“What about you, Daddy?” he asks in a mocking tone. “Lagavulin and fuck off.” Henry sinks into the spot on the couch next to me. His cheeks carry a pinkish hue. As Preston and Margo start a conversation, I lean into Henry’s side, inhaling his spicy cologne, craving his touch. “I take it you told them?” “I did.” “And?” “They were as shocked as I was but supportive. More so than I expected, to be honest. But they’ve also been calling me that all night,” he adds. “What? Daddy?”
