90 Bronson

I look over at Nikki whose eyes continuously travel from me to the book I hold firm in my grasp. I know what this is, I know what this means, but I don’t exactly know how she acquired it. Like the little mind reader Nikki is, she reads me well and answer my nonverbal question.

“Your mom helped with most of it, and Anderson filled in the rest. Your family wanted you to have a piece of the remaining parts of their life that you missed out on. Your father…. he wrote something on the inside. I didn’t look, I think that’s something you should read alone, but if you want, I can be here when you do.”

Her voice sounds so distance, so lost, and I know she is wondering if she made the right decision with this gift. I lean forward and kiss her soft lips, then smile. “This is perfect Nikki. Thank you.”