Page 85 of York

“What?” Denny asked.

“There are a bunch of toys inside the plane just waiting for you to open them.”

She dropped both our hands and charged up the steep stairs.

“When reasoning fails, bribes always seem like a good idea,” York said when I shot him a look.

“I’m kinda just mad I didn’t think of it,” I admitted, starting up the steps.

He hadn’t been kidding about there being a ‘bunch’ of toys. Teddy, it seemed, had bought out half a toy store.

Denny was so distracted by it that she growled—actually growled—when we had to abandon her toys to strap in for takeoff.

As soon as it was safe, she whipped off her belt and ran back to the unopened packages while York passed me a beer from the fridge, clinking his bottle to mine as we watched our daughter claw at the cardboard on the back of a package of little fuzzy animal figurines.

“She’s fun as fuck on Christmas, isn’t she?”

“This is new,” I admitted. “In the past, she’s been the slowest present opener in history. And she had to pause in between each package to open it, look it over, set it carefully aside, then get rid of the paper before reaching for the next. I have the feeling this year is going to be pure chaos.” I looked over at him. “You know, if there are still any toys left in the world that she doesn’t own by then.”

He shrugged at that. “I had a lot of time to make up for. And this felt necessary.”

“I’m not going to argue with that,” I agreed. “I hate how anxious she was.”

“Me too. But now she’s done it, she won’t be scared the next time.”

“This is true.”

“How are you doing? Where’s your head at, now that you’re not worried about Denali?”

“Well, part of me is still a little in awe of this insane plane.”

“Right? I think I like Teddy’s understated, old-money interior to Zayn’s chaotic party plane.”

“After all the stories I’ve heard about him, I’m not sure if I’m excited or terrified to meet Zayn.”

“He will show you the time of your life. That you may or may not remember. And hopefully don’t end up waking up in a foreign country without your fucking passport.”

“No!”

“Yep.”

“You?”

“No. Coast. We basically had to smuggle him back into the States.”

“Wild times you guys have had.”

“I’m not the one who woke up to find a mother opossum had climbed in your tent.”

“I still don’t know how she got in. Those babies were so cute, though. I helped her pile them onto her back before letting her out of the tent.”

“Mama,” Denny cut off what York was about to say.

“What’s up?”

“Can I show my new babies the bedroom?”

“Sure can,” I said, waving back toward it. “She’s exhausted,” I told York when she was gone, closing the door behind her. “She only got a few hours last night.”