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The morning after the annual Eurovision watch party, I sneak out of my bedroom in the Manse, leaving eight and nine to continue sleeping in, and make my way down to the kitchen, where I find Stephen quietly sitting in the nook, hunched over a big mug of coffee. His glasses are folded on the table, and he seems to be breathing in its aroma the way one would a bowl of hot water when battling the flu.
“Morning,” I say as I check the kettle.
He lifts his head, blinks at me, picks up his glasses and slips them on. “Morning, muffin.”
I grab a mug out fo the cabinet, drop a teabag into it, pour boiling water into it. “You uh… feeling OK?”
He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Oh I really shouldn’t have taken Joliver up on his drinking game.”
I snort, half smile. “I warned you about that,” I say, then start fiddling with the espresso machine.
“How could I forget that Eurovision had more pyrotechnics than a war in the Middle East?”
I giggle. “You want me to make you some eggs or something?”
He smiles sleepily. “Thank you, but I’ll wait until Jon or Steve come down. I don’t wanna put you out.”
“I don’t mind. How about some cereal at least? I’m gonna have some cinnamon Life.”
“That’d be nice, yeah.”
I set the machine to make a double and then step away to get bowls, cereal, and milk out for the two of us. I put everything in front of him and turn to get some spoons when William comes in, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Hey, buddy, you hungry?” I ask as I check the coffee.
He hugs my middle as he nods. “Hmmm hmmm.”
“What would you like?”
He shrugs as he watches me pour the espresso into a small thermos and twist the top closed. “I dunno.”
“Alright, well, while you’re thinking about it, could you do me a favor and bring this up to your Papa in my room? But be quiet, he’s still sleeping with Papi.”
William yawns again, but nods gamely. “OK.”
“Are your sisters up?”
He shrugs as I hand him the thermos.
“If they are, tell them to be quiet too. Now go on.”
He nods and walks away, and I finish up prepping my tea, then go to sit in the booth beside Stephen. I rub his back between his shoulders and kiss his cheek, then take a bite of the cereal and milk he poured out for me. I study his profile as he lets out a heavy sigh, then I lean my head on his shoulder.
“Soon, you’ll have more mornings like this,” I say softly.
“What, hungover?” he grumbles.
I gently jab his ribs with my elbow. “No, silly, just quiet and unrushed,” I say, then sip my tea. “I know you plan on a lot of drinking after this week, but I’ll be damned if I let you go overboard.”
He finally smiles for real, gazes at me lovingly. “I knew I could count on you to keep me in line,” he says, wrapping one arm around me as he takes a big gulp of his coffee. He kisses my temple, nuzzles his stubbly cheek against mine. “You know I’ll grow a beard now.”
I roll my eyes. “I assumed as much. Just keep it neat and trim. I know your life goal is to be a scraggly old hermit sea captain but we don’t need you scaring the children.”
That gets a laugh, and my heart lifts. “I’ll try to keep it respectable… unless you hate it.”
“No, no, you look fine with the Colbeard. It does make your face bigger, but you look handsome.”
“I thought I had a chance of bringing it back ever since your last two husbands came in with lovely facial hair.”
“Just don’t do the mustache alone,” I say as I touch his upper lip. “You’ll scare more than the kids.”
He chuckles. “Alright, fair enough.”
A few minutes go by as we eat our breakfast in silence, then I reach up and caress Stephen’s face. He turns to me and I give him a more serious look. “You’ll be OK,” I say with as much conviction as possible, but I feel tears start to well up. “I’m so proud of you.”
Stephen’s lips tremble with his smile, and he tears up immediately, puts down his coffee and hugs me with both arms. “I love you too, sweetheart. Thank you for everything.”
“Thank you for always making me smile,” I say. “Between you and Jon and Joliver, I’m kept clinically sane.”
He chuckles, but then captures me with a serious look. “You wanna know what I’ve always wished for you, honeybun?”
“What could I possibly want more than this?”
He cocks his head, picks up my hand, rubs it tenderly. “I’ve always thought you and Joliver should just throw it in and get hitched.”
“What, really?” I say, blushing. I chuckle nervously, completely thrown off. “Stephen, I… I don’t know what to say—”
He shakes his head, still smiling warmly. “Life is short, my darling. Why not?”
“But then who’d be my deputy? He’s served so well in that role, I need someone a little bit removed from the husband circle to keep everything in line.”
“Well, then maybe someone else deserves to be promoted in his place.”
I laugh again, but then I blink at the sincerity in his expression. “Who on earth—”
“Maybe Pedro? He’d be perfect, actually. He’s polite and loyal and discreet—”
“Oh, Pedro, I do adore him, but he’s not as close to me as Joliver—Wait, why are we even discussing this right now? Do you just want a wedding to distract you from your… predicament?”
Stephen opens his mouth to protest, but then he takes off his glasses and sighs. “I dunno, sweetie, perhaps I am. But I’m telling the truth. I’d assumed you’d have made John husband by now. It’s been so many years.”
“Stephen, cornmuffin…” I say, caressing his cheek. “Look, I can’t marry everyone. I can barely keep up with the ones I have. I love Joliver very much. I truly do. And he knows that. But I need him where he is. He’s a kind of neutral ground for me. A sounding board that has no echo. He knows me well enough to anticipate everything and fix it before I have to even know about it. He takes good care of us all.”
He grins. “Reminds me of how you tried avoiding marrying me!”
“Oh, Stephen,” I say, still blushing. “I am glad I gave in to you.”
“So am I,” he says, leaning in to kiss me slowly with his pillowy soft mochi lips I could never resist. It’s right then that William returns to the kitchen.
“Momma?”
“Hmm?” I mumble, startled out of the kiss. I look over my shoulder and smile. “Are your dads up yet?”
William nods, smiling as he itches at a scab on his knee.
“Don’t scratch that, sweetie, it’ll fall off by itself when it’s ready. Now, have you figured out what you want for breakfast?”
William shrugs again, scuttles over to hop into the booth with us. He scoots close and hugs me from the side, saying, “Do we have toaster strudel?”
“Hmmm, yes, I believe we have strawberry ones. Is that what you want?”
He nods. “I wanna do the frosting myself.”
“You got it, bud.”
“Good morning, folks!” Joliver says cheerfully as he arrives, still in his dressing gown and slippers. “Have you all breakfasted or is there something I can get started on for you?”
I glance at Stephen and wink, then look to Joliver. “Yes, William would like a toaster strudel.”
Joliver yawns, but goes straight to the freezer to retrieve my son’s request. “Coming right up, my young master William.”
Hopping back out of the booth, William rushes over to Joliver’s side. “I wanna do the frosting!”
Joliver tears off one little packet of white icing and hands it to the boy. “Naturally, sir.”