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Not the over-the-top decorations or the fact that my siblings had joined together to buy my daughter a horse, even though Sally had been moved over to our barn and had been officially given to Gracie by her new grandparents.
What little girl needed a second horse?
No, it wasn’t that. Nor was it that Presley and Gracie had ordered some sort of plaid rodeo top for Bob Picklepants, who spent the entire party lying out in the field with all that chaos moving around him, or the weird pink tutu that our giant pig, Maxine, was sporting at the party.
It was seeing Gracie’s hand tucked inside my wife’s hand.
It was seeing the way Presley’s honey-brown eyes watched my daughter do the simplest things, like playing in the garden or painting.
It was catching them during bath time, talking about horses and ravens.
It was Sunday night dinners with everyone I loved most in the world laughing and talking and having a good time.
My father came up to stand beside me as I watched Presley and Gracie pass out slices of cake to everyone.
“You all right? You look a little… unlike yourself,” Dad said.
“This is the new Cage. He’s kinder and gentler,” Hugh said, as he came up behind me and slapped me on the back.
“Nah. I think he’s menstruating again. He gets all quiet and emotional every time his wife and daughter are in the room,” Finn said, and he barked out a laugh and stood beside me.
“Oh, did you get my message that I needed to borrow some of your tampons, you pussy whipped motherfucker?” I hissed.
More laughter.
“You boys have a sick way of being happy,” my father said as he shook his head and made his way toward my mom, who was waving him over to come dance with his granddaughter.
“You do look happy, brother.” Finn bumped me with his shoulder.
“Yeah. I’m pretty fucking happy. You sappy bastards don’t look too bad yourselves.”
“You’ve been a little quiet today.” Finn turned his attention to Hugh. “I see the way you and Lila keep looking at one another with this suspicious smile on your faces.”
“We aren’t going to announce it until Sunday dinner, but I’ll tell you two if you can manage to keep a fucking secret for a few days.”
“He’s clearly talking to you because we know I can keep a secret,” I said. “My nickname growing up wasn’t ‘loose lips Reynolds’.” I smirked at Finn, who found the made-up nickname hilarious.
“What’s going on?” he asked Hugh.
“Lila’s pregnant. We’ve been trying for a while, and she took a test this morning.”
I wrapped an arm around him and shook him a little bit. “Atta boy. Congratulations, brother.”
Finn did the same thing, and we both promised not to say a word until they announced it.
I tipped the can of beer to my lips, and my chest squeezed.
This must be what it feels like to be chronically happy.
Speaking of chronically happy… Georgia came bounding up to us with a scowling Brinkley behind her.
“Who shit in your cornflakes?” I asked Brinkley.
“Oh, I don’t know. I guessinjusticeshit in my cornflakes,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “That little punk kid over there just tripped me during the potato sack game. I was going for gold, and he stuck his foot out and took me out.”
I glanced over to where she was pointing and laughed so loud they all startled. “That’s Preston. The little shit is always up to no good, but I didn’t think he was smart enough to take you down, Brinks.”
“You do realize we’re talking about a six-year-old, right?” Georgia asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
