On the one hand, it’s just a kiss. I’ve kissed lots of people before. I’ve kissed Darren nearly every day for the last fifteen years. But on the other hand, this first kiss with Jourdan is different. Her mouth is much more demanding than Darren is normally. Her tongue snakes around mine slowly and seductively. We only have six minutes — no, less, actually — until my car arrives, but Jourdan isn’t in a hurry. Anyone could see us, but Jourdan doesn’t care. There’s no artifice in the way she kisses me, no nerves like the first time Darren and I kissed, with my braces and late teenage hormones, and there’s no familiarity. But that’s not why this kiss is different.

I feel it in my bones as our tongues tangle and our lips press together, but I can’t name it.

It’s not until I’m in my car, just a few minutes from home, and I get a text from her letting me know that she’s arrived safely that I realize what’s new.

Kissing Jourdan was lovely, and I could have kissed her all night. I wished I had. But I also wanted more.

I wanted Darren there with us.

routines

I feel light when I walk into the house, and then I trip over Danny’s basketball equipment just inside the front door. Normally, this would tank my mood. How many times have I told them to keep the foyer organized? But I don’t want to let the giddiness from my date with Jourdan slip away. I want it to stay with me as long as possible, so I kneel on the small patch of tile in the foyer and organize the boys’ shoes on the rack before I kick off my own.

I stop by the kitchen for a very tall glass of water, and then I tiptoe upstairs.

On the way up, I debate whether or not I want to check in on the boys, but as soon as I see their bedroom door covered in posters of Lebron James, the debate is over. I open the door and thank God that they’re still just a little afraid of the dark, so I can see them from the door by the glow of their nightlight. As usual, Nate is tucked neatly under his covers, while Danny is sprawled, legs and arms akimbo across his bed, the blanket tangled around his waist. They’re perfect.

I close their door quietly — even though nothing but the sound of one of their video games could wake them up — and then make my way to the bedroom. Inside, I exhale quietly, pressing my back against the closed door. I down half the glass of water in my hand. I can hear Darren’s deep, gentle snores, and suddenly all I want is to be in bed beside him.