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Amalia was wearing her best dress. Her mother had tied her hair into two buns on top of her head and let two curls escape out of her bangs. Her exy equipment was clean and organized inside her bag, the class was still going to last 15 minutes, but she had asked to leave early — she just hoped her father wouldn't care.
Of course, she felt a little — just a little — guilty for not taking full advantage of the practice time and doing the best she could; When your father was Kevin Day, your mother Thea Muldani and you decided that you wanted to follow the same path as them, it was something that ended up getting into your head.
But that morning, when her mother helped her zip up her gear bag and her backpack full of things for the week, she looked at her straight in the eyes and almost smiled when she said: “He is still your father before anything in the newspapers, always remember that first.”
And it wasn't like she forgot, because it was hard to forget. Her parents didn't live together, Amalia couldn't think of any time when they actually did. Her mother never wore a nice ring and her father didn't have any wedding photos on the walls. She spent a week with one and another week with the other, it was a bit complicated during the game season and sometimes she ended up staying with her grandpa if it was too busy — he did have photos of a wedding on the wall and his wife wore a beautiful ring.
But she still wasn't like her friend, Eva, who said that her mother complained about her father and that sometimes he forgot to pick her up from school and her mother couldn't go, so she waited for the bus alone and that left her very upset. It wasn't like that with them, her parents didn't live together, but Thea just called him “history nut”, but always talked about it with a smile. Her father was busy, Amalia had a notebook where she made magazine collages with all things about exy. It was about equipment, statistics and the season's award-winning players — and because of that, there were many, many photos of her father.
But even though he was so busy, when they weren't together, he called every night.
He was busy, her mother was too, but they didn't leave her aside. Her mother was sad about having to make the trip to an away game and knowing that she wouldn't see her again until the end of the other week. Thea keeps saying she was going to make up for it, but Amalia didn't think she needed that. She wouldn't be there to pick her up after training (just that once), but Amalia knew, with all the certainty in the world, that her father would.
That's why she asked to leave fifteen minutes early, and hoped her father wouldn't mind. Because she knew he liked to arrive early and be at the door to wait for her.
Her mother said he was a star and sometimes stars took a while to come home. She didn't see him for a whole month and she missed him so so so much.
So she left fifteen minutes early, just enough to find him in the school hall opening the door. She left the equipment and supplies on one of the benches and ran, because her father was tall, but he was always low enough to find her.
He picked her up and she grabbed his neck. Amalia could feel his face twisted into a big smile as he bent her over and filled her with kisses, tickled her and she laughed, swinging her legs and not holding back her happy exclamations.
When Kevin set her back down, she ran just far enough so she could grab her backpack and equipment, she opened it and proudly held up the shiny racket.
“Mom bought it for me.” She seemed happy.
“Isn't it heavy for you?” Kevin asked, he tossed it from one hand to another, raising his eyebrows just a little.
“I like it, it gives me more strength when playing.” She said, “And today in training I scored half the points.”
“And you still left early?”
“And I still left early!”
“You are brilliant.”
And Kevin smiled when he said that, in a big way that her mother always called beautiful. Amalia hid her hands behind her back to hide how excitedly she was twisting her fingers. A short time later, they left the building together, she was carrying the bag with her racket — because you don’t let anyone carry your equipment — while your father had a pink princess backpack on one of his shoulders.
When they arrived at the parking lot, Amalia realized that the car they were going to was not her father's car. And that made her stop, her fingers twisted around the strap of her bag, but it wasn't at all the happy and excited way it had been before.
A lot of people didn't know, because her father said it wasn't anyone's business to know; but he didn't live with his mother because now, he lived with two players. Amalia didn't know as much about them as she did about her father, she knew that one of them was called Andrew and the other, Neil. She knew that her mother didn't like them much, she knew that they and her father had played together for many years on her grandpa's team. She knew they were strange, that Neil had had problems with criminals and Andrew didn't say much at all.
Amalia also knew that her father kissed them both every night before going to sleep.
She didn't like it, not one bit. Because Eva's parents don't live together and, as far as she knew, they weren't dating anyone else. Eva told her as her mother had explained “he loved me so much that after he moved away, he never wanted to live with anyone else. That’s what passionate people do.”
Amalia knew it was nonsense, she knew what a divorce was, she knew that even if that were true, it wouldn't be the same with her parents because they had never been married. But one thing about her, just one little thing, kept her thinking that maybe, just maybe, Andrew and Neil had something to do with that.
People who dated kissed each other, but Amalia never met someone who could kiss two people at the same time. Eva said that her father had already kissed someone else while he was still living with her mother and that she heard them say that while they were talking at night, when they thought she was sleeping and that was the reason they no longer lived together. Amalia wondered if maybe it was because of them that her parents didn't live together too, but she really doubted that she would know about Andrew and Neil if they did.
But Amalia knew that her father lived with Andrew and Neil, she knew that they saw each other much more often than she got to see him, she knew that they discussed team things together and went out on dates. The last time they had seen each other at a charity Christmas dinner, Amalia had seen a ring on her father's hand, one that had never been on her mother's hand, but was on Andrew and Neil's.
They spent a lot more time with her father than she did, even though she tried.
Amalia hadn't realized she had stopped walking with her father until he had crouched down in front of her in the middle of the parking lot. She stared blankly at the beautiful, black car; With the windows down, she could see Neil and Andrew talking in the front seats.
“You said it would just be us.” She said, a part of her didn't like bothering her father with those things. Her mother said that she should spend her time with him having fun and not worrying. But it was her father, and she knew he always wanted to know what she thought.
Kevin sighed, he looked over his shoulder.
“Yes, my dove.” Kevin began. “But it's their house too, you know.” Amalia tightened her grip on the strap of her bag. It wasn't the answer she wanted.
“But they weren't last time.”
“They had games, Neil and Andrew are on vacation this time and I thought it would be good if we spent the week together. “
“Like family ?’
Her voice looked hurt, Amalia knew it did, and she kind of wanted it to. Her father tilted his head a little to the side; her mother said that she did the same thing when she was reading and that it was funny, but Amalia also knew that she did that when she was upset and Kevin was.
It wasn't fair, she knew it wasn't. Even though they were friends, she and Eva had many differences, but Eva had two families and she knew she did too. But Eva's family was her father and mother, not her father, mother and two strangers.
It was terrible.
Amalia didn't like that.
His father knew better.
Kevin looked at her, his face twisted in upset into a perfect reflection of what his face looked like when she was upset. He held your shoulders gently but firmly. He brushed one of the strands of bangs away from her forehead and looked down at her, as if asking, begged And for a moment, Amalia thought that maybe, just maybe, the answer to her question would be yes.
“No.” That's what Kevin said though. Slowly, as if the three letters carried the weight of a thousand words. “No, my dove. Not if you don't want to. It’s just…” He sighed. “They are part of my life now. They always have been. As much as you. And I don't want it to be weird or you to get the wrong idea about them. I want you to get to know each other, that's all.” Amalia looked away, but Kevin held her face between his hands, carefully, giving her enough space to take it away if she didn't want to. “Can you try to do that for me?”
And Amalia wanted to say no.
That wasn't fair.
That they could have Kevin as much as she did, otherwise more.
However, she didn't say that. She took a deep breath and gave the smallest smile she could manage, but that seemed to be enough for her father. He picked her up and walked with her to the car. Andrew was in the driver's seat and Neil was next to him, when he smiled at her, Amalia smiled back. When Kevin put her in the backseat, buckled in, and sat next to her, she kept shaking her legs and head for every question he asked her.
But Amalia, at the same time, didn't say a word during the entire trip.
✉
In her mental count, Amalia was losing.
His father's house - which was also the house of them two — had two floors and a very, very large garden. Amalia had a room with a bathroom of her own that she could decorate the way she wanted: it had pink walls with a wall made of green paint that she and her father used to draw with chalk when they were bored, Kevin gave her a big shelf that she could fill with whatever books and decorations she wanted. Her bed was big and had a huge green canopy with white flowers that made her feel like a princess every time she slept. At the same time, one side of her room had her old uniforms and rackets because her father, for some reason, didn't want to throw them away or sell them — “you'll understand why I kept them when I'm older,” he said. But Amalia doubted it, because her father kept talking about how much she was like her mother in letting go of things.
She knew it was true, because as much as she loved her room, when she was at her father's house, she slept with him almost every night. And sometimes, he would curl up next to her in the bed in her pink room, with a big book about the seven wonders of the world. They would read together all night long until they fell asleep and would only remember the book forgotten under the bed when they would do it again.
Amalia hadn't entered her pink room, nor had she entered her father's room.
In the garden, Kevin had made a mini area so she could train after a day in which Amalia said she had difficulty scoring goals — and she improved, they trained together every day that week. The area was half the distance from the attack line to the goal because their problems were only with their throws. At first, the distance was almost threatening, but now, all this time later, Amalia saw it as just a small enemy to be overcome.
Of course, this wasn't one of those good days.
She was still in uniform and felt that her father was still a little upset from early on, especially since she didn't say much before grabbing her equipment and heading straight to her mini court, but she couldn't help it.
It was his house before it was “ Andrew and Neil's house too”. If they were such good players — and they were, she knew they were - they could very well spend a week in a hotel and if Kevin still wanted to both of them around, he should invited them to dinner or something else and left her out, she knew that her grandpa would love to spend more time with her and her alone .
The tide of thoughts only made her play harder, but the shot went wrong and the ball didn't go even remotely close to the goal. She huffed, frustrated, each hit was a point for her team and each mistake was a point for the rival team. She was already from seven to three, with no improvement expected.
Amalia squeezed the racket in her hands, they had been sore since early in the morning because she had worked hard in the morning training because she knew her father would be happy to know that she had done well. Her plans were to arrive, have a shower and hot chocolate and they would watch the new documentary about Egypt which looked amazing .
But her father was in the kitchen, because she had said she would train alone. The sun was setting quickly in late autumn and she would be cold if she weren't huffing and sweating. Her arms hurt and her hands burned, but she refused to let go of the racket.
Instead, she sat on the ground, feeling the cold grass sting her legs. Her eyes burned and she sniffled to avoid what she knew was coming. She didn't want to cry, because she didn't like it and because she knew that it would make everything worse, her father would feel bad and she didn't want that.
Still, it wasn't fair.
She clutched her racket and her knees close to her chest when she heard the kitchen door open. She expected to see her father's bare feet beside her, but found only a pair of slightly worn-out All Stars. Neil was sitting next to her, an ice pack placed between them. She tried not to be rude — she was polite first and foremost — but she couldn't help but look away when he smiled.
“If you put it in your hands, it will help.” He said, pointing to the ice pack on the floor. She raised her eyebrow and he shook his shoulders. “You were throwing well at the beginning, you started making mistakes at the end.”
“I don't need it.” She mumbled. “Thanks.”
It was whispered, but Neil didn't seem like he would mind anyway.
He continued to stand there, looking over his shoulder every now and then. Amalia shook her feet, tightened her grip on the racket, when Neil looked at the kitchen again, she got tired.
“Dad sent you?” She asked, and surprise was a breath on Neil's face.
“No.” He replied. “But if he turned his head one more time, he would break his neck.”
“Why did you come then?”
“You seemed frustrated.” He spoke. “Upset, irritated…”
“ I'm not—”
She didn't finish the sentence. Amalia had dropped her racket and jumped to her feet. From top to bottom, Neil didn't look like much. He was much shorter than her mother and father combined, she knew that with a little effort and a few more vegetables at lunch, she would surpass his height. She didn't know if it was the blue eyes, the red hair, or the scars that made him so interesting to Kevin, and if so, Andrew wasn't even half as good.
Maybe it was because of their history together, but Amalia still wasn't allowed to know everything about it. Neil was a strange guy in her eyes and that was all she had to say about him. He might know about her father and his other equally weird boyfriend, but not about her, she was upset, frustrated and all the rest, but he was no one to say that.
She took a deep breath, she hated feeling like she was pouting in front of strangers, but it was in her face before she could stop it. Amalia picked up her racket and her little pride and sank into the grass again, leaving was not something she should do — even though after sitting for so long, she kind of really wanted her shower and hot chocolate.
Neil remained by her side, a fight of silence and resistance began between them as the sun sank lower and lower over the house and the cold wind made them both shiver from time to time — it was an unfair fight, because Neil was wearing Andrew's black coat draped over his shoulders, because there was no world where his clothes would suit him.
She held the racket tighter, curling into a ball as best she could. Neil sighed, looking tired and surrendering, he took the compress and placed it on her knee and Amalia jumped in surprise when she realized that it was warm and not cold, it would probably be hot if it hadn't been standing still for so long.
She stared at Neil, unable to stop the all-consuming curiosity from appearing on her face. He was already looking away again, in the direction where the balls were abandoned after all the throws.
“We're not your enemies here.” He said, and it took a lot for her not to roll her eyes.
“Neither are my friends” she replied, and Neil pondered for just a moment before agreeing.
“I know.” He admitted. His voice was so clean and accurate that she turned sharply towards him, as if trying to follow a figure. Amalia had a tough tongue, her mother had already called her attention for this, her granpa Wymack and her father too. It wouldn't be the first time she said she wasn't friends with someone, no matter who they were, but usually they were either embarrassed or tried to say over her head that they were, and that if they weren't, they would be.
But not Neil.
Neil looked uncomfortably resigned.
Amalia turned around, resting the racket on her legs and holding the hot water bottle between her hands — because it was cold, that's all — and glared at Neil hard enough to make him look back at her.
“You are strange.” She said, Whether she wanted it to sound insulting or not, she would leave it to Neil to decide and then she would play with it. But the man just shook his shoulders in an unimpressed half laugh.
“You're not the first person to tell me that.” He assured, his fingers pointing to the various marks on her face and she almost (almost) felt guilty. Neil didn't give her time for that, anyway. “Andrew is no better.”
“You guys are weird.” She corrected herself. “All of you.”
“Your father, even?”
“ Yes.” And there it was again, the irritation that had escaped at the beginning. Neil laughed that time and Amalia hoped it wasn't from his cheeks turning red. “You are boring.”
“No, the situation is boring.” It was his turn to correct, Neil threw his body forward, just a little closer to her. “I know it must be strange to see your father dating two people. Or not see him with your mother.”
“They’re divorced.” It was a lie, but with luck, Neil wouldn't know about it. Judging by his unimpressed expression, that wasn't the case. “People date other people when they get divorced.”
“Then why do you seem so angry about this?”
“ Because—”
And again, nothing. Her irritation rose in her throat and carried the words, but lost all strength before it even reached her tongue. And she didn't know why, she knew perfectly well what she wanted to be able to say to Neil and Andrew: “ You're weird, you're idiots, you're not as good as dad at games, he coached you and he told me. He spends more time with you and I hate it, you took him away from mom and me, I know he doesn't even really like you.”
But there, looking at Neil and feeling the hot water bottle relax the cold, aching muscles in her hands, she knew exactly why. She was upset and wanted them to feel some of that, her mother listened to her and told her that she didn't need to worry, and if she had just a little more courage, she could tell Kevin how much she missed him and that it wasn't fair that his two weird boyfriends could spend more time with him than her just because they were adults. And deep down, deep down, she wished she could hurt them with her words just a little.
But there were photos in frames at her father's house, there were the same number of photos of her as Neil and Andrew, there was a space for her in that house that was never taken, if they didn't try to take it away it would be fine and if her father didn't had allowed it, it was even better — but she knew they didn't try to, because she knew how much her mattered to her father. He called to say that every night, and if he didn't say it, he wrote it down. Kevin whispered into her hair before bed every time they were together and it was the first thing he said as soon as he woke up.
Looking at Neil, seeing how much of him they had in the house, she imagined that maybe her father loved him as much as he loved her and as much as perhaps he had loved her mother. And she thought, just a little, about how upset she would be if someone said that to her.
Neil stared at her in silence all that time and then smiled. It was small, a little boring, perhaps. He took the dark coat off his back and threw it over her shoulders. Amalia knew that her father's two boyfriends smoked a lot, but the clothes smelled clean of soap and fabric softener.
“You think too much for someone of your size.” Neil said, his voice many tones lower and an infinite amount softer. “You’re really your father's daughter.” He stopped, looking at her for just a minute. “I know that we are strangers to you and that you don't like us. And that's okay. I understand. But we don't want your bad, nor your father. If you can't stand us, then maybe just don’t hate us, if not for us, then for him. I bet he's looking at us right now.”
Amalia tilted her head a little, there he was, her father in the doorway with his arms crossed and his face sunken as when he was very worried. The tattoo on her cheek puckered up and looked like a very very large mole from afar, it was funny, so she laughed.
“We want the best for you as much as he does. So let's raise the white flag for now, shall we?” Neil said finally. He waited patiently until Amalia briefly nodded. Neil smiled one last time and adjusted his heavy black coat over his shoulders. “And if you need help with the launches, you can call me. Sometimes your father forgets that not everyone can play with both hands.”
Neil got up, Amalia gathered the rest of her courage along with the racket and the hot water bottle following right behind.
“Neil.” She called, he raised his eyebrow. “…Hm, can you help me pick up the balls?”
And the surprise was on Neil's face, just a breath again. But his smile didn't seem so shy anymore as he nodded.
“Of course.”
✉
On Wednesday, the weather was really really cold at two in the morning and Amalia was freezing, without a drop of sleep.
Her pink room had a heater, but it didn't help with her sleep. She had done everything she could — read her books, drank hot milk before bed, and counted sheep in the two languages she knew — without any success.
It was unfair because she was tired. She had accepted Neil's help and they had practiced that morning, Neil had a different technique than her father and she hated to admit it, but the way he had told her to hold the racket was better than what Kevin had taught her — it gave her more firmness and more strength to throw, in her little mental competition, she had won ten to four.
That is, of course, until Andrew enters the story.
He wasn't known for being one of the best goalkeepers just because. Amalia knew about the match against the Crows, her father's old team, where Andrew had only let thirteen balls pass out of more than a hundred throws and that was incredible. She couldn't help but think about the fear she felt when she saw him arrive with his own racket at the goal. He seemed a sea of apathy and disinterest and always looked at Neil — who always seemed incredibly smiling — seeming to be searching for the willpower to be there.
Obviously none of Amalia's goals passed, she lost badly twenty to zero. Kevin had watched the whole thing and she was embarrassed when she sat next to him afterwards to drink water. It didn't stop Kevin from telling her how proud he was of the progress she'd made — it didn't mean anything because she hadn't won, but it made her feel less worse off.
Maybe it was what was keeping her from sleeping. She had discovered — based on her own conclusions — that Neil's attitude was what made him interesting to her father, and perhaps it was Andrew's ability that did the same.
She thought that as she wrapped herself in the blanket and went downstairs, she couldn't use the stove, but she could use the microwave, so she would make herself a hot chocolate and go upstairs with it, watching Adventure Time until she fell asleep.
That was the plan.
But of course, the plan didn't include finding Andrew in the kitchen.
Andrew wasn't even one percent of how exotic Neil was. He was blond, had dark eyes and other than his apparent lack of interest in anything he did, there was no big deal.
He was in dark pajamas and wrapped in a fuzzy, blue hobbie that Amalia knew was her father's. The kitchen counter was filled with milk, chocolate milk and marshmallows, the hot cinnamon milk heating on the stove spread the smell and warmed the kitchen.
Amalia stood in the doorway, her feet cold on the floor, she and Andrew stared at each other in silence as if they had both been caught doing something they shouldn't. She opened her mouth, but had nothing to say, she took a small step back and Andrew pointed to the table full of things.
“Want?”He asked, and Amalia considered it a little, the marshmallows were still closed. It was really hard to let it go, so she said yes.
When she sat at the table, curling up as best she could on the blanket, Andrew opened the cupboards and took out two mugs and another bag of marshmallows. One of the mugs was her pink one and the packets of marshmallows were the little heart-shaped ones that Kevin bought for her.
Andrew added the hot milk, two spoons of chocolate milk, and all the marshmallows that would fit. His mug seemed ridiculously sweeter and more exaggerated, but just as good. When she took the first sip, she raised her eyebrows. If Andrew had said that Kevin had done it, she would have believed it without doubt.
Andrew drank in silence, he didn't look at her, but he also didn't seem as reclusive as usual. She swung her legs under the table, grabbing her cup and warming her hands.
“Why are you dating daddy?” She asked and Andrew stopped mid-sip.
Andrew rested his head on his hand, looking a little less bored than before.
“Because he's an idiot.” Was the answer. Quick and direct.
“Like Neil?”
Andrew looked at her. He took a long, long drink, and almost seemed to laugh.
“You're just like him. Your father.” Andrew replied, Amalia felt his beak again.
“ Idiot ?”
“Insistent. Smart.” Meneou. “A bookworm.”
“I'm not a worm!”
“Crazy about exy.”
“I'm not crazy!” She complained.
“You have his eyes.”
Amalia withered. Andrew looked deep into her eyes, as if studying her for as long as she allowed him to. When she looked away, she felt the man do the same. The silence continued until Andrew made himself another hot chocolate and sat down again.
“What do you want to know?” Andrew encouraged, and Amalia jumped in the chair. Andrew didn't look impressed.
“What?”
“Junkie said you think we're weird. And your father is getting more worried than I can stand.” Andrew postponed “Tell me what you want to know so things get better for you and you don't get so angry anymore.”
Amalia pondered for a moment. She took another sip from the cup, her hand still warm, the perfect, familiar taste dancing in her mouth. She sighed, looked at Andrew, more curious than determined.
“How did you know how I liked it?” she asked, pointing to her pink mug. “How did you know about my mug?”
“Your father made it for you this morning.” Andrew replied.
“And you remembered?”
“I always remember.”
Amalia waited.
“Why don't you call him by his name?”
“Because he is your father before anything else. I know what it's like to be afraid that someone you love will be stolen from you.” Andrew said. Amalia tightened her grip on her cup to the point that she began to fear that it might crack in her fingers. “Until you decide it's okay for us to have some of him, that's what he's going to be. Your father.”
It wasn't fair.
The way Andrew spoke, his face clean and disinterested as if he wasn't throwing away all the things she had thought and feared so strongly. She struggled, trying to remember the conversation she had with Neil and she didn't remember the name “Kevin” coming out of his mouth once as they spoke. Amalia took a deep breath, her legs shaking so much that they started to hurt.
“Neil thinks it too?” And Andrew agreed, Amalia drank all the hot chocolate in silence after that.
“Do you want more?” Andrew asked as he stood up, he grabbed more milk and put more marshmallows in his cup, ready for another round.
“Why are you dating daddy?” Amalia repeated the question one last time.
Andrew's shoulders dropped, his face still clear, but just like Neil's two days ago, much, much softer.
“Because he's an idiot.” Andrew repeated the answer, however, with a small sigh, he added; “One of the best I've ever met.”
And Amalia nodded.
It seemed enough.
“I won't ask again.” Andrew pointed to her pink cup.
“Ah!”She laughed. “I do.”
✉
“ ‘ Rain fell that night, a fine, whispering rain. ’ ” — Kevin read quietly beside him. Under the cover, Amalia's feet, wrapped in socks, moved back and forth on her legs. “ ‘ Many years later, Meggie had only to close her eyes and she could still hear it, like tiny fingers tapping on the windowpane. A dog barked somewhere in the darkness, and however often she tossed and turned Meggie couldn’t get to sleep. ’ ”
“I love this book.” Amalia said and her father raised his eyebrows with a small smile. It was the third time they had read Inkheart together. As much as they liked the history books, a change of air was always welcome. “Mom read it once and said it was good.”
“She told me that you insisted a lot.”
“It was the week she lost her lenses and then she said it was bad to wear glasses.”
“It's not bad, she just doesn't like it.” Kevin said. “It's a thing from our old team, she'll see that it's not wrong for her to wear rest glasses.”
‘Do you wear glasses?” she asked.
“No.” He replied promptly, but he thought and thought for a long moment before sighing. “Sometimes, but only sometimes.”
“Neil said you look funny with glasses.”
The comment was small, but enough for the book to slip a little in her father's hands. Standing beside her flower-decorated lamp, his face looked more surprised than usual. “Hopeful” as her grandpa Wymack used to say when he was around her grandmother — because when they were together, they always spoke beautiful words.
But of all his father could have said, he only uttered a small “did he?”
“Uhum. When we trained this morning.” She said, “And Andrew said you look like an idiot.”
“I always look like an idiot to him.”
“Did you know that today Neil said I almost scored a goal on him?” Amalia smiled. “He said he could see on Andrew's face that he had to think before defending.”
“That's… great, my love.” Kevin sighed. ‘It's perfect. You are incredible.”
Amalia smiled even more. She leaned back against her father a little more and waited for him to continue reading, but he didn't. Kevin set the book aside and grabbed her tightly in a warm hug. He smelled like a bath and the tea he drank when Andrew made chocolate for everyone in the kitchen. Kevin took a deep breath, leaving kisses all over herhair.
“I'm sorry it wasn't just the two of us this week.” He said, and there was a depth of hurt. Amalia hugged him back, hugging him a little tighter.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it's not. I really wanted you to understand each other and I went over your heads.’ Kevin continued. “I promise that whenever you want to be just us, it will always be just us.”
“I like it.” Amalia laughed. “But... It's okay, they show up sometimes. They are not that bad.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. And they said they won't steal you from me, so it's okay.” She said, “They like you, so maybe I like them.”
“You do?” Kevin asked, staring with a smile that was the biggest Amalia had seen in recent days. She nodded, adjusting herself back into her position.
“Yeah. Maybe.” She said, “But just maybe.”
‘That’s good.” Kevin said. Over time, Amalia realized that the three of them; Her father, Andrew and Neil, spoke softly when they were happy. “Very good, my love.”
Amalia nodded. She pulled back the covers and hid her cold feet between her father's legs. Kevin was still smiling at her, as if he had just witnessed the coolest thing he could have ever seen — which was good, because Amalia knew that yes, she was very cool — just like her father.
And maybe Andrew and Neil would be cool too.
But just maybe.
“Daddy.’ She poked him on the tip of his chin where his beard used to grow. “Aren't you going to read it?”
“Oh, yes, sorry.” Kevin laughed, embarrassed, but still stupidly happy. He pulled her closer and cleared his throat in the exaggerated way that always made her laugh. — “ ‘ The book she had started to read was under her pillow. It poked her ear with the corner of the cover, as if it wanted to call her back to his pages…’ ”