Page 225 of Love Redesigned


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“Thank you!” He rips at the red-and-white striped paper with glee before screaming.

“What is it?” Rafa leans forward to check out the tickets Nico keeps clutched in his iron grip.

My godson throws his arms around Dahlia’s neck and squeezes her until she is about to turn purple from lack of oxygen.

“Easy there.” I pull him away. “What did she get you?”

“Tickets to see Duke Brass in concert!”

“What?” my mom gasps.

“Whoa.” Lily gapes. “Way to make us all look bad.”

Shit. Those tickets are impossible to find. I tried to score a pair for Nico myself without any success.

Rafa’s eyes remain permanently wide. “How did you get those?”

Dahlia shrugs. “I know a guy.”

“What organ did you sell?”

“A nonvital one.”

I whisper in Dahlia’s ear, “You better be fucking joking.”

She doesn’t bat an eyelash. “We were born with two kidneys for a reason, Julian.”

“Dahlia.”

Her shoulders hike.

I glare at her.

She nudges me. “A light guy who worked on my show before is now part of the production crew for the tour, so I contacted him and begged for a pair.”

“Best gift ever!” Nico jumps around and waves his arms in the air.

Dahlia bats her lashes at me. “Aw. You could have been the bestpadrinoever, but no. I didn’t need your help.”

I press my lips against her ear and whisper, “Keep talking like that and I’ll make your ass match the wrapping paper you chose.”

Her face turns beet red, catching my mom’s attention as she snaps a photo of us.

“For the photo album!” My mom grins.

Padrino:Godfather.

Everyone continues to open their presents. Each time I pass one of mine out, Dahlia perks up, only to deflate with poorly concealed disappointment as I hand it to someone else.

It’s not until most of the gifts have been opened that she reaches under the tree and grabs a box with my name written on the tag. “Here. This one’s from me.”

“You got me something?”

Her cheeks turn pink. “Yes.”

I carefully undo the wrapping paper, taking my sweet time solely because I love Dahlia’s rare display of shyness.

“It’s not much,” she rambles when I fold the wrapping paper into a perfect recyclable square.

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