Page 149 of Legally Ours

"Looks like we're going to have some Little League games to go to in the spring," Brandon said as he smacked his hands together eagerly. "These guys are going to need to get into some sports and stuff."

"Qu'est que c'est Little League?" Christoph asked his sister, who just shook her head.

"Je ne sais pas," she said in her quick, snippy way.

"Oh, man," said Brandon as he picked the little boy up and swung him onto his back, provoking a barrage of giggles. "Do I have some stuff to show you."

"You'll spend Christmas with us," I told Annabelle. "And lots of weekends, okay?"

The child glowed when, after a moment, she nodded her head.

"Oui," she said. "Okay."

I nodded. "Now let's go get some hot dogs and stare at some wax people."

"Wax?" Christoph yelped from his place on Brandon's shoulder. "What is wax people?"

We all erupted in laughter, and Annabelle and I followed the boys out the door so we could show him just what I meant.

~

Later that night, after the kids had gone back to Janette's family on the Upper East Side, and Brandon and I were alone, I turned to him in the darkness. The hotel blinds were open, and the glow of the city shone through the window, an eerie reminder that in a city like New York, we were never really alone. Already I yearned for the peace of our property in Brookline. I missed hearing the wind in the trees outside our bedroom.

"I keep thinking about them at that school, by themselves," I said.

Brandon was turned away, looking toward the Central Park view. He waited a few moments, then turned to face me.

"Me too," he said. "They're so young."

I knew without asking that he was remembering essentially being abandoned by his parents––multiple times––by that age. One day I thought we might be able to take them in permanently, and I had a feeling that Brandon felt the same way. But that didn't need to happen right away. There was this feeling that for the first time in a while, maybe we could take things a bit more gradually. Maybe things didn't have to be such a rush.

"How did it feel today," he asked quietly. "Facing Messina like that?"

I lay back on my pillow and looked up at the ceiling. The events of the trial had been on repeat over and over again in my mind, always ending with Messina's nasty threat at the end. But he was guilty. He was being held, and then he would be sentenced in another two weeks. And considering the way he had looked at him at the end, I doubted the judge would be lenient.

"It feels good," I said finally. "I feel...lighter."

My therapist had been right. There was some closure in being here. I wouldn't feel completely at ease until I knew the man was locked away for good, but this was a start. A really, really good one.

"I thought so," Brandon said.

We lay side by side, looking up at the ceiling, breathing silently for a bit.

"Dr. Jefferson thinks I need to do the same thing," he said quietly.

I said nothing, just listened curiously. Brandon didn't talk much about his ongoing therapy sessions other than to grumble when his weekly appointment came around. But they did seem to be helping.

"He thinks I need to visit my father."

It was clear from the way Brandon said it that he didn't mean Ray. I turned again on my side. The moonlight cast a bluish glow over his bare chest, and made his eyes look almost alien in the dark. Alien and incredibly beautiful.

"I've never seen him," Brandon said softly. "Not since he went in again when I was a teenager. He's supposed to get out in two years. Did you know that?"

Wordlessly, I nodded. Brandon had told me about John Sterling on our first real date. I remembered everything.

"Why do you want to see him?" I asked.

Brandon sighed, then turned onto his side.