In the aftermath of her twin sister's tragic death, Reagan Sinclair finds herself in a never-ending battle against paralyzing panic attacks and drowning in grief. Desperate to just survive each day, Reagan's world is turned upside down when Paris un...
Paris: I'm on my way over. Tell Gracie that her favorite uncle has a surprise for her.
Milan: You're her only uncle, Paris.
Paris: Doesn't make it any less true.
Milan: It better be something big. She's expensive like that.
Paris: I wonder where she gets it from
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“UNCLE PARIS!”GRACIE SCREAMS the second I step through the door, although I'm positive, she doesn't see me behind the giant teddy bear I have in front of me. She launches her tiny body at my legs and gives both me and the brown teddy bear a hug.
“Hey kiddo, Uncle Paris missed you a bunch,” I say, untangling her from my legs, so I can lean the bear against the wall and lift her in my arms.
“I missed you like the Ocean!”
“I missed you like ten oceans,”
“Is that bear for me?” she asks, pulling away to bat her eyelashes at me.
“Sure is,” she scrambles out of my arms, grabs the bear around its neck, and drags it into the kitchen shouting-
“Mommy, mommy, look what Uncle Paris got me!” I follow her into the kitchen, where Milan is kneading dough and listening to Christmas music, her thick black hair tied behind her neck.
“He's gorgeous, baby, but did you say thank you to Uncle Paris?” Gracie's eyes widen, and She turns to face me with a cute little bashful look.
“Thank you, Uncle Paris,” she singsongs.
“Why don't you go introduce your new teddy to your old ones?” Milan suggests.
“And my Barbies too!” Gracie shouts, running to her room and dragging the bear with her.
“That should buy us at least half an hour,” Milan says, putting the dough to set and washing her hands in the sink. I pull out a stool and take a seat, and Milan does the same. The apartment looks good, better than when I lived here. Less like a bachelor pad and more like a home.
"What's with the Christmas music, Lanny?"
“Don't judge me, it's cold out. And I never got to enjoy last Christmas,” I scowl at the reminder of her shit stain of an ex-husband and decide to change the subject for both of our sake.
“The place looks nice,”
"You don't mind, do you? Because if you do I can always ch-”
“Don't be dumb, it's fine. Looks better than how I had it,” she throws a kitchen towel at my face and I move to the side as it sails over my shoulder.
“I'm not dumb, you're dumb,”
“Says the girl who thought Abraham Lincoln was the first black President because he's brown on the penny,”
