Justin just nods. “And they just sent me over the game, and I have to check it out and play it.”

“So your assignment is to play a video game?” I ask, my foot moving back and forth as he glares at me.

“There is a lot more than just playing a video game, sweetheart,” he says, and I shake my head and take a piece of salad, hoping the conversation ends.

“Mom, there is so much more to playing the game.” Dylan copies Justin’s words. “That is so cool.”

“This steak is so tender,” I say, changing the subject and hoping that Dylan forgets.

“It’s the best,” he says, chewing on his last piece. “So can I stay with Justin?”

“Dylan, I don’t think …” I start to say and look for Justin to help me out, but he just leans back in his chair and puts his hands on the arms of the chair, making his shirt go tight across his chest.

“Why?” he asks, and I sit in the chair and look at him. “Why don’t you guys sleep here?”

“Um, no,” I say the same time that Dylan says, “Yes!”

“Hear me out,” he says, and I want to hurt him, but then I want to kiss him again.

“You guys sleep here tonight,” he says, and I shake my head. “Then tomorrow, I can stay with Dylan, and you can go to work, and then we can have movie night.”

“That,” Dylan says. “Let’s do that, Mom. Please,” he begs, then he turns to Justin. “Can I have more steak?”

“Sure, buddy,” he says, taking a steak and cutting it on his plate.

“We can’t just stay here,” I tell them.

“Why not?” Dylan asks, eating a piece of steak.

“Yeah, why not?” I glare at Justin’s question.

“Well, for one, we don’t have any clothes.” I start with the obvious.

“I can lend you something to sleep in,” Justin says.

“Well, I need clothes for work tomorrow,” I say.

“I can lend you something, and you can swing by your place before work,” Justin says, and I want to tell him no.

“The bus ride alone is going to be …” I start saying, and he shuts it down.

“You aren’t taking the bus. You can take the SUV,” he says, and I want to hit the table and tell him to stop it.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say softly.

“Why?” he asks. “I have two extra bedrooms. You can each take a room.”

“Justin,” I say, and he looks at me, trying not to smile.

“Besides, I want Dylan to help me with my game,” he says softly, and I look at the man who has taken my son under his wing and has included him in every single direction we are going. It’s overwhelming, and I put my napkin down and get up.