“So,” he whispered, getting close to his husband, “what’s up?”Aron circled his waist with one hand.“Are you sure you want a honest reply to that? Because I know exactly what’s up right now, seeing that we’re all alone, in a confined place, and I only have to lean in like this, and kiss you.”Carter was pretty certain that they were going to smooch each other so loudly that their trackers were going to find them any moment now.“So, should we schedule a date for tonight? After 10 am, when everyone’s finally asleep, just you and me, the dads’ bedroom, and a bottle of wine?” Aron nuzzled his neck.“I’d rather have a beer,” Carter protested. “Haven’t had one in a while. Why am I always the designated driver?” he faked complaint.“Because the kids prefer your driving style for some reason.”“Well, I do take them everywhere they want,” Carter pointed out.“Yeah. You’re soft,” Aron chuckled.“Someone’s got to be. Hey, it’s like I’m the good cop, and you’re the bad cop!” Carter exclaimed.His husband. I told her that I was prospecting for milk. I had found a good site and would keep looking, even if it took months. Sheila blushes so prettily. It was a full day, so we could not linger in the shower, tempting though that was. We had our usual quick breakfast, then Sheila took off for an early appointment. I sent Helen a message saying that I would be late, because I was checking on wedding preparations. That gave me an excuse to go down to the boathouse and look around again. The progress was substantial. First, the yard below the house had been sectioned off like a county fair midway. Blocks were laid out for various food providers and entertainment stalls, even one for clown makeup. The boathouse itself had been pressure-washed and a crew was laying drop cloths for the painters. Inside, I was pleased to see a crew working on the houseboat. Sheila had told me it was silly calling it a houseboat, because there were no rooms. She could call it a party barge if she wished. I hoped I.
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