I inhaled, a sound that shattered the silence, and I glanced up to see my father holding my mother, who was wiping her eyes.
“Because he doesn’t give presents,” Liv said for Gabe.
Reid looked up at her, his eyes darting between her and Gabe. “He’s your daddy, too?”
A simple question, but with so much weight that I felt it settle over her.
“Yes.”
Reid took the present from Gabe and set it down. He got to his feet and gave Gabe a hug that nearly knocked him over, then ran to Liv and tackled her with a hug that left her frozen.
“She doesn’t do hugs, buddy,” Gabe said with a laugh that eased the tension in the room.
But Liv accepted the hug, holding him tight until she peeled him from her. “Don’t wrinkle me,” she said, humor in her voice.
“You’re in pajamas,” Gabe observed.
She shot him a look as Reid sat down with the present. “It’s good that he’s trying to be nice,” he said. There were times hereminded me of a tiny adult. It was the side of him he got from Gabe because in those moments he sounded and looked the most like him.
“I think so, too,” I said.
He gave me a big smile before he tore into the present.
“Is that a briefcase?” my brother asked.
“Leave it to my father to give a child a briefcase for Christmas. No wonder Mama bought all the gifts,” Liv muttered.
Gabe ran a hand through his hair as Reid excitedly took the child-sized briefcase from its box. Fingers tracing the engraved initials, he read them, “R. N. I. Reid Nathaniel. What’s the I for?”
My heart stopped, blood freezing in my veins. I’d never stopped to think about his last name, giving him mine on his birth certificate since Gabe was no longer in the picture. But I had listed Gabe as his father with the only name I knew him by: Gabriel Hughes.
Gabe seemed as speechless as I was because we hadn’t discussed this yet, and we’d only just gotten engaged.
“Icinda,” I said, finally finding my words. “It’s Gabe’s last name and will be mine when we marry.”
“And that means it’s mine, too?”
Gabe looked over at me, and I nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “It will be.”
That was the end of the conversation for Reid, who opened the case, his excitement growing at the things inside: a miniature legal pad, a pen, a play phone, and a clip-on tie.
“Can we go play?” he asked.
“Of course you can,” I told him.
He stood, keeping the briefcase in his hand as he gathered a few other toys and ran off with his cousin. My mother said something about starting lunch as we picked up the discarded wrapping paper.
Grabbing the box to stuff it into, I said, “Gabe, there are other presents in here.”
His head snapped up, and everyone froze. I pulled the three small packages out.
“For Reid?” he asked, and I shook my head.
I handed the one with Liv’s name to her, the one with his name to him, and kept the third one with my name on it.
“Why don’t we help your mom with lunch?” Brandi said, dragging Cash from his seat.
