« Eight hundred fifty dollars, Mom. That’s the number. »
I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose. He’d thought about this. He’d actually done the math, found a buyer, arranged the purchase — all without a single adult holding his hand.
« Are you mad at me? » he asked quietly.
I looked at him for a long moment before answering. « I’m shocked. I’m proud of you. And yes, I’m also a little angry that you didn’t come to me first. »
He nodded fast. « That’s fair. »
I held my arms open, and he crossed the room in two steps and folded into me, all knees and elbows the way thirteen-year-old boys do. I held on tight and felt the anger drain out of me, replaced by something heavier and warmer that I didn’t have a name for yet.
« You’re too much like your father, » I murmured into his hair.
He pulled back, eyebrows raised. « Good or bad? »
« Today? Expensive, inconvenient, and completely wonderful. »
That got a laugh out of him.
