Patrick was up and at the table for dinner before he grew tired and shuffled cautiously off to bed. Ethan proved he fit in with my entire family, playing with the boys, helping my mom with dishes, and falling into easy conversation with my dad. Steph and my sister whispered to each other conspiratorially and giggled throughout much of the evening, their eyes shifting between Ethan and me. I was still riding high from car sex, so I just laughed. The following days continued in the same vein. We didn’t do much of anything except eat and drink and hang out. I could tell Ethan was getting antsy to be back at work by the time our flight rolled around. My mom dropped us off at the airport along with Steph and hugged us with a teary good-bye. We all made promises to see her soon, and she gave Ethan an extra hug, whispering something in his ear. He smiled and nodded, patting her on the shoulder. I watched them, my mom so polished in her flowered blouse, tailored jeans, and high heels; Ethan in all his tattooed glory with low-slung jeans, Chucks, and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
