At first, my own actions had confused me, but at this point, there was no denying the honest truth. I liked spoiling him. I loved it. I loved the faces he made. I loved the way he grinned, all toothy and honest, with these charming crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his cheeks rosy pink. I loved how shocked he was—every single time I pulled a chair out for him, opened his door for him, or bought him something unexpected. Sometimes shocked enough he’d whack his knees on a table, or a chair—or even trip and run into a wall.
