“You know what I want for my birthday?”
“What?”
“Morning at the park watching my little girl trying to feed the ducks. Lunch with the best guy I’ve ever blown—”
Andreas snorted with surprised laughter.
“—and a slow-dance in our living room while our baby sleeps upstairs. And then out for an early dinner with the rest of my family, with the maximum of one beer, because I might have to get up in the night to feed or change the kid who’s going to be running my life for the next twenty years or so.”
“In this economy? Try thirty.”
Erik beamed. “Fine. Thirty. Still be slow-dancing in my living room with that guy.”
“Slow shuffling,” Andreas compromised, and finally handed Beatriz back. She gave him a dirty look, and sulked at the boring lack of playtime on her dad’s shoulder. “Let me go and get a shower and dressed.”
“Hey!” Erik called just as Andreas reached the bottom of the stairs.
“What?”
“I still get a birthday present right?”