Page 25 of Till Cupid Do Us Part

“Take it out,” she encourages.

I curl my thick fingers around the sturdy handle and pull it free of the paper. The first thing I notice is the high quality of the beer glass. Then, I bring it closer and read the black words that have been laid over the middle of it.

Daddy’s Sippy Cup.

My laugh is loud and rough. Ivy rolls her lips, cheeks pinkening as she watches me, taking in my reaction.

“That bad?” she asks nervously.

“No. It’s perfect. Ridiculous in a good way.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Yeah, angel. It is.”

She runs a finger along the rim of the glass. “Honest to god, Junie chose it. I put the words on after, but she chose the cup in the store. She’s going to be a beer drinker like her daddy.”

“She won’t be drinkin’ alcohol ever,” I mutter.

“Ever? As if.”

“Alcohol leads to bad decisions.”

Ivy clears her throat, staring up at me incredulously. “Like boys?”

“Exactly.”

“She won’t need alcohol to find boys, Niko,” she argues.

“It’s impossible to meet boys when she’s trapped in her room.”

I set the glass down on the counter and pour myself a coffee, leaving it black. It burns my mouth when I take a heavy swig of it.

“She’s not a fairy-tale princess. We’re not trapping her in her room because you’re scared of her falling in love with a boy. Or a girl, by the way. She could decide that she wants a girlfriend instead.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a girlfriend or a boyfriend. She’s not dating, period,” I grouse.

Ivy pries my fingers from my coffee cup and sets it aside before wrapping her arms around me. She props her chin on my chest and holds my stare.

“Oh, baby. Maybe we should have had a boy instead.”

“Because I did such a good job the first time I had one of those?”

I scowl at how self-deprecating that sounds.

Ivy kisses my sternum. “I feel like you’ve been keeping a lot inside when it comes to Travis. Do you want to talk about it more? I’m not the only one who’s allowed to struggle when it comes to him.”

“We’re away for Valentine’s Day. We shouldn’t be spendin’ it talkin’ about him,” I argue.

“Why not? As long as we’re spending time together, I’m happy with whatever we do. I’ve spoken about him plenty of times already, and you didn’t mind it.”

I tuck her hair behind her ear. “You sure?”

“You love to be the man taking care of everyone else, but I’m here to take care ofyou. Even when it comes to your son.”

“I don’t want him to hate me forever,” I admit.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

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