Physically anyway. “Ew! That’s so nasty,” he said, wrinkling his nose at us. Tristan smiled. “Kissing your mom? I have to disagree.” He pulled me back into his arms. “Gross, Dad!” Dorian covered his eyes and made gagging sounds. “Don’t ever do that in front of me again.” Tristan and I shared a grin and reluctantly let go of each other. “So, Aikido today?” Tristan asked, focusing on our son. “Sure,” Dorian said as he took out a bowl and a box of cereal. “Are you coming, too, Mom?” I thought about what needed to be done at the safe house. With no new guests yet, there really wasn’t much. I wanted to paint the reading alcove in our own home, but Blossom was busy today, and I definitely needed her (magical) help after our last painting disaster. And I could use a good workout—I’d been pretty lazy since the fight in Miami. “I’m in,” I said. “Do we get to spar, Dad? Can I spar you?” The enthusiasm in Dorian’s voice held an edge to it, as if he wanted a little revenge on Tristan for kissing his mom.
