“Anyway.” Ford reaches forward to toast Rhys. “A fucking wrestler, man—that’s pretty cool.” West lifts his glass, but then pauses. “Wait, so are you just a cat dad?” Rhys shrugs, looking almost bashful. “I’m a cat dad. And I was friends with Erika, so I’ve done my best to fill that role for Milo. Like where I can. I love him like he’s my own. Even though I know it’s not the same—” “Nah.” West waves him off. “Don’t qualify that. Parenthood isn’t black and white. It sneaks up on us where we least expect it. If it walks like a duck and all that.”
