Coda Books 06 - Fear, Hope, and Bread Pudding (MM)

Chapter One

    S OMEBODY once said, “there is no hope unmingled with fear, and no fear unmingled with hope.” I never realized how true it was until I watched Cole struggle with them both in our quiet Phoenix home, where hope and fear had been neatly encapsulated in the simple form of a bedroom.
    It all began on Thanksgiving, only two short months after I’d made my mad flight across the country to surprise him at his home in the Hamptons. It was our first holiday with the two of us plus my father together as a real family. We celebrated by decorating an enormous Christmas tree in our family room. Cole had already bought too many presents, each perfectly wrapped and ribboned at the store. I hated to think how many more would be under the tree by the time Christmas actually arrived. Cole spent most of the day preparing dinner, and then we sat at his too-big dining room table to eat, and through it all, he was a million miles away, his brain wrapped up in something he wasn’t yet ready to share.
    It wasn’t until that night, when we were alone in bed with the lights turned out, that he took a deep breath and said, “Have you ever thought about becoming a father?”
    The question surprised me so much that I sat straight up in bed and turned to face him, although his expression was hidden in the dark.
    “Have you?” I asked.
    There was a moment of silence, a soft inhale of breath, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. Almost reverent. “All the time.”
    No, it hadn’t occurred to me, and yet suddenly I had no idea why not. It was so beautifully simple and so right.
    A child.
    Somebody to wake up for in the morning and tuck into bed at night. Somebody to stack presents around the tree for. Somebody to hold and read to and rock to sleep. A child for Cole to dote on, for me to love, for my father to toss in the air and bounce on his knee. A new, bright, wonderful life to tug on my father’s pant leg while looking up at him hopefully, just as I’d done to my father’s father. He’d always had candy in his pockets for me, despite my mother’s admonitions that he’d ruin my dinner. Now, it could be my child, holding a hand out to Grandpa George. It could be Cole scolding them for eating too much sugar and me turning away, laughing, pretending I didn’t see, because I would never stand in the way of my father spoiling his only grandchild. Families should grow, Jon, not shrink , my father had once said to me. He was right, and now I could make it happen.
    I reached across Cole to turn on the bedside lamp, and he seemed to grow smaller in the light. He wanted to hide these things away, but I leaned over him. I forced him to meet my eyes. I saw how afraid he was now that he’d said the words out loud.
    “Is that what you want?”
    He pulled the covers up to his chin, seeming very much like a child himself, wanting to use the blankets as some kind of shield. “More than anything.”
    I laughed, because it was all I could do. I pulled the blankets away from him, taking away his protection, stripping him bare so I could wrap him in my arms. “Only if you marry me first.”

    I N THE month leading up to the wedding, we talked endlessly of becoming parents. We weighed the pros and cons of adoption versus surrogacy, and by the time we flew off to Paris for a commitment ceremony in front of our friends, we knew what we wanted. We didn’t honeymoon, but came straight back to Phoenix.
    Technically, unmarried same-sex couples couldn’t apply for joint adoption in Arizona, but a single parent could. Married couples were given priority, but we found an attorney named Thomas Goodman who specialized in adoption, and he assured us it wasn’t an impossibility.
    “It’s disheartening, I know, but this isn’t without precedent. I’ve helped other same-sex couples in your exact position. The first thing we do is decide which one of you is technically applying to adopt.”
    “But we have every intention of raising this child together,” Cole said.
    “I know, and as soon as the adoption is final, we can draft documents to close any legal loopholes, making sure you both have parental rights, especially with regard to health-care decisions. We’ll also ensure that in the event of something happening to the adoptive parent, the other of you would receive custody.”
    “But a joint adoption is truly not allowed?”
    “Not in Arizona.”
    “What about foreign adoption?” I asked. “Would that make it