"What are you whistling about?" Eric's daughter asked him as she entered the kitchen.

He flipped the eggs in the frying pan. "Nothing. Just happy." Not only had he had a pleasant night, but he had been woken up by a kiss on his ear, followed by a trail of kisses to his collar bone, which culminated in an unpredicted session of morning lovemaking. Apparently Tami had been turned on by his admission that she was his first and only. Perhaps he should have told her that twenty years sooner. Nah. He supposed it was good to save your capital, because, once you spent it…it eventually ran out. He hoped this would keep him well supplied for a few more weeks, and then he'd have to come up with some other seduction technique than an unexpected history of abstinence.

Julie slid onto a stool on the other side of the bar that separated the kitchen from the breakfast nook.

"You don't eat eggs, do you?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I do now. Eggs and fish. Just not any other meat."

"That's completely irrational." He slid some eggs from the pan onto two plates. "I suppose fish aren't cute enough to live." He switched off the burner, filled then pan with water from the sink, and then put it back, sizzling, on the stove. "But cows are just as ugly, and oh so much more tasty." He grabbed a couple of forks, brought the plates over, and sat next to her.

"What about Mom?" she asked.

"She went back to sleep for a bit. She'll probably just hit the fellowship table hard at church later. They've got these little cherry tarts she loves."

They ate in silence for a while, and then Julie surprised him. "Thanks for being such a great dad," she said.

He looked at her with a hesitant smile, not sure where this had come from, not sure if it was a good thing. It wasn't common for Julie to compliment her parents, and when she did, Tami always assumed there was something seriously wrong…so maybe he should suspect something here. "Did I do something right recently?" he asked.

"No. I mean, in general. Mom and I were talking last night and it got me thinking about all the years…" She nodded. "You've been a really good dad. I've been really lucky to have you and Mom. You know, most of my friends…they don't have two parents who love each other and are committed to always working it out with each other and who have always been there for them. Even if they have dads in their lives, their dads mostly just avoid talking to them about anything that matters. I mean, you're certainly not gregarious or anything…but…" - she shrugged - "I can talk to you when I really need to."

Now Eric smiled broadly instead of hesitantly.

"Thanks for your advice Friday night."

Eric nodded his welcome. "Everything go okay with your talk with Matt last night?" he asked.

She pushed her eggs around her plate with her fork before spearing a piece. "Yeah. Like you said…it's not all worked out, but we're definitely at the point where we know it's going to be okay, that eventually it's going to be okay."

"Daaaady!" came a cry from the general direction of Gracie's room. "Daady! Daady!" Gracie skipped into the kitchen in her PJs. Eric stood to catch her cheerful morning hug.

He lifted her up and kissed her cheek, spun her around, and put her back down. "All my girls are lovin' on me this morning," he said. He patted Gracie's head just before she rushed over to try to scale the stool next to Julie. Eric sighed, a long, contented sigh. "Let's just freeze this morning right here," he said. "Just freeze it."

[***]

"It's not a shit-eating grin," Matt insisted.

"If you looked up shit-eating grin in the dictionary," Julie countered, "there would be a picture of your face." She patted his bare chest. The sheet formed a diagonal across their glistening, naked bodies in the double bed. "It's totally not an insult. I love your shit-eating grin. I love that I inspire it."

He turned on his side and nuzzled her. "You could inspire it again."

"You haven't wiped it off your face yet." She settled into a cuddle position. "I'm so glad I have you. "

"You are pretty lucky," he said.

She smacked him playfully.

"Okay, I mean we both got pretty lucky." He slid a hand down to her hip. "But especially you." She shoved him, they tussled, and then they made love again.

Epilogue

Carlos caught the ball Coach Taylor had just thrown him and prepared to aim it back at Matt. "Let Henry have the ball," Eric ordered. "Let the little guy have a turn." Carlos glanced at Matt, who, standing on the other side of Coach Taylor, nodded in agreement.

Carlos threw the ball to his half-brother. Henry slapped his hands together, but there was nothing between them. The football wobbled on the grass outside the Taylor home. Grace, who was sitting on the front steps watching them, laughed. She put her hands above her chest and extended them outward one at a time. "Goooo, Henry!" When she started junior high next year, Matt thought, she was going to try out for cheerleading, if Julie didn't talk her out of it.

Matt had gotten the paternity test, and it had indicated that Carlos could possibly be his son. That, combined with Carlotta's word and Henry's blue eyes, suggested he was. Carlotta had already named Matt as the father on the birth certificate anyway.

Time had passed. Eric and Tami had renewed their wedding vows, Matt and Julie had seen their first few anniversaries, and Carlotta had decided to tell Carlos Matt was his father after all; she had not kept the secret from the boy. Matt e-mailed and called his oldest son regularly, and two months every summer, Carlos lived with Matt and Julie before returning to Guatemala. This June, they were visiting the Taylors for a week.

Julie now opened the front door. "Grilled cheese and tomato soup!" she shouted.

The kids ran in the house and Eric limped toward the stairs. "Need some aspirin, old man?" Matt asked him as he overtook him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

Mrs. Taylor's subdued chuckle came from behind Julie. "You're not in your 40's anymore, Eric," she told her husband as she walked out onto the porch. "You can't play that hard."

"Stop rubbing it in," Coach Taylor grumbled. "Don't forget you hit the big 5-0 soon yourself."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm turning 39, hon."

Coach Taylor came up the stairs and drew his wife close. "Well you could convince me. Damn but I married a looker."

"Ewww!" Julie complained as her father kissed her mother, and she turned quickly and disappeared into the house.

Matt himself eased around the flirting couple, closed the front door, and left them alone on the porch. He was uncomfortable at the Taylors' public display of affection, but, unlike Julie, he didn't feel inclined to call it gross. Instead, he thought of the long, satisfying life that lay ahead of him and Julie, and considered that 50, which had once seemed so very ancient to him, might not be so bad after all.

THE END