"Daddy, how do I be a man like you?" Teddy asks me as I shake pink glitter onto a construction paper heart on my office desk at GEH. I've brought him here so no one sees what we're up to. Ana thinks we're just man-bonding after Teddy's poor mood yesterday, but keeping this a secret from Taylor is like trying to keep the water you just drank a secret from your bladder. Teddy doesn't want anyone to know about his Valentine's crush, so I've sent Taylor out for more drop-offs and pick-ups today than UPS on December the 24th.

"Well," I say, as I mush my fingers into the glue, like Phoebe said, and spread the sparkle around. "I think being a real man is more about your attitude and confidence. The way you present yourself." I lift up my fingers, all covered with sticky glitter. I look like I just performed open heart surgery on Hello Kitty.

"Do you gots to wear itchy clothes to be a man?"

"Sometimes..." The best part of being a man is taking the itchy clothes off, but we'll save that conversation for another decade. Oh, I can't wait to get home tonight for Ana to scratch that wonderful itch.

"I want to be a man like you," he says, putting his own fingers into the glue and squishing.

"You make me so proud, son."

We both smile and squish around for a moment, until satisfied with color and placement. Two men covered in sparkles for love. If Elena could see me now I think she'd have a stroke, die, and come back again to have another stroke, just because the first stroke wasn't enough.

"So you still don't want to tell me who she is?" I ask as we glue on dried macaroni in a decorative pattern. Decorative pattern being wherever there's space for a tube and the glue will hold it and won't scratch the recipient.

He shakes his head. Why is he so secretive about this? I'm trying to go through all the girls in his class in my head, but I can't put my finger on it. I wonder if it's that redhead Caroline or Carolyn? Maybe it's Carol Lynn. Whatever the case, he told me last week he won a playground contest of guessing the freckle count on her face. I'm not sure how they verified the outcome, but someone gave him gum for it.

"What's she look like?" Why is my macaroni sticking to my monkey sticker? Oh well, it kind of looks like he's holding a banana, either that or he's laying pipe. Although from another angle it looks lewd. I better move it. I don't want any monkeys stroking their bananas on this card.

"She's really pretty." The way he says pretty, I know he's got it bad.

"What makes her so pretty?" Although, I know that's a tough one. If someone asked me the same thing, all I could say is she's Ana.

"She's got blonde hair and blue eyes and smells like marshmallows."

"A blonde, huh?" He nods. Well, he didn't take after dear old dad in that department. Who's blonde in that class? Maybe it's that Jennifer girl; the one who always plays Fiddler on the Roof on the clarinet at every talent show because her father was an understudy in a regional tour and tries to relive the glory half-year through his daughter.

"And she's more taller than me," he says. That's interesting. He must be a legs man and he doesn't even know it yet. But, I don't think Jennifer is taller than him. Hmm...

"I think my card looks sorta goofy, Daddy," Teddy says as we finish, lifting the finished product up off the desk.

"I think it's a nice valentine," I say, trying to wipe my hands with a towel and handing it over to him to do the same. We've been at this thing for over an hour—cutting and pasting, glittering and glimmering it up, trying to get it just right. And though I followed Phoebe's instructions to the letter, somehow the letter of my instruction was less alphabetic and more question mark.

"It's so pink with all the glitters and lacy things." Teddy scrunches his nose. "It sort of looks like that Pepto-bigs-small stuff Mommy gives my tummy when it's sicky, if it was fancy dressed up for a party."

A Pepto party. Poetically correct.

"Trust me, girls love all that stuff."

"Why do girls like boys to give them their noodles on Valentine's Day, Daddy?"

"Who told you about giving girls the noodle?" I ask, shocked and ill prepared to discuss the full birds and bees or any pasta innuendos.

He points to his card. Oh, the dried macaroni decorations.

"I don't know, but they just do."

He stands from his seat across from me—the one Ana interviewed me in all those years before—and shakes the card a bit and pink glitter rains down, flying all over my office. It's appropriate considering there's been a pink cloud of fairy dust in here ever since Ana first walked in. Though, the next time the Taiwanese walk out of a meeting, their asses will sparkle. Hopefully they won't look back at it.

"She'll love it," I say. "Just sign your name with a little message at the bottom."

"Like what?"

Oh shit. What to say... Not love, that's too much. Not sincerely, too formal and no one will believe he knew how to spell it. Your friend?—no, no one gives their friend all this. But then again, he doesn't want to play all his cards with this one.

"I know—just say Your valentine, your name, plus a smiley face."

He scrunches his nose. "Could you write it for me Daddy?"

I lean over and grab a marker. Whoever this girl's father is is going to match my writing up somehow and kill me. I've not only helped with the card, I signed the thing. If some guy did this for Phoebe I'd do the same.

I start to sign as Andrea buzzes and I pick up the line. "Make the happy face and sign your name," I say to him. "But, not too big and happy, it'll overpower the card." Although, I think it would take an atom bomb to dim that shine.

"Excuse me, sir?" Andrea asks.

"Nothing. What is it?"

"Mr. Bouvier is here for you, Mr. Grey," she says. "And it looks like he's brought a forest."

"The florist brought a florist?"

"No, he brought a forest!"

"A forest?" What the hell? He's so fucking weird. "Fine. Send him in."

Armando Bouvier, florist extraordinaire and pain in my azaleas. If he didn't know so much about flora, I'd throw him out for the fauna to give him the call of the wild.

"Mr. Christian!" he says, prancing in carrying his bucket of ideas. Not really a forest, just a few flowers. Andrea exaggerates so.

He moves toward me and I know what he wants—the double cheek kiss. I immediately step back.

"Oh, Mr. Christian, we're going to have so much fun today!"

Why does he always call me that? I told him when I first met him and he helped me pick out those white roses for Ana that we weren't friends. Seven years doesn't change that. In fact, it solidifies it.

"Mr. Bouvier," I say, emphasizing his last name and give him a nod. I notice he's wearing a jacket made entirely of white feathers. He looks like a duck. A trendy duck, but still a duck.

I spoke too soon about the forest...

Behind him some mute assistant rolls in a humongous cart of plants and topiaries and some tropical things that look like he picked them up at a swap meet in the rain forest. I half expect to see a tree frog jump out from the leaves and ribbit in revolt for ripping out his real estate. I look to the far end of the cart. Why the hell did he bring little apple trees with all this jungle shit?

"What is all this?" I ask.

"I wanted to show you a Garden of Eden setup I was thinking about for you and your wife on your special holiday of love—" he raises a brow.

"Yes," I hold up a hand to shut him up quickly. "We'll talk about all those plans later." I don't want to get into petals covering our heart shaped bed, orchids floating in a jacuzzi tub and a blood red rose covered St. Andrew's cross in front of my son. And I definitely don't want to talk about my snake tempting Ana to sin with her apples. "We have another order of business now. This is my son Theodore, and he needs help with a valentine for a little friend of his."

"Oh?" He says it so high pitched and excited, he sounds like my mother did when I told her Ana was my girlfriend. "What can I do for you Mr. Theodore?"

"Umm,..." he looks down, all shy at his shoes. He's so nervous talking about this. I feel for him. "I gotta get her flowers too, Daddy?" He looks up.

"I told you, hearts and flowers—always."

"Oh yeah. I forgot." He thinks, a finger up his nose. Digging for boogers while digging for answers. "What should I get?" He wipes the gold rush on his pants and I hand him a towel.

"I think he wants something sweet, friendly, not too committal," I say, ruffling his hair to tell him it's okay to be nervous and that I'm here for him. Hell, if I was a basket case at nearly twenty-eight, he gets a pass at six. And oddly, I recall that Mr. Bouvier has seen both father and son pick out their first flowers of love in this very office. I'd mention the momentous occasion, but I don't want to give Bouvier any excuse to celebrate. When he gets happy, I get hugged.

"How about the mixed wildflowers?" Bouvier asks, pulling out some weed looking items from his bucket.

"No, he'll look like a hippy," I say.

"What's a hippy, Daddy?"

"Somebody who likes to give out everything for free."

"Dr. Rear-end gives me free no taste suckers when I got no cavities."

"Trust me, nothing at Dr. Reardon's is free." I wouldn't be surprised to see those sugar-free lollies for ten bucks a pop on the itemized bill.

"Tulips?" Bouvier asks.

"It's Valentine's Day, not Easter!"

"Mums..."

"...the word. No."

"How about a contained bush of some sort. Very organic and very now for ladies concerned about the environment."

Contained bush? Isn't that true if I whack off a chunk of my front hedge and put it in a pot?

"My son is not giving a bush out. He wants little sweet flowers."

He closes his eyes, almost meditative. There's a long awkward pause...

"Is he asleep standing up, Daddy?" Teddy whispers.

"I think he's thinking," I say, although I'm not sure he does that.

"Miniature meadow's lark blush tea roses tied with a white ribbon!" he says, suddenly popping his eyes open as if divine providence just made the call.

Tea roses... They're small, sweet, not too romantic, but more than a friend would give you...

"That sounds nice. What do you say, Champ?"

"How about the apple tree?" he asks.

"No, son."

"But, he said you're giving Mommy one."

"Because apple trees are for mommies and daddies."

"Can I give her an apple, then?"

"No, no fruit. Nobody wants fruit on Valentine's Day."

"How about ice cream?"

"Ice cream will melt. We can add some chocolates."

"Does chocolates make the ice cream melt less?"

"No, not chocolate in the ice cream. Chocolates on their own."

"Like those talkie hearts?"

"Those aren't chocolate."

"They could be if I mixed in M&M's and left them on my window in a baggy and the sun got them squishy and they'd mix."

I shake my head.

"No, I'd say more a pink velvet heart box with mixed truffles. Belgian preferably and stored at an appropriate temperature."

"Being a Valentine man is hard thinking, Daddy."

"Tell me about it."

Armando takes down the order on his iPhone. The case on that thing is so bedazzled, it makes our card look like it came from the Amish.

"Oh, and I also need sunflowers delivered to the house on the big day," I say.

He looks up from his phone, distressed, bewildered. Almost like I told him I talked to the family of ducks responsible for his jacket and they're coming to collect their feathers back.

"Wouldn't Mrs. Grey prefer roses?" he asks, acting like I've just offended him on some level with the sunflowers.

"They're not for Mrs. Grey. I have to buy them for a date with some pig."

"Oh, I see," he says, rather shocked, then looks to Teddy like he can't believe I've aired my filthy laundry in front of him.

"Not a pig of a woman, a pig of a pig." He looks at me, confused. "Actually, she's a small pig. Not barnyard-like." Still confused. "He's our hamster's girlfriend and he has a date with her on Valentine's Day and she wants sunflowers." Perpetual state of confusion.

"They're out of season," he says.

"Well, they're in season somewhere. Fly them in!" I can't believe I'm importing flowers for Chester's date. And I still have to get him a "romantical gift" for her. When did I become Chester's Taylor?

Finally, I tell Armando I'll call him about Ana's surprise later and he leaves.

"Are we done with Valentine's, Daddy?"

"Son, the first lesson you need to know as a man is—you're never done with Valentine's until you've been to Cartier."

########

"Mr. Grey," Donald says as we arrive at my home away from home—Cartier. Donald knows me well. He should; I think Donald's paid off two mortgages and a vacation home because of me.

"Donald," I say. "This is my son."

"I'm Teddy," he says.

"Delightful! And what are you doing here today, young man?" He's so happy. I think it's because he sees a future generation of purchases.

"My dad's teaching me to be a man by taking me to buy your jewelry."

"There's no better way to be a man than that! And, your father is quite the man around here!" He's smiling so excitedly, an outsider might think he's after my body, but I know better; he's only after my wallet. He's always treated me well in the past, but when Ana came into the picture I became royalty. Of course, that did change the game for him. It went from some diamond earrings and a tennis bracelet now and again for the submissives to Crown Jewels on every holiday, anniversary, birthday, push present...

"How is Mrs. Grey?" he asks. Speaking of push presents...

"Wonderful..." I really want to get him salivating. "You know we found out she's having twins."

His eyes light up like a slot machine when three cherries drop.

"Oh, congratulations! That's wonderful! Double the fun, double the love, double the everything!"

"Double the gift giving..."

"Splendid!" I half expect him to start cart wheeling in the aisles. He's now secured a yacht in the south of France.

"I need to pick out something today for Mrs. Grey and for my daughter. And a little something nice for my mother and sister."

He nods.

"What about Auntie Kate?" Teddy asks.

Oh crap.

"Uncle Elliot gives her gifts."

Speaking of gifts of the swine persuasion...

"I also need a gift for my daughter's hamster's pig girlfriend."

"Of course!" he says. You know you spend a lot of money in a place when you tell them that and they don't even bat an eye.

"And Teddy here needs to pick out something small, but elegant for a little friend of his."

"I've just the thing," Donald says. Maybe I can introduce him to Armando and his coat. They could be Donald and the Duck: the quackers that meet all your Valentine's Day needs.

"We have an adorable selection of Valentine's inspired pendants," he says, reaching inside a drawer.

He pulls out a case of little jeweled charms—Be Mine, XOXO, Love...

"What's that one say?" Teddy asks, pointing to a pink studded one in the corner.

Donald pulls it out. "So sweet," he says. And it's made entirely of tiny pink diamonds.

"That's a nice one," I say. It's not too over-the-top romantic. Still childlike. Innocent. "How about it, Teddy?"

He nods.

"Wrap it up," I say.

"Sir, it's a steal at $1,550."

"Great." I'm sure the rest of this shopping trip they'll be stealing back from me.

#######

"Thanks for helping me today," Teddy says as he eats a forkful of his pancakes. We've snuck over to the I-Hop. I figured a man's day deserved a man's dinner—pancakes, maple syrup and bacon. Although I notice this man's dinner is his mother's favorite. The first meal she cooked for me, probably the first real meal she cooked for him. We have both been mothered by her. And it warms me to notice that as we eat like men, he eats his pancakes just like his mother.

"Anytime, Sport," I say, eating a bite of my own. The I-Hop always holds good memories for me. And few places from my past do that. Wasn't it just yesterday I took Ana to that one in Georgia? God, things have changed since then. Who'd have thought then I'd be sitting here with our son?

"Even after the babies are born?" Teddy asks, and I'm a bit surprised.

"Of course. Why would that change?"

He shrugs. "You'll be busy with diapers and doody and stuff."

I can feel him kicking at the stand under the table. This is troubling him.

"Well yes, it'll be an adjustment, but that won't change you and me."

He looks down and I know he doesn't believe me. I know, because it's the same look away I gave Ana when she said having him wouldn't change the love she felt for me.

I lean in and take his chin, so his eyes face mine.

"Listen to me. No matter what, you're my son and I love you with all my heart. And nothing changes that." And as I say it, it's almost therapeutic to me. What I feel for him has no conditions. It's the same feeling I have for Phoebe and the babies and my Ana.

Ana was right.

"But, I don't get it. How can you love everybody you used to the same when there's more?"

"Trust me, I've learned a thing or two about more. And more means whatever you have only grows."

I give him a kiss on the head and he smiles, though I can see him peek around to make sure no friends are lurking who can see this public display of affection.

"Nothing changes... You have my word," I say.

"Mine too, Daddy." He nods and eats his bacon.

"Plus, you're going to be the leader of the tribe," I say, ruffling his hair. "You're the oldest; the younger kids will look up to you."

"Phoebe doesn't. She hits me."

"Well, you two are a little closer in age, and Phoebe is Phoebe, but she needs you, too." I lean in. "One day you're going to help me fight off all her boyfriends."

"I already did."

"What?"

"My friend Fritzy said he thought she was funny and not the yuckiest and so I pushed him in the dirt."

"Good job."

"Yeah... But he kinda likes dirt." He takes a forkful of pancake and covers it with syrup and then gobbles it down. "I promise I'll always try to make you proud, Dad."

"You already do, son. You already do."

#######

"Daddy's home!" Phoebe says, running up to me as Teddy and I walk through the door. I pick her up and twirl her around and she giggles. "You were gone so long! I though you got lost."

"No, I will never lose my way home." I give her a kiss on the head. "I promise you that."

"There you two are!" Ana says, coming out from the great room and gives Teddy a hug. "It's late. Teddy, Phoebe— why don't you two run upstairs and have Mrs. Taylor get you ready for bed. Then we'll do story time."

"Yay! Daddy gets to read me Eloise in Pears!" Phoebe skips toward the stairs and Teddy follows.

"It's Paris, not pears!" I say, but she's not listening. She's fighting with her brother for first place in the race up the stairs. I swear, one more read of that book and she'll be wanting a trip to Paris. Might not be such a bad idea...

I look over and Ana looks glorious. She's got her hair pinned up and she's wearing a lavender satin robe, where her bump is pushing against the fabric. Maybe she wants me to bathe her. I'd like nothing more than for her to sit against me naked in our tub as I wash her neck, her breasts, her belly...

I move to my wife, put two hands on her face and pull her in for a kiss.

"Where have you been?" Ana says, murmuring against my lips.

"Have you missed me?" I slide my hands down her face, her neck and then her shoulders, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric against her skin.

But, something's wrong. She stops kissing me. What's this? The last time she gave me dead lips was when she had a pregnancy craving and sent me out for ice cream and I got her chocolate chip instead of vanilla and she accused me of not loving her anymore. Her hormones were raging and she thought I wanted a new woman and this was some subconscious way of me telling her that vanilla wasn't enough for me anymore. It was three in the fucking morning! My eyes were practically closed when I picked it out! We weren't going to have sex with it, she was supposed to eat it! I finally convinced her that the ice cream was really like us—vanilla with some add-ons. Then we fucked three times and I got zero sleep.  But, what a dream it was.

Hesitant to break, I pull back and look at her. She's giving me that same suspicious eye.

"I told you, we just had a man's evening," I say, in response to the question I know she's asking in her mind.

"I know what you told me, but it's the something you haven't told me that I'm wondering about."

Jesus, I can't put anything past Ana. I wish I wasn't sworn to this secrecy by my son.

"Okay, I took him to the I-Hop," I say, and it's the truth. Plus, I know how she feels when he doesn't get vegetables on school nights.

"Why didn't you let Taylor drive you anywhere today? I'm sure it wasn't because you were trying to keep pancakes a secret from him."

What a fucking snitch! I knew he was all hurt and moody when I told him I'd take Teddy alone in the R8 and I didn't want to be followed by him. He acts like he's my right arm or something. Well, he is, but...

"Because it was a man's afternoon. And Taylor's not a man, he's Taylor."

She turns around and crosses her arms and huffs.

"Ana, do you really think I'm capable of cheating on you?"

"I don't know, I'm just so big now." Where's this talk coming from?

"You are a goddess," I say and move behind her, wrapping myself around her and holding to her belly. "Do you know how fucking hard you make me when you look like this?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I want you to feel." I push myself against her. My erection evident as it presses into her ass.

She moans a little and pushes back against me.

"I wanted to keep it a secret, but we picked out some Valentine's surprises for Phoebe, my mom and Mia... and for you." And Teddy's crush... We'll leave that one off the list. I pull her back into me, even closer.

"You did?" And I can feel her smile as I kiss her cheek and nuzzle her hair.

"Yes, but you'll have to be a good girl and wait until tomorrow night for all of your surprises."

"What if I don't want to be a good girl?"

Now I'm smiling.

Good, it sounds like the winds of her suspicions and hormones have changed and are blowing my way. God, I hope so. Nothing like Ana blowing to get my sails up.

"Well, you know what happens if you're a bad girl..." I run my hands down the sides of her hips and she squirms.

"Yes, Sir." Fuck me. She shimmies her full peach of an ass against me and my cock practically breaks through the two layers of our fabrics and impales her.

"But, I need to tell you something first." She turns around and faces me.

What the hell?

"What is it?"

"It's about the school play tomorrow..." she twists her mouth. Now who's holding something back?

"Yes... Did you and Gail work on the refreshments?"

"Yes, but when I looked on the sheet to see what we were both responsible for, I realized I had gotten the description of our jobs confused."

"What do you mean? No punch and cookies?"

"No, punch and cookies are definitely my responsibility..."

"And?"

"And, they aren't really yours..."

"What are you saying? Just spit it out."

"Well, when I looked on the sheet again to see what was next to your name, all is said was Ham."

"Ham? They want me to bring ham as a refreshment?" That's fucking weird. "Well, don't worry, we don't have to cook one on the fly. I'm sure we can pick one up."

"No, they don't want you to bring the ham." She looks up at me. "They want you to be the ham."

Be the ham?

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You know how Kate and Elliot are playing Romeo and Juliet in the classic Love Through the Ages act?"

"Yeah..."

"There's another part of the show about food couples."

"Food couples? What are food couples?" Is that like foodies? This school gets weirder and weirder by the day.

"Foods that have been paired together, traditionally, throughout time. It's quite cute really. There's Peas and Carrots, Peanut Butter and Jelly..." she looks up at me and scrunches her nose like she knows what I'm about to hear won't be pretty. "Ham and Cheese."

Ham and Cheese?

Ham.

Oh fuck.

"You're not saying—"

"I'm afraid I am..."

"They want me to play a ham on stage?!"

She nods.

"Who's the cheese—on no! Don't tell me. I already know."

She nods again.

"Tilly."

A final nod like the final nail in my coffin.

"No, Ana! I'm not going to pork around on stage with that Tilly-mook cheddar."

She laughs a little. She thinks Tilly's obsession with me is hysterical!

"You think this is funny?"

"Well..."

"It's not funny having a stalker."

"It is when he's standing in front of you like this."

"Funny, haha... No, no way, Ana!"

"Christian, you have to. It's too late to get anyone else."

"Of course it is. Don't you see? That's the way she planned it! That's how she tries to nab men. The only way they'll spend time with her is if they don't know who she is first!"

"Please, Christian. It's for the kids."

"Why can't Taylor be a ham? He'd be good at it."

"Taylor already has a role."

"As what?"

"He's Peas."

"How the hell did I not know about this?"

"Because you wouldn't let him drive you today." She glares a little. I don't want to open up that bucket of bait.

"Well, I'll be Peas and he can be Ham."

"You will not be Peas! Over my dead body!"

Jesus, where'd that come from?

"Why not?"

"Luciana Arroyo is Carrots."

"Luciana A-what-what?"

Ana holds her hands out like watermelons over her breasts. Oh yeah, that mom who just came here from Colombia who never wears a bra.

"Why doesn't Gail have a problem?"

"Because Luciana doesn't thrust her chest in Taylor's face every time she sees him."

"She doesn't thrust her chest at me. It's just...out all the time naturally." Or not naturally, more like it. I think she came from Columbia by way of the Silicone Valley.

"Besides that, you'd hurt Tilly's feelings if you purposely traded not to be with her."

"So, maybe she'd finally take a hint!"

"Christian, let's not cause a scene."

"Exactly, I don't want the scene to happen at all, so let's not cause it to!"

"Christian—"

"No! No way, no how am I coupling with that dreadful woman as some barnyard breakfast romance!"

"But, then you won't be in the show at all."

"Fine, I'll watch from the audience. I'll take pictures and clap for the kids. Hell, I'll even clap for my brother and Kavanagh. But, there's no way I'm changing my mind about sharing that stage with Tilly."

"Daddy, Daddy!" Phoebe and Teddy come running down the stairs in their pajamas.

"I'm so excited for Valentime's tomorrow!" Phoebe says, holding my leg and jumping up and down on my foot.

I pick her up.

"Yeah, me too," Teddy smiles and gives me and wink. I wink back and I don't think Ana saw.

"I can't wait for the show at school!" Phoebe says. "I get to wear wings like an angel and run all over the stage sticking the people's hineys with love arrows."

"You're Cupid?" I ask.

She nods. "Me and Dukey Nutweiler. He's the boy Cupid and I'm the girl."

More of this couples through the ages shit... Where do all these boys pop out from?

"Who's Dukey Nutweiler?"

"Maybe my valentime, I don't know, yet."

"What do you mean?"

"Well... I tolded him I'd tell him after the show. He's gotta be a good actor before I give him my heart on heart day. He's gotta chase me with his arrow and tag me, too."

Oh. My. God.

A good actor?—That's what I'm afraid of.

She's going to be running all over the stage with this kid playing Cupid games? That's even more serious than reindeer games. Shit, I need to keep an eye on this situation and prevent their valentine from happening.. And I can't stop Cupid's arrow from the audience.

"Hey Ana—"

"What?"

"Where's the script? I need to go over my lines."

And just like that—a Ham was born.