I smirked. “If anyone’s my type, it’s your pop.” I was surprised he remembered that. “You finished that off by cracking Daddy jokes.”
Shan started coughing.
“Quit it!” Finn yelled. “No! This isn’t happening!”
“Finnegan!” Emilia mustered an impressive glare, despite that she was close to laughter, and pointed to the babies. “They scream at nothing. Please keep your voice down and continue telling me all about these Daddy jokes.”
“But I’m seeing things in my head,” he growled.
That was where I lost it. I cracked up, hard, and legit ran over to him and threw my arms around his shoulders. “You still love me, mate!”
“Let go of me,” he snapped. I didn’t let go of him. “You motherfucker, I was gonna go easy on you. I saw the photos in the bedroom and thought, well, he did bring my old man back from the dead. But now—” He got his frustration out by smacking me in the side, as if that would make me stop hugging him. “Emilia, make the images go away.”
She couldn’t. She was too busy giggling her ass off.
I grinned, incomprehensibly overjoyed, and looked at Shan over Finn’s shoulder.
He was smiling at me. “I told you,” he mouthed.
“I love you too,” I mouthed back.
He laughed.
“This is so weird,” Finn groaned.
I was there to comfort him. “It’s okay, son. Daddy’s got you.”
Oof. This was the ultimate, unshackled freedom, I thought, as I took a somewhat forceful punch to the ribs.
Ah, kids.