He set the bag in my palms, and there was zero finesse to the way I tore that thing open, flinging tissue paper in the air. The bag split down the middle when I shoved my eager hand inside and found… “fireworks?”
There were tubes of them, lining the bag in a careful pattern. I pulled them out one by one and placed them on the edge of my desk.
Daddy observed me with a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eye that spelled mayhem.
My brows furrowed. “I don’t…”
Ohmygod.
My mouth fell open. He laughed.
“Daddy, did you… turn my father into fireworks?”
Ohmygod.
“What do you say, baby bird? Want to go make some sparks?”
Best. Valentine’s Day. Ever.