Tears stream down my face. “Me too. I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant everything led to this.”
“And maybe you couldn’t admit my incredible attributes or appreciate my superior maturity at the time . . .”
We both laugh at his effort to lighten the mood. He continues.
“I can’t recall our prank war with any bitterness whatsoever. We were so obnoxious, but we were obnoxious together. How can I regret how connected we were in our weird way?”
He’s right. My own memories are flooded with fondness.
“What matters is the way you see me today. I want to be the best father for our children.”
Oh my god, be still my beating heart that pounds with emotion and longing. How can I deny myself this joy? This realization? This fact? I want to tell him that he isn’t just thefatherI’ve dreamed for our kids, but themanof my dreams.
A loud whistle blows from his end of the call. Tristan swears.
“I’m getting summoned for practice. Have to get back to the locker room. Have fun today, OK?”
“I will,” I say and realize how much I’m looking forward to it.
CHAPTER 40
TRISTAN
The Mavericks treat me like family. There’s no other way to put it.
I’ve been part of hockey teams all my life. Being warriors on the ice translates to friendships and favors off the ice. But this is another level of looking out for each other. It’s as if in the few months I’ve been with the team, they already consider me—and Ligaya—one of them.
“It’s looking great!” Ligaya’s mom says when she enters the second, much smaller, bedroom that I finished painting. We’re surrounded by the color of early morning light. Ligaya had been too busy to tackle the nursery seriously, so I’m surprising her while she’s away with Ami.
“Thanks,” I say. “Now for the cribs.”
“Want to eat some lunch first?” Cathy asks.
“Yes!” That’s Toby, who has agreed to assist in crib construction.
We head to the kitchen where Orlando is setting the table while Cathy opens containers of rice, chicken on skewers, and roasted vegetables. Compared to my generic, quiet condo in Columbus, this simple lunch is a party.
Isn’t that such a strange turn of events, too?
I returned to Ohio determined to treat it like a pit stop.
Instead, I’m surrounded by allthis.Friends lending a hand as we prepare for the children. Food that tastes like home. Couples who show us how good it could be in the long haul.
And damn, what magic is in this chicken?
“What are you smiling about, son?” Orlando asks me.
I’m taken aback by his observation. “Am I?”
They all nod their heads.
“I’m grateful Ligaya’s getting pampered right now. Can’t wait to see what she’ll say when she sees the nursery finished, although I’m a bit nervous about Toby in charge of instructions.”
“Hey! I can read it in French, too!”
I chuckle. “More than anything, I’m thinking about how much the twins are going to love Filipino food.”
“Ligaya hated my cooking when she was growing up,” Cathy says with mock exasperation.
