Show Me

10.

"How many things with unicorns can they possibly make?" Bradley sifted through the bags he had brought to Stefani's the evening before Lea's birthday. She was sleeping over Gloria's and they planned to go over in the morning to surprise her with breakfast and presents. It served a two-fold purpose; to include her in the celebration and to introduce her privately to his mother.

"You'd be surprised," she laughed, taking out an ostentatious unicorn-shaped pinata."B, you do realize that this and five kids under five is a recipe for disaster, right?"

He hadn't and he shrugged helplessly. "I just typed "unicorn birthday" into the search bar and ordered whatever Amazon had." Sighing, he took more decorations out of the bag and set them down. "Her first two parties were so much easier. When she turned one, she had no clue and I was so exhausted from everything that had gone on that I just baked a cake from a boxed-mix, took off her clothes, and let her make a huge mess. Last year, she was into princesses, so we had lunch with Sleeping Beauty at Disneyland with my mom. Now, she has friends and she wants a theme and I have a headache."

"Oh, go on and laugh at me," he grumbled good-naturedly, responding to her giggle. "I have no idea what I'm doing and we both know it."

"Hey," Stefani pushed aside a small hill of napkins to sit next to him on the sofa. "You are an amazing father, doing this for her. And she's going to absolutely love it. You do know you're the cutest thing on the face on the earth, don't you?" She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him. "Lea wouldn't care if you blew up a couple of balloons and bought a bunch of cupcakes from the grocery store. You're doing this for her and you're doing most of it yourself, because you wanted to, because you love her."

He reciprocated her affection, sighing when she let her fingers catch up in the ends of his hair. "Hope I don't screw it up."

There was an awareness--that his level of self-deprecation was too much for people, even for his own mother at times, so he tried to keep his insecurities to himself for the most part. He could say, with some degree of certainty, he was a good father, a good son, someone who tried to be a loyal friend, and an overall decent human, but the only place he was completely confident in was the kitchen. Pressure usually set him on edge anywhere else except when he was in his element. There, the adrenaline lit a fire under him, ramped him up. When he cooked, he didn't disappoint anyone.

As he looked at her, taking her into his arms, a single glance into her eyes confirmed that not only did she understand where he was coming from, she didn't feel he was a disappointment. Without having to speak the words, she was gently stroking his back, her touch soothing. It was a phenomenon that happened repeatedly with them; where they could express themselves through their actions alone and at first, it had been startling but now, now he could not remember a time without it.

You said I was healing you, he wanted to tell her, the words sticking to the base of his throat. But it's you that's healing my heart.

"You won't." Her lips rested on his shoulder, "not even close, Bradley."

It occurred to him that they weren't just speaking about the party; that it was about the bigger picture and her reassurance brought him peace. He never asked her for any, never wanted to burden her with the weight he still heavily carried.

But she seemed to sense when he craved it anyway and she wasn't shy about giving it in droves, consistently reminding him how much she cared, with what she said and with the million tiny subtle ways that spoke volumes on their own.

"What are you thinking?" She murmured, kneading the tension she felt in his neck and the very tops of his shoulders.

"That I'm ridiculously lucky that you're in my life."