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“Normal is a social construct, mija,” he says immediately. “You’re too good for the world, and I hate that it’s shitting on you. You looked like you were upset before I came in. What’s going on?”

Chewing on my inner bottom lip, I shrug.

“Uh-uh. Absolutely not. We don’t lie to each other in this family. What is it?” Emil asks.

Ugh, I feel like all I do is lie lately. Yes I’m fine, no I can totally handle things. I’m a fucking fraud.

“Ignacio punched a student last week,” I begin, watching Emil’s face carefully. I feel like I’m tattletaling to him. “I’m worried he’ll get in trouble for that. He was in prison at one point, right?”

“He was,” Emil says slowly. “There were many reasons for it, but I also allowed it to happen. I can't get into the details of it, but I won’t let a stupid high school boy who is bullying you be the reason he goes back. It was a well deserved punch, and Lili kept it from going too far. My son is fiercely loyal. He already sees you as his to protect, even if you may think it’s too fast.”

“I…I may be trying to work through that,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice from cracking. Unfortunately, tears begin to well up in my eyes, destroying my ability to stay nonchalant. “I have trust issues.”

“That’s okay, mija,” Emil says, smiling. “We’ll figure it out together. Don’t worry about my son. We have it covered, okay? I also am very good at protecting my family. Now, I did come with a question and bearing gifts.”

“Gifts?” I ask, focusing on that. Taking a breath, I swipe at my cheeks to wipe away the evidence of my emotions spilling from my eyes.

Emil smirks, nodding, “The den is rarely used, and I think we should turn it into an art room for you. I know you like to work with charcoal. If you want to learn a new medium, I’ll pay for virtual classes. Rachelle told me the school is only focusing on your core classes, right?”

“Yes. It’s hard to do some of the extracurricular stuff,” I say. “Since I’m exempt from physical education, I was taking art classes. Now, I just use the time to catch up on homework so I’m done earlier.”

“Bah,” Emil says, his hand flying up in the air. He talks with his hands the way Liliana and Ignacio will when they get excited or mad. It makes me think of punctuation marked by their hands swiping through the air. “You should grow your talent, Noor. You never know where it’ll take you.”

“You think?” I ask. “I’ve always been told art is the best way to end up starving on the street.”

“For some,” he allows. “There’s no way to know unless you try. Are you interested in my plan?”

“I am, but I kind of feel bad that you’re putting money into this. I can find free tutorials…”

“The man is loaded, let him live!” Liliana yells from somewhere in the house. She’s playing with the girls, I think in their playroom, and Jared is helping her keep them occupied.

“Very funny, but not wrong,” he says smugly. “Let me spoil you. The babies are more interested in blocks and the pots and pans they can bang in my kitchen.”

Giggling, I have to admit that he’s not wrong.

“Thank you,” I sigh. “Maybe it’ll help me not miss what I wish school was like for me.”

“Good, good,” he says happily. Ugh, what does it say about me that I’m just happy he is this excited to do something for me? “As for the gifts, it’s more than just words,” he says, lifting the large bag at his feet.

This man is bigger than life in a lot of ways, so I didn’t even notice it at first.

“Oh,” I murmur, opening the bag he places in my lap.

Inside, there are canvases, more charcoal which I’m desperately in need of because I’m down to a tiny piece. I didn’t want to ask for more, and I’ve been waiting to get my paycheck from the mystic shop so I could buy it myself. My eyes grow misty as I find he also included more graphite sticks, as well as graphite pencils.

Continuing to go through the bag, I find there is paint too.

“Paint?” I breathe.

“Yes,” he says. “The first class I’d like to buy you is a painting class. I was thinking you might enjoy another medium of creation.”

God, this man is too good.

“This is amazing,” I sniff, finding paint brushes inside as well. “Thank you so much!”

“So, you approve?” he asks.

“Very much so,” I say, moving the bag to the ground. “I love my gifts.”