Addicted After All(193)

I’m in a gray woolen sweater. Beneath that is a white button-down and a green tie. A green and black scarf lies on my neck. I drive up to the guards at the neighborhood gate and verify who I am. Half a minute later, I pull into our driveway and park in the garage.

We split up to find the girls, and I carry both bags of ice inside. “Where’s my ‘puff?!” I shout as I kick the door open to the kitchen.

Lily looks up from a giant vat of punch, stirring the chunks of fruit with a spatula. I find myself slowing my pace, just to engrain this image of Lily: her cheeks rosy-red as she exerts extra effort, her gangly arms hidden beneath a black sweater and robe, her yellow tie peeking out by the collar.

“Me?” she asks, her nose crinkling in confusion. Christ, I want to kiss her. Wrap my arms around her.

I near Lil, setting the ice on the counter. Then I mockingly check over my shoulder. “Is there another Hufflepuff in the house, love?”

“Maximoff could be Hufflepuff one day,” she points out. “We don’t know yet.”

I don’t have to search far for him. He’s right beside Lily, in his bouncer on the floor. He sleeps in his black wizard robe. We thought about dressing him as Harry Potter with the scar, but he hated the plastic glasses.

“Or he could be Slytherin,” she notes, not leaving out my Hogwarts House. He could be almost anything, and I’d still be proud to call him my son.

There are small moments where I still fear for him. Struggles he may face, mistakes I know he’ll make, but I just remind myself something that I never even considered a year ago.

I remind myself that he has us. And back then, I would’ve pitied him for landing a shit like me. But I’m not a shit. I’m not worthless or pathetic. If my son ever trips, I have no doubt that I can carry him as far as he needs to go. I love my child unconditionally, the way that I love my wife, and I will praise him. I will cherish him. And I will adore him.

I’ll give him everything that we were starved of.

“If he’s Gryffindor,” Lily muses, “does that mean he’s cooler than us?”

“No way,” I tell her. “Ryke is in that house and we’re a million times cooler than him. He started off tweeting one-word tweets for a full week.” I couldn’t believe the amount of people that retweeted his tweet that said: Wednesday. That’s it. Wednesday.

“That was lame,” she ponders, wrapping her arms around the bowl. Why the hell is she hugging the punch? “But he climbs rocks with his bare hands.”

“Yeah? And I can make you come a dozen times in one night. Who is more impressive?”

Her cheeks redden and her lips part, all breathy. “You.” And then she concentrates on the punch, and I realize she’s trying to lift the giant bowl in her thin arms.

“Lily Hale.” I give her a look.

“It’s a temperamental bowl.”

“Use one of your spells to move it, little puffy,” I tease.

She crinkles her nose again. “I can’t.”

“Lost your wand?”

Her eyes flit to my lips. And a smile pulls my face. She’s turned on by wizard jokes. God, I f*cking love her. I step near to help her, but she raises her hand.

“Stay back.”

“That’s not a spell.”

“You’re too attractive right now.” She crosses her ankles and then glances at the oven clock.

I already hear people arriving in the backyard, so it’s not like we can have a quickie in the closet. And it’s not like she’s ever yearning for a two second f*ck anyway.

“Mess up your hair,” she orders.

I rake my fingers through my longer strands of hair on the top.

Her eyes comically pop out of her head. “Dontdothat,” she slurs, her breathing heavy in need.

“How about,” I say, prying the punch bowl from her, “we go outside with Moffy.”

She nods repeatedly like I just read the Declaration of Independence.

“You first,” I tell her. She picks up our three-and-a-half-month-old son, perching him on her side, and leads the way.

The sliding glass door is open, people walking in and out. The backyard is full of kids in Halloween outfits, parents, and festive decorations. Apples even float in the pool, the water orange from the colored light. The neighborhood party is an olive branch. A start to a safe and normal life here.

I place the punch bowl on the long table of assorted Halloween treats, and I take a cookie for Lily and a couple Fizz Lifes. She sits on a hay bale with Moffy, a perfect people-watching seat.