“It’s my favorite,” I tell them. “It’s about finding your family—not just the one you’re born with, but the one you adopt along the way. About finding where you belong, even if the rest of the world sees you as a misfit.”
Forrest gives me a look that’s almost too knowing, like he understands exactly why I’ve chosen this particular film. His eyes hold mine for a beat too long, saying things we’re not ready to put into words.
“Sounds perfect, right, Koda?” he asks her, but his gaze is still on mine. After she nods emphatically, he asks her to cover her eyes for just a moment. Her little hands fly obediently over her clamped eyes, and Forrest leans over his daughter to quickly find my lips.
The kiss shocks me. It feels new, and a little too risky. We can’t explain to Dakota what we are, because we don’t even know.
“What’re you doing?” I whisper-mouth at him.
“How could I not after all that?” he murmurs back.
As the movie plays, we settle into a comfortable tangle of limbs. The fort cocoons us in a bubble of shared warmth and flickering blue light from the screen. Dakota nestles between us, munching contentedly on a gummy-worm cookie that Forrest was a good enough sport to try—then spit out once Dakota’s head was turned. I find myself watching them more than the film—the way Forrest absentmindedly strokes his daughter’s hair, the matching expressions of concentration on their faces.
“You have the same crease between your eyebrows when you’re focusing,” I whisper to Forrest over Dakota’s head.
His grin lights up the whole damn room. “Do we?”
“Mhm. It’s adorable.”
“She’s Hannah’s mini-me,” he says. “It’s nice to think some of my traits fought their way through.”
“She got your earlobes, your dimples, your toes”—I touch my forehead—“and that little concentration crease.”
He laughs out loud, and is met by Dakota’s serious scowl, her displeasure lit up by the television’s light. “Shhh,Daddy.”
“How come Sora didn’t get shushed?” He acts playfully offended.
“Because she’s a lady,duh,”Dakota defends like her dad is the most clueless person on the block. “You don’t shush ladies.”
I hold my ribs, trying to push back against the giggly heaves.
“Only a couple months, and I’m already getting ganged up on,” Forrest mumbles in displeasure, with glee splattered all over his face.
My eyes land on Dakota, investigating her bright-as-the-sun blond locks, a stark contrast from Forrest’s rich brunette. “Doesit bother you she looks so much like Hannah?” I ask in the lowest whisper I can so as not to interrupt what I’m convinced is Dakota’s new favorite movie.
“No. Hannah’s a beautiful woman.”
I flash him a look. “That’s strike three, mister.”
He reaches for my cheek, but I pull away, pretending I’m mad. Okay, maybe I am a speckle…a smidgeon…a fairy whisper…annoyed.
“No, it’s not what I meant. I—wait. What were strikes one and two?”
I hold up one finger. “Keeping my ten thousand dollars.” Another finger joins the first. “Telling me I kiss like a fish.”
He chuckles again, too loudly, earning anothershushfrom Dakota. “Got it,” he tells her, lowering his whisper another notch. “I meant Hannah is a beautiful woman the way a panther is a beautiful cat. And the way a butterfly is a beautiful insect.”
I squint at him. “If you’re trying to diffuse the bomb with confusion…you’re succeeding.”
He smiles, ducking his head low, then looking up at me with glorious puppy eyes. “Beauty is just a physical description. For me, it’s really not enough to elicit an emotional connection. And for a man whose entire operation is based on lust, I can see how shallow it is.”
I check Dakota’s reaction to see if she knows by some disaster whatlustmeans, but her eyes are glued to the movie.
“So are you saying I’m not beautiful enough to make you fall for me?” I ask teasingly.
“Sora,” he says, dead serious. “You’re magical. Whatever it is about you that makes men fall head over heels is in your bones…your soul. So the fact that you’re gorgeous is just the cherry on top of something so much better.”
I think it’s the first time in my entire life I’m speechless. There’s not an adequate response to a statement like that, except maybe…
