“You bet your ass I am,” she says, but she’s smiling. “You just listen to Grandma, Tilly.”
“Ignore the swearwords, though,” I say. “And I’m a feminist, too.”
Andi gives me side eye.
“I am! Hey, I know you could have fixed your bed yourself when it broke, I just wanted to help.”
“You broke her bed?” Dad frowns.
“Much as I’m happy you’re having energetic sex, that is a bit TMI, even for me,” Mom says.
“I didn’t break her bed!Shebroke it!”
“I was alone,” Andi adds hastily. “Anyway, I can vouch for the fact that he’s changed a lot of diapers. He was a single dad; there was nobody else to change them. He still does more than me.”
Mom beams. “We raised you right.”
I press my lips together. Yeah. Yeah, they did. Even though I wanted more from them in terms of boundaries and rules, there were things they taught me—empathy, loyalty, honesty. Love. Important things. Maybe I’m just now realizing how important.
“I love you, Mom.”
She sends me a soft look of affection. “I love you, too.”
“You too, Dad.”
“Love you, son.”
Andi and I exchange another glance that’s loaded with emotion. God, I love her, too.
We get busy opening gifts in front of the big tree I’m so glad we have. I sit on the floor with Tilly between my legs, a pile of gifts in front of us. I pick up a gift with a tag that saysTo Tilly, From Andi.
“I bought those presents weeks ago,” Andi says. “I wasn’t sure I’d get to give them to you.”
Fuck. I pause at the sharp jab to my heart.
Tilly’s curious and I help her by ripping the paper a bit. She grabs the wrapping paper in her fist and yanks, pulling off a big chunk.
“Attagirl.”
She waves the paper around then brings it in front of her to study it and crumple it, more interested in the paper than thegift. Then she starts to stuff it into her mouth and I swiftly pluck it away from her. Eventually we get the present open. “Books! Perfect.” I hold the books to show her. “You love books.”
“She’ll be reading in no time,” Mom says.
“She should probably learn to talk first,” I say dryly. Then I see one of the books.My First Book of Sharks. I separate it from the others, then turn to Andi.
She smiles.
Christ. I love her.
With my chest full of emotion, I show the book to Tilly. She turns one of the stiff pages. She’s brilliant.
“Look. That’s a shark. A basking shark.” I pause. What if talking about sharks makes her cry?
Nope. She’s fascinated. That’s my girl.
We next open gifts from Mom and Dad, and they open ones to and from each other.
Then Andi opens the one from me. It’s in a gift bag since it’s an odd shape.
