Unspoken Boundaries

 The soft dimness of the room wrapped around us, a cocoon of intimacy that felt sacred. Doc’s touch was slow and tender, like he was reading my body as if it were a book, each kiss, each caress speaking volumes we hadn’t said out loud. I felt completely surrendered in his presence—safe, cherished, and free from the weight of everything outside of this moment.

I moved closer, pressing myself into him, the warmth of his body grounding me in a way I hadn’t felt in so long. We were lost in each other, tangled in quiet moments that spoke louder than any words could.

But just as his lips trailed a path down my neck, the softest sound broke through the space between us.

“Momma? Dada?”

It was Anthony’s small voice, tentative but curious. My heart skipped a beat, and panic rushed through me in an instant. I quickly pulled away from Doc, sitting up straight, my chest tight with sudden alarm.

Doc froze, a silent understanding passing between us. He didn’t move, but I could feel the shift in him—he was trying to gauge my reaction, waiting for me to take the lead.

"Anthony," I called out softly, my voice a little too strained. "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

There was a brief pause, the sound of tiny footsteps shuffling closer. I quickly scrambled to pull the blanket up around myself, a flush of embarrassment spreading across my face.

And then, there he was, standing in the doorway with his wide, innocent eyes. Anthony’s little face was filled with confusion, a slight frown pulling at his tiny lips.

“Momma,” he said again, his small voice filled with uncertainty, “you and Dada… were… hugging?”

It felt like the air in the room had thickened, every word hanging heavily between us. I glanced at Doc, who was sitting there, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—an understanding, a softness that assured me it was going to be okay.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Yes, sweetheart,” I said gently, my voice cracking slightly. “We were… just hugging.”

Anthony’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, before it shifted to Doc. “Dada’s hugging you?”

Doc’s smile was warm but tinged with a sadness I couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, buddy,” he said quietly, his voice soft. “Sometimes, grown-ups need to be close to each other, just like you need your momma.”

It wasn’t the answer I had hoped to give him, but it was enough—enough for now. Anthony wasn’t old enough to understand everything, and part of me felt guilty for exposing him to any of this too soon. But the moment was inevitable, and the truth was, Anthony had never seen us like this before.

I slid out of bed, wrapping a robe around myself. “It’s okay, baby,” I said, walking toward him. “Let’s go get you something to drink. You’re up a little early, huh?”

He nodded and took my hand, his small fingers gripping mine like a lifeline. As we moved toward the kitchen, I stole a glance at Doc. He hadn’t moved, but his eyes met mine with a quiet understanding, a reassurance that we’d handle this—just like we’d handled everything else.

As we stepped into the kitchen, I crouched down to Anthony’s level, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “Everything’s okay,” I whispered. “You don’t need to worry about things that happen between grown-ups, alright?”

He nodded solemnly, but I could see that my words didn’t completely ease his confusion. He was too young to grasp the complexities of love, intimacy, or even what had just happened between Doc and me. But that was alright for now. He didn’t need to know everything, and I didn’t need to explain myself—at least not yet.

I made him a cup of milk, trying to regain some sense of normalcy, even as my heart still pounded in my chest. I didn’t want this moment to define the complexity of our relationship. But as I handed Anthony his milk and he scampered off to play, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease.

Doc walked into the kitchen a few moments later, and for a long time, neither of us spoke. We simply stood there, looking at each other, unsure of what to say, or how to handle this new layer of complexity that had been added to our already tangled lives.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “I didn’t want him to see that… Not like this.”

“I know,” I whispered, my fingers nervously playing with the hem of my robe. “It’s just… this is new for him. We have to figure out how to make this work, for him. For us.”

He nodded, his face softening with a quiet sadness. “I don’t want to make things harder for him, Andrea. I want to be part of his life, but I know that it’s going to take time. I don’t want to push him. I don’t want him to feel confused.”

My heart ached at his words. He was right, of course. Anthony was young, and everything was so new—new for both of us. But this was part of the process. Part of how relationships evolve, how families form and reshape themselves.

“We’ll take it slow,” I said softly. “One step at a time. He’s not ready for all of this yet, but he will be, in time.”

Doc took a deep breath, his gaze steady on me. “I’m here, Andrea. For you. For him. For whatever comes next.”

I reached out, placing my hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. “I know,” I whispered. “And I’m here for you, too.”

It wasn’t perfect, not by any means. But as I stood there with Doc, as I held my son in my arms later that night, I realized that even in the midst of the chaos and confusion, we were finding our way. Together.