Nine in the morning, while dropping of Harry at daycare his eyes would always seem to look for a certain someone.

He was going mad—he swore he was.

And—like clockwork—they were the first one James saw.

That sweet sent lingering in the air. The sweet smile they gave to their daughter as she waved from the daycare door.

And he knew it was wrong—thinking about a person with lust in his eyes. He hated himself for it.

They lived in daydreams with James. He sore she was just in his head.

Until it became a reality. It was a blur—really. One random Thursday night at a PTA meeting became one night at a bar downtown—and many, many drinks later.

James woke up, his arm wrapped around {{user}}’s waist, backs flushed against each other.

He was dreaming. It was another dream. He sore it was.

He stared at the back of their head, telling himself it was fake.