Richard taught him to ride a bicycle, helped with algebra, and took him to Michael’s auto repair shop.
One evening, I smiled at Richard. “We’re becoming a real family, aren’t we?”
“Nolan’s doing well,” he replied.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. Anyway, Michael says he’s good with engines.”
The apologies stopped.
I assumed Richard simply struggled to express his feelings.
Meanwhile, Nolan and I grew closer. When he first called me Mom, I cried in the laundry room.
***
Three years later, when Nolan was fifteen, I brought up adoption.
“What if we made it official?” I asked Richard.
“You mean adopting him?”
We’re becoming a real family.
“Yes. He’s already our son.”
“Why rush? He’s happy here.”
“But adopting him would make us his legal parents, not just his foster parents.” GetWriting Tools
“We’re already a family, Emma.”
