Foster and I had made a fresh start in a different state, putting plenty of distance between us and Mom. I thought he was far too accommodating during the divorce, but I also understood his reasons for not wanting a drawn-out process that would keep us tied to my mother any longer than we had to be. Now that we’d moved halfway across the country and started over, Foster loved his new job, especially since it was less stressful and allowed him to work fewer hours. And I’d resumed my studies and had plans to transfer to a four-year university.
I also legally changed my last name as a way of making a clean break from both my mother and biological father, and to make it a little more difficult for Mom to track me down. Not that my mother seemed to be interested in doing that; I doubted she thought of me much at all. Some quick snooping online revealed that she was already engaged to be married to some guy who didn’t look older than twenty-five. I really did hope the two of them were made for each other.
Foster helped me choose my new last name, even as he said he wanted to give me his own one day. “If you want it,” he’d added with an affectionate smile.
The thought of marrying him in the future filled me with an indescribable joy. “Of course I do!” I told him. “I can’t wait to be yours in every way.”
Foster and I were still being careful, not revealing our relationship to even our most trusted friends from our old life. As far as any of them knew, I was living with my former stepfather in a strictly platonic sense. In time, we would grow more comfortable revealing the truth to them. But here, in this new place where no one knew of our past, we felt far more free to openly show our love for each other.
Now as Foster joined me on the balcony, he handed me a glass of bourbon, and I managed to take a sip without grimacing. “See?” I said. “I told you it would grow on me.” A grin played at his lips while we both recalled that first night we’d shared a drink, and then something far more intimate.
As the sun set and the remaining light gave the evening a warm glow, I moved closer to Foster. “We should make a toast,” I suggested, lifting my glass. “To your promotion.”
His gaze was full of tenderness as he smiled at me. “And to new beginnings,” he said.