I ask Dean as we get ready for today’s visitors. He’s standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, a towel hanging low on his waist. I have to remind myself to breathe when we get ready together. I could watch his naked body move swiftly through the room all day long and never get tired of staring. “Not at all,” he says, cleaning up the lines of his thin beard with a razor. “If you survived my parents, I’m pretty sure I can handle yours.” “Keep telling yourself that. My parents are just as … quirky.” “That’s one way to describe my mom and dad.” He finishes shaving and comes over to stand behind me. “I love these goofy braids.” “Goofy?” I frown. “Yes. Goofy. And cute. I love your playful side and these scream play with me.” He tugs on each of my loosely tied braids and kisses the top of my head. “And if we had more time, I’d do just that.”
