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I was traveling when everything went sideways and I found myself stuck in New York City for the night--hotel room already booked, city lights pulsing outside the window, and the sudden, sharp realization that I didn't want to spend it alone. So I texted my step-son. He showed up less than an hour later, still a little flushed from the subway, that familiar mix of surprise and heat already in his eyes. The door barely clicked shut before the air between us thickened. I didn't bother with small talk. I just stepped into him, hands sliding under his clothes, pulling him closer until our mouths met--hungry, deliberate, the kind of kiss that said I know exactly what I want tonight.