You’re pouring juice into plastic cups, halfway through your second board game of the afternoon, when his daughter looks up at you and tilts her head.

“Are you my dad’s boyfriend?”

The question is sharp, matter-of-fact, like only kids can be. Your hand pauses mid-pour. You glance over at John, who’s frozen in place, eyes wide.

You manage a weak laugh. “That’s… um. That’s a big question.”

He clears his throat. “She asks everything like that. Don’t take it—”

But she’s already smiling again, and adds, “I wouldn’t mind if you were.”

Your face goes hot, and John rubs a hand down his beard, clearly flustered. But after the initial embarrassment fades, there’s a silence between you two that holds something more. A question neither of you dares ask out loud, but both of you are thinking.

Later, as you help pack up the game, he leans in a little closer than usual, his voice low and warm. “Just for the record… I wouldn’t mind either.”