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“I’m so sorry I’m late. Did I miss anything?” Rebellion sounds stressed. She told me she was going to be a little bit late. She borrowed my truck and took a commissioned painting to a client in town.
“Only all of it,” I tease her, and she rolls her eyes.
“Very funny.”
“Not too much. They’ve been playing games, just started opening presents, and just begun cutting the cake. I told Dion we picked a name for the baby,” Dad tells her.
“Oooh, what’s that?”
“Roslyn. Jo and I are going to call her Ros for short.”
“That’s a badass name. I don’t think I know anyone named Ros.”
I stare at my woman in awe. Sometimes I wonder if she’s a fucking mind reader, but she’s just that good.
Rebellion isn’t just my present. She’s my future. She’s the person I want to see at the end of my life. She’s the last person I want to see when my time is up. I want her to raise our children and to watch every dream she ever has come to life.
She is my forever.
