Reaching into my pocket, I took out the little, black box and slid it her way. “Happy Birthday, Rosalee.” She squealed, diving for the box. “Is it a ferret? Oh, Daddy, please let it be a ferret.” Yeah. She called me Daddy. And yeah. I loved it. The first time she’d babbled dada, I’d known I was in trouble. The first time she’d called me daddy, I’d nearly hit my knees. And the first time she’d said “I love you, Daddy,” I’d frozen, my chest so tight that I thought there was a solid chance I was having a heart attack. Once I’d felt comfortable that I didn’t need to call an ambulance, I’d
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i think i'm going to love this book LMAO
