too much supervision. But for a teenager? Maybe. Could you imagine having a setup like this when you were younger?”

“I would’ve loved it,” I admit. “So we’d only qualify for a teenager?”

She nods. “Even then, I’d have to make a good case. Technically you should be sharing the same roof with them. But for someone who is older and more self-sufficient, it could work.”

I chew my bottom lip without comment.

She notices my hesitation. “I know, everybody wants them to be as young as possible. That’s why I’m so passionate about helping the older kids. They get overlooked all the time, when they have just as many needs.”

“A teenager though?” I ask. “They’ll be all grown up in a few years. That isn’t enough time to form a bond. It would be more like having a tenant. One who doesn’t pay rent.”

Michelle smiles. “Emma has only been with us a few months now, and she already feels like part of the family. I don’t think her age has anything to do with that. How long did it take you to fall in love with Jace?”

“A matter of months, if even that.”

“And he was a grown man. In my line of work, children older than eight are much less likely to be adopted. Which is a shame, because I suspect many people feel the way you do and assume it isn’t possible to forge a connection with someone older.

And yet we do anyway when choosing a life partner or making friends. ”

“You’re right,” I say. “But still… a teenager ?”

She laughs. “I know. They don’t have the best reputation.”

“For good reason. The memories are still fresh, because I was one a little over six years ago!”

“All the better! You’ll be able to relate more to what they’re going through.

Adoption doesn’t have to be the first step.

We decided to with Emma because I wanted her to know she had found her forever family.

That sort of security is important at her age.

Someone older who has been in the system for a long time needs a different kind of support—a platform to launch their adult life from.

Foster care would already be enough to provide that. ”

“I feel like I only recently got my own life together.”

“That’s okay. Maybe it won’t be this year or the next. But when you are ready, I want you to know that it’s an option.”

I consider the trailer and try to imagine someone living there.

A teenager who would join us for breakfast, maybe need a ride to school, and show up again in the evening to hang out.

That doesn’t sound bad. Having another person around might be nice.

Especially with Jace out of town so often.

“Have you talked to my husband about any of this?”

Michelle shakes her head. “I don’t need to.”

“Because he’s your brother?”

“Because he’s Jace. I know exactly what he’ll say.”

She’s right. He would immediately agree, thinking with his heart instead of his head. That’s just the kind of guy he is.

We walk to the backyard. Allison and I sing a harmonic rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ to him, the others joining in at the end.

Jace smiles at me after blowing out the candles.

I try to picture us as foster parents, but that vision of the future remains elusive.

At least until he begins unwrapping presents.

“I claim a birthday tax,” Emma declares, glancing at Greg with uncertainty before he nods in encouragement. "Payable immediately.”

“A birthday tax!” Jace says in shock. “Hmm… Let’s see.” He carefully considers the wrapped presents, putting on a big show of deliberating before handing one to his niece. “It’s just a bunch of boring socks anyway. My mom gets them for me every year.”

Emma stops tearing the paper off to narrow her eyes in suspicion. Then she keeps going and gasps in excitement. “A friendship bracelet maker! Just what I wanted!”

“Oh darn,” Jace says, pretending to pout. “That’s what I wanted too.”

“I’ll make you a bracelet,” Emma promises.

She rushes over to hug him. I’m baffled by the entire thing. Who ever heard of a birthday tax? And how did Jace know to be prepared?

Greg is grinning from ear to ear. He must have conspired with his best friend. All I know for sure, as I watch Jace enthusiastically inspect the colorful images on the box with Emma, is that he’d be a wonderful father. To a child of any age. When we’re ready.

— — —

He’s out there again. In the audience, watching me. I’m almost certain, but I need to know for sure, because if it isn’t him that reflects poorly on me. I should not be imagining my ex-boyfriend. Especially in the middle of a show.