She ran her hand through it, kissed his neck. He was vaguely ashamed at being easily turned on. But maybe, if looked at from a certain angle, he was the one who had the power. Because he was the one being acted upon, which made him the necessary medium for power, something like that. He was overthinking it. He didn’t have to make a decision about how he felt about any of this right now. That was something he’d only just figured out. It helped with sex, keeping an open mind. It was better to be led. Acted upon.

“Time for bed,” Kate said after a few more minutes. She took his hand and he followed her up the stairs, past the framed family pictures he didn’t particularly care to see. The kids belonged to her, he thought, like he belonged to his father, if he still did. At a certain age the roles reversed. But, lord willing, that wouldn’t be for a while.

She kissed him again at the bedroom door.

“You good?” she said.

“Like you care,” he said.

He tried to look serious as they sat down on the bed.

In the morning, Kate woke him from a dream of an apocalyptic road trip.

“Time to go, boychik,” she said. “Kids are due and you’ve got to show your dada Big Sky Country.”

“Noooooo,” he said.

“Don’t make me get the spray bottle,” she said. “C’mon.”

Alex collected his clothes from the floor and put them back on slowly. His father had told him that, despite the presence of five local coffee shops in town, he strongly preferred to begin his day at Starbucks. There was one out on the highway in the vicinity of his father’s hotel—he would take him there on their way out to the valley where he liked to hike, a stretch that was picturesque but not too steep, undamaged but not too remote. Plus there was a brewery nearby.

He trundled downstairs feeling unwashed and sleepy.

“Kate, I need coffee,” he said in a parody of a whiny child.

Her two boys were standing in the living room, a duffel bag and backpack over their shoulders, respectively, staring at him with their dead eyes.

“Uh, Mom?” the older one called toward the kitchen.

“No worries,” Alex said. “I’m just on my way out.”

The kids remained in place, impassive. At the front door, Alex turned back and saw Kate coming out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel, a rigid smile on her face.

“Guys, this is Alexander,” she said. “He’s just…”

“Your boyfriend?” the little one said.

Alex caught her eye, took his hand off the doorknob.

“Oh no, honey,” she said, playacting, he hoped, disgust. “He’s my friend’s son.”