“Thanks,” I said when he set the plate down in front of me. “My pleasure.” “You’re always feeding me.” “It’s what parents do. It’s in our blood.” For some reason, that unsettled me. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t think of you like that.” “As a parent?” He set a glass of orange juice down in front of me and another one next to his plate. “Yeah. I mean, I know you are, but not to me.” He fixed his gaze on me for a moment—unwavering—and then he smiled.
