Chapter 4

He tiptoes out of my bedroom ahead of me, and I follow as close behind him as I can, careful not to make a sound. From down the hall, I hear faint music, some jazzy rendition of an old Christmas song. There’s a clink of glasses, too, and soft words, a low chuckle, Papa’s throaty growl that he makes when he’s giving Daddy “the look.” I don’t know exactly what it means, but I’ve seen the slow smile that growl brings to Daddy’s face, so it has to be something good. When Papa does that, Daddy usually tells him, “Wait ‘til the kids are in bed, you dirty old man,” which always makes Alex laugh.

“He isn’t dirty or old!” Alex will squeal, as if he’s in on the joke.