Truly yours

Vivian

“Mom, what is sex?”

Liam came running into the kitchen and dropped the ultimate parental bomb out of nowhere. I almost swallowed my own tongue along with the piping-hot coffee I had just taken a sip of.

Cough. Gasp. Internal panic.

“Liam, where did you hear that word?” I asked, deploying every ounce of parental composure I possessed. You simply cannot let your four-year-old monster-child see you baffled. It gives them leverage.

Liam tilted his head, giving me a look of pure, unadulterated toddler condescension. “Mom, do you ask me because you don’t know what it is?”

I blinked. Did my four-year-old just cross-examine me?

“Liam, it’s just a word,” I deflected weakly, gripping my mug like a lifeline.

“I know, Mom.”

Abort mission. Deflect immediately.

“Do you want cornflakes with milk, or delicious pancakes with banana and chocolate chips?” I fired back, smiling way too brightly.

Liam didn’t even blink. He planted his little hands on his hips, puffed out his chest, and screamed at the top of his lungs:

“I want sex!”

Me too, buddy, but I can’t exactly scream it across the kitchen table, I thought, wildly looking around as if the walls might judge me.

“Liam, keep your voice down!” I hissed, lunging forward to clamp a hand over his mouth. “Your Aunt Lydia is sleeping! Can’t you see her dead to the world on the couch?”

“Liam, why are you screaming so early today?” Lydia groaned from the couch, her voice muffled by a throw pillow.

“Aunty, Mom doesn’t know what sex is!” Liam announced, abandoning the kitchen to sprint full speed toward the living room.

Lydia pushed herself up, rubbing a sleep-rumpled mass of long, straight black hair out of her face. A slow, wickedly amused smirk spread across her lips.

“Oh, she knows what it is, honey,” Lydia said, shooting a deliciously sarcastic glance straight at the kitchen. “She’s just completely forgotten what it is like!”

Liam’s big brown eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated curiosity. “Do you know?”

“Of course your Auntie knows—and remembers,” Lydia purred, leaning forward. “It’s a—”

“It’s time for breakfast!” I yelled, vaulting across the kitchen counter like an Olympic athlete.

My voice echoed through the apartment, loud enough to wake the dead and save me from my best friend permanently corrupting my four-year-old.

“Okay fine, I will ask Dad, he knows. You know, Aunt Lydia, Dad knows everything!” Liam announced proudly, a smile stretching from ear to ear.

Lydia raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her lips twitching with dark amusement. “Oh, really? Did hell freeze over and the devil sell his kingdom?”

“Lydia, don’t start!” I groaned, tipping the coffee pot to refill my mug. Liquid caffeine was the only thing standing between me and a complete structural collapse of my morning.

“I am not, I just asked!” Lydia retorted innocently, holding up her hands in surrender while a triumphant grin gave her away.

Just saying Reid’s name first thing in the morning was enough to summon a headache, but knowing Liam was about to march up to his turtleneck-wearing, photography-obsessed father and ask him that specific question?

I took a very long, very desperate sip of my coffee. May the universe have mercy on Reid’s soul.

Liam walked triumphantly back to the kitchen, his little chest puffed out like he had just conquered a small country. He climbed up onto his barstool, eyes locked onto me with pure victory.

“Mom, sex,” he said, weaponizing the word like a tiny dictator.

I looked down at the plate of pancakes I had just slammed onto the table, then straight into his big, innocent, brown eyes.

“Son, eat.”

“Sex, sex, sex!” Liam chanted, beating a rhythmic tempo on the kitchen island just as the front doorbell started chiming in fierce harmony.

“I’ll get it,” Lydia called out from the living room, her tone dripping with the kind of malicious glee usually reserved for horror movie villains about to spring a trap.

I let out a breathless sigh of relief, quickly sliding a plate of chocolate-chip pancakes across the counter.

“Liam, eat your breakfast,” I said, a little too brightly as I plastered on my best fake-calm smile. “Because your dad is probably here to take you!”

And by probably, I meant the universe had a sick sense of humor and Reid Holden’s impeccable timing was practically clockwork.

The absolute worst thing about Reid Holden is that you always know it’s him before you even lay eyes on him. He doesn’t just walk into a room; he enters with this suffocating, infuriating calmness—a stark contrast to the absolute weather pattern of our son. Liam is a tornado and a whirlpool all wrapped into one, but Reid is the eye of the storm, completely unflappable.

A second ago, I had been standing right there, fully locked and loaded, ready to burst Reid’s calm, turtleneck-wearing bubble. But unfortunately for me, stealing that job from Liam was out of the question.

“Dad, do you know what sex is?” Liam asked, happily chewing away on a piece of pancake like he hadn’t just dropped a tactical nuke in our kitchen.

“Oh, kiddo, say a good morning first!” Reid said smoothly, flashing an effortless smile.

“Yes, Liam, give your daddy a minute so he can find an excuse not to answer a direct question!” Lydia chimed in from the doorway.

“Lydia,” I hissed in pure panic. And to think, I had actually woken up this morning foolishly thinking it was going to be peaceful!

“I know, Lydia. Vivian, don’t worry,” Reid replied, his voice dropping into that maddeningly relaxed register as he walked right past my best friend. He didn’t even flinch. He just pulled out the barstool right next to our son and sat down, completely unfazed by the circus he had just stepped into.

Desperate for a life raft, I grabbed the coffee pot, my knuckles turning white. “Do you want coffee? Breakfast?”

I didn’t even get to finish the sentence before Liam intercepted, slamming his sticky hand down on the counter.

“Sex!?”

“Liam, it’s a grown-up word,” Reid said, his composure holding firm under fire.

Liam tilted his head, his big brown eyes narrowing with suspicion. “So I can’t say it?”

“When you are a little bit older,” Reid reasoned smoothly.

“How old? Like you?” Liam asked, completely missing the insult while aiming straight for the jugular.

A corner of Reid’s mouth twitched, threatening a smile despite his best efforts. “I am not that old. But when you’re old enough to understand it, I’ll tell you.”

Liam narrowed his eyes further, weighing the terms of the negotiation like a seasoned diplomat. “Promise?” he asked, sticking out his small pinkie finger across the counter.

Reid looked down at the tiny hand, a softening passing over his sharp features that he usually only reserved for his son. Without missing a beat, Reid leaned, closing the distance, and locked his pinkie with Liam’s.

“So what is on the agenda today?” I asked, desperately trying to steer the conversation away from adult anatomy, pinkie promises, and my impending nervous breakdown.

“An adventure, Mom. As always,” Liam declared proudly, sliding off his stool as if he were chief of operations.

Reid shifted his attention from our son to me, his dark round eyes locking onto mine across the kitchen island. “What are you going to do?”

“Probably read and catch up with work, and then maybe I’ll go out with Lydia,” I said, taking a long, defiant gulp of my coffee.

“That’s good. You have to go out. But be careful,” Reid said, his tone casual, yet carrying that underlying weight that always managed to scratch at my nerves.

“I am always careful,” I snapped back, narrowing my eyes.

“One time she wasn’t, and look where we are now!” Lydia chimed in, sauntering into the kitchen with all the grace of a legal prosecutor ready to deliver the death blow.

Reid’s jaw tightened instantly, his smooth composure cracking just a fraction. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“What is it, Reid? You want a trip down memory lane?” Lydia asked, stepping closer with a dangerous, razor-sharp smile. “Because I have plenty of slides from university we can review.”

“Lydia, the kid is right here. Watch your words!” Reid warned, his voice dropping into a hard, protective register as he shot a sharp glare toward my best friend.

“Stop it, both of you. Now!” I commanded, setting my mug down hard on the counter. The sharp clack of ceramic against stone was enough to freeze the argument before it could fully ignite.

I turned my back on the brewing storm between my best friend and my ex, deliberately lowering the temperature in the room as I looked at my son.

“Liam, are your things ready to go with your dad?”

“Yes,” he said confidently, jutting his little chin out.

I stepped out from behind the island and crouched down to his level, gently straightening his bright blue collar. “Good. Be a good boy today, okay? And don’t pressure your dad too much.”

“I always am,” Liam boasted, though his mischievous eyes said otherwise. Then, he looked at me expectantly, waiting for our ritual. “Mom, say it!”

I smiled, my chest tightening the way it always did when it was time for him to leave. “Truly yours, baby. Always.”

I pulled him into my arms and hugged him tightly, burying my face in his almond-brown hair for just a second. This was the breaking point, every single time. No matter how crazy he drove me, handing him over—even to a good father—always left a small, hollow ache in my chest.

I stood up, sliding my hands into the back pockets of my jeans to keep them from shaking.

“Nice phrase!” Reid said, his voice dropping into a low, teasing register that felt entirely too intimate for a kitchen shared with Lydia.

“Don’t start!” I answered, my jaw locked.

“I am not. You said it, not me!” Reid told me, a smug edge wrapping around his words.

“To my kid, not you,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

“But you remembered,” he said softly.

Before I could fire back, he turned on his heel and walked out of the house, the door clicking shut behind him before I could even draw breath.

Yes, of course I remembered. That’s why I don’t believe in it anymore, I thought bitterly, turning my back on the empty doorway.