Free Summer Son by Anna Martin Page A

heat, and I licked out the last drop of flavor before releasing him.
    “That was some hello,” he said, and I grinned.
    “Hello.”
    He held up his other hand, where he had been hiding a fresh bottle of lube. I laughed then, right from my belly, and decided he was even more wonderful than I’d first thought.
    “What’s for dinner?”
    “It’s called ratatouille. It’s a layered vegetable dish with tomato sauce. It’s really good.”
    Zane touched my cheek lightly and smiled. “I know what ratatouille is, baby.”
    “Oh,” I said, blushing. “Good. I’ve got mozzarella to go on top, but I wasn’t sure if you eat cheese.”
    “I do, sometimes,” he said. “Not eggs, though.”
    “Okay, good to know. I also made sourdough garlic bread.”
    “I thought I could smell something,” he said, planting his hand firmly on my hips so we could sway together.
    “I’ve been making sourdough for ages. It’s really good. You can keep the same starter and use it over and over again. My mom has a sourdough starter that’s years old.”
    “Cool,” he said. “Where’s Harrison?”
    I nodded toward the living room. Zane rose up on his toes, kissed my jaw, and wandered off to find my son. They sounded delighted to see each other again.
    The ratatouille was easy enough to make, and I’d already done the hard work. All that was left was to put the cheese on top and bake it. With the bread cooling on the counter and not needing my attention, I opened the bottle of wine and poured two glasses.
    Zane was on the floor with Harrison between his knees, the two of them playing with a stack of bricks and trains. I set his wine on the coffee table and perched on the edge of the sofa to watch them.
    “Lupe called me earlier,” Zane said, tipping his head back to rest on my knee.
    “Oh?”
    “Yeah. She invited us for dinner one night with her and Az.”
    I laughed. “That sounds good. But you should know, Az only wants to give me hell. When I took Harrison to the clinic, he took blood from me to do a full STI screening.”
    “That’s hilarious. He did mine a few days ago.”
    “But because of confidentiality, he’s not allowed to tell either of us that he’s done it for the other,” I said as the realization dawned on me.
    Zane grinned up at me from the floor. “Brilliant. We shouldn’t let him know that we both know. See if we can make him crack.”
    “You wonderful little evil genius,” I said. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I love it.”
    “I’ll let Lupe know you’re in.”
    Zane played a good game of trains, but I could tell Harrison was getting tired. I wasn’t sure how he’d react to being made to go to bed when his new favorite playmate was around. There was only one way to find out.
    “I’m just going to make up his bottle,” I said, and Zane nodded.
    “Okay. Do you, um, read him a story before bed?”
    “Sometimes.”
    “I’ll find him one.”
    There wasn’t exactly a shortage of stories to pick from on my bookshelf, and I kept Harrison’s picture books on the bottom, so he could go to them if he wanted. Zane had a nice voice, and I wanted to listen in to whatever he chose.
    I’d perfected making the formula almost in my sleep, so the process didn’t take long. I still hovered before walking back to the living room, though, wanting to catch whatever it was Zane was reading. He’d picked the story about the penguin with two dads, and my heart gave another painful thump in my chest.
    It was a picture book, so Zane had Harrison on his lap, the book held in front of them so Harrison could see the illustrations. Zane narrated and also pointed out things in the story, just like I did.
    He caught me watching and gave me a smile before returning to his story. Harrison looked enraptured. I went back into the kitchen to finish making up the bottle, then took it to the sofa to sit with them.
    “Ready, baba?” I asked when Zane closed the book and set it aside.
    He