His Little Bird

Disappointment

Birdie's POV:

I skip around the living room, preening as I run my hands over the silk robe Ethan had got me what seems like a long time ago.

"Little Bird... you better start on dinner. If there isn't something on the table soon, I'll have no choice but to eat you..." Ethan taunts, mustering up the best stern look he can as he comes into the living room.

I ignore his empty threats, jumping into his arms.

"It's so perfect." And our house now fully a home, truly is.

Boxes still lay about the house, but our furniture finally in the appropriate place makes this place a home and not just a storage for our stuff.

"I unpacked the kitchen, so you could cook for Marisa and Mark. Go get your behind in the kitchen before I have to turn it red."

Red seems like such a nice color, but I doubt he'd actually do it, our playroom nowhere near unpacked.

"Do you think they will like it?" It's small, smaller than his old house, but it feels so much better to me, so much warmer. I like the old Victorian style much better than his sleek modern.

"The house or your cooking?"

I huff, as if anyone could not like my cooking.

"The house."

"I don't know why they wouldn't. You picked a very beautiful nest, Little Bird." I preen at his praise, knowing I really did. It's such a cozy little home, perfect for the small family we want.

"...Do you think it's weird they call me Brea sometimes?"

He doesn't answer for a moment, taking a seat at the island as I start to cook for our little dinner party tonight.

My parents came over last night with Weston and the kids, so it will only be Marisa and Mark, but I am still nervous and when I'm nervous, I over think.

"I think to them you have and always will be Brea in their mind. They make a conscious effort to call you Birdie, but you're their daughter and they named you Brea, so sometimes it slips out."

"Brea is a pretty name."

He shifts, not saying anything for a moment. I glance up at him to find him already analyzing me.

"It is... Do you like being called Brea?"

I think for a moment. It really is a tough question to answer. Since I can remember, I've been Birdie, but now that I know Brea is my name, neither name feels quite as right as it should.

"I think Brea is pretty. It sounds sophisticated and—"

"It's becoming of you."

I smile bashfully. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course, Little Bird."

Little Bird, now that is a name that still felt right and whole to me.

"I don't think I'd want to change my name, but I kind of like being called Brea. It kind of makes me feel like I have two personalities, Birdie and Brea," I giggle.

He smiles and puts his chins in his hand, watching me happily.

"So your parents call you Birdie and you're birth parents call you Brea and I call you..."