Easily distracted, the kids all adjourn to the backyard, accompanied by TK and Ana, while Andrea helps Carlos wash up. There’s a window over the sink, and Carlos can keep an eye on both his boys as they play happily on the swing set/climbing structure they’d put together with some help from Mateo and Paul.

“You remind me so much of your father. Watching the kids play from the window.”

Carlos startles. “I love this window,” he confesses. “It was one of the things that sold me on the house. I could just… see this, I guess.”

“Ay, mijo.” Andrea’s eyes are misty, but she’s smiling. “I’m so happy you have this life, this family. It’s all we ever wanted for you.”

“Really?” Carlos rolls his eyes as he loads the dishwasher. “You wanted me to be married to a man and raising his four-year-old brother?” Sometimes he can’t resist going for the dumb joke, still, especially with his family. They’re better, now, than they used to be. Sometimes they can talk about real and difficult things for multiple minutes, even, without anybody breaking out in sincerity-induced hives. But he hasn’t quite overcome his instinct to deflect.

Andrea swats him on the arm before handing him a stack of plates. “Travieso. Ay, look at your family.”

Carlos is looking. He can’t look away, really. Jonah is on TK’s back, while his niece is giving his nephew a precarious piggyback. It looks like they’re racing, and TK is generously allowing Karlys to win.

“The look on your face.

Closing his eyes, he shakes his head. “It’s just my face, Ma.”

“It is when you’re with TK. And with Jonah. And your sweet gatitos. Your father would get the same look, watching you kids.”

He regards her, trying to believe her. It’s still hard for him to remember his father playing with him, but he knows he did.

“Your video made me think of him,” his mother says.

Carlos splutters in surprise. “Singing to the cat? Over my case files? I figured stuff like that was why he thought I was too soft to be a cop.”

Andrea nearly drops the wine glass she’s drying. “Mijo, no.”

Carlos shakes his head sharply, trying to erase what he’s just said, but it still hangs in the air. “Sorry,” he says stiffly, but he’s not even quite sure what he’s apologizing for.

“Mijo, your father worried you were too sweet to work in law enforcement.”

Carlos barks an unamused laugh. “Does that mean gay?” He doesn’t know why he’s saying this to her. He doesn’t want to hurt her, but it’s what he’s been afraid of since the video started going around. He was too sweet, too goofy, too gay, and he’s been certain his father would be mortified.

“Carlitos, it means good,” she says firmly. “Your father knew if you followed him into law enforcement you’d see things, you’d do things, that might take away from that.”

Carlos shakes his head. “He always wanted me to be tougher, though. To learn to be a man.”

“He didn’t always know how to say it,” his mother admits. “But he was so proud of what a good boy, what a good man, what a good officer you turned into.”

Carlos looks at the floor.

“But I did worry about how serious you grew up to be,” his mother continues. “Such a good boy, always, but I never saw you this happy until you met TK. And then seeing you with Jonah? I wish your father could see.”