“That’s your choice, and I respect it.” She smirks and then starts rimming her ice cream again…while moaning.

“Stop that.”

She laughs and leans deeper into my chest.

“In all seriousness, this is really good.”

“I know,” I say as I take a bite, the flavor bringing me back to summer Fridays when we’d eat ice cream out on the porch and bird-watch with my dad. “God, I haven’t had this in a while. It’s reminding me of my dad.”

“Do you want to talk about him?” she asks. “What kind of guy was he?”

“He was a great guy,” I say, thinking back to when he was around…and mentally present. “He was a jokester, always teasing me and Mika. He was infatuated with our mom, treated her like she was a queen. He would stand up for what was right and never partook in what was wrong. He made sure that Mika and I had the same morals. He loved being outdoors and bird-watching. That’s where I found a love for it.”

“He sounds very familiar,” she says as she leans back and kisses my neck.

I squeeze her tighter. “Yeah, I look like him too. Same eyes. Same hair. Same bone structure. Almost a copy-and-paste situation. But he spent a lot of time with me and Mika. He loved being a dad. Every weekend, we could count on him doing something with us, whether it was hiking, playing in the backyard, or taking us to a movie. There was always something.”

“I love that. You must have the best memories with him.”

“I do,” I say softly. “I think his later days sometimes outweigh those earlier memories, because when he was in a wheelchair, it was really hard. We were all sort of caregivers for him, especially when Mom wasn’t home. Those days were difficult. I remember this one time though, maybe a month or so before he passed, it was a cool summer day, Mom was at work, and Mika was with friends. I took my dad outside and set up a blanket in the backyard with pillows. I took him out of his wheelchair and propped him up so he could see the trees, and then I held binoculars up to his eyes, and we bird-watched. I told him all the birds we were seeing and recited everything he told me growing up. He had vocal cord paralysis as well, so he couldn’t talk with us, but that day, he looked me in the eyes, and he cried.” I shake my head, remembering that moment. “I knew he was telling me he was proud in that moment.”

Scottie lifts up and turns toward me. “God, Wilder.” She presses her hand to her heart. “That…that makes me so sad.”