Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
“Brody is… he’s wonderful. He loves my girls so well—and I don’t mean that he makes sure they get their biannual dental cleaning and brings them lemon honey tea when they have a cold.” Though he did those things, too. “Brody’s genuinely interested in what they have to say, and he gets enthusiastic about what they’re enthusiastic about. Do you know, when Mia wanted to take up archery because she saw it in a Disney movie, Brody started taking lessons with her?” I chuckled to myself. Mia had been a quick study, but Brody’s aim was objectively terrible to this day. “When Cleo became passionate about ichthyology, Brody helped her research fish tanks and got us one on Facebook Marketplace. And when Jacey’s musical theater group did Hairspray last spring, he learned all the choreography so he could help her practice. All while managing a full college course load of his own for a software engineering degree. Brody’s the best thing that ever happened to the girls and me. He’s an incredible role model, and he helps me to be a better dad. So, I—” I broke off, a little horrified by my own rambling. Shit. I was way too tired for this meeting. “I’m so sorry. What was the question?”
Dean Larson’s face had morphed from its earlier businesslike mien into something liquid-soft and approachable. It was the sort of face my girls made when Brody showed them cute kitten GIFs. The sort of face Brody himself made when we’d encountered a golden retriever puppy gamboling around the playground last Saturday. I wasn’t sure what I’d said to put that OMG-look-at-the-cuteness expression on the dean’s face.
“I think you’ve answered my question perfectly, Dr. Brighton.” She beamed. “And, might I add, Mr. Kelly is a very lucky man to be spoken of so highly.”
“Oh.” I returned her smile uncertainly. “Not at all. We’re the lucky ones to have him.”
“That’s lovely. Just lovely.” She gave me a quick wink. “You know, we’re supportive of all kinds of families here at Mountbatten. We embrace diversity.”
I nodded. That was one of the things I’d considered carefully before agreeing to Jacey’s request that we apply. I’d read several peer-reviewed journal studies about the importance of diversity to improve outcomes for children across the board, particularly with their mental health. More than that, it was something I felt strongly about on a personal level.
I hadn’t figured out I was gay until surprisingly late—as in, not until five years ago, when my ex-wife had already decided she was unfulfilled by our quiet suburban life and suggested exploring what would make each of us truly happy… separately. I wasn’t sure that having access to an LGBTQ+ alliance like the one Mountbatten offered back when I was in high school would have changed that outcome in the slightest, but it couldn’t have hurt.
“We simply like to make sure that all applicants come from a family environment that will enable their families to be active in our little community,” she went on. “Fundraising, intramural sports and extracurricular activities, social events… they don’t just happen. To best support our children, it takes a village, Dr. Brighton.”
I nodded again. “That sounds… great.” In theory. “But, ah.” I tugged at the collar of my button-down and considered my current patient load, which already made it tricky to get home for family dinner many nights. “What level of involvement would I be required to take on as a parent?”
“Well, obviously, we understand that many of our parents have demanding careers. As a doctor, I’m sure there’ll be times when you won’t be available for the girls’ school events…”
“Yes.” I let out a relieved breath. The last thing I wanted was for my career to hold the girls back from anything.
“…but on those occasions, they’ll have their other dad here,” she said brightly. “Which will be perfect.”
I blinked at the dean uncomprehendingly. “Their… other dad,” I repeated.
“Stepfather, bonus parent.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever Mr. Kelly chooses to call himself within your own family will be respected, of course.”
“Mr. Kelly. Of course,” I echoed faintly.
I had the sinking feeling that “full-time childcare specialist” was not going to cut it here.
I conjured an image of Brody in my mind. At twenty-four years old, he was still young—ten years younger than me—but the way he’d taken on responsibility in our household right away made it clear that he was incredibly mature for his age. More mature than I was sometimes, at least when it came to understanding the girls’ needs. My sister, Gwen, often said I had a “brilliant brain for medicine that doesn’t allow room for much else,” which was a nicer way of saying that I was a workaholic who sucked at emotions.
When he’d moved in, Brody had been attending college nearby and had needed a position that offered room and board close to campus. But what had started out as a convenient arrangement for both of us had become so much more. He was the one the girls went to when they woke up in the middle of the night with bad dreams. He was the one who raced to school with forgotten homework and left-behind lunch boxes. He was even the one my mother called first when making plans that included us.