“I’ve decided to drip feed.”

The creasing of her brows is seriously cramping my vibe.

“I want to see each of your reactions.” I wink, attempting to lighten the mood.

She bites her lip and looks up at me from her lowered lashes like she’s too scared to say what she wants. Which is completely fucked up by my standards. I like Bella whichever way she comes, but I like the real Bella the most.

And Jesus, do I want to kiss her.

“First up,” I say as I stick my hand down into the ripped paper bag and pull out a book. Rejected by the Alpha. She stares at the book, then me, then back at the book with so much bewilderment that I might as well have pulled out a gun.

Jerking forward, she goes to snatch it, but I hold it out of her reach. Bella looks around with frantic eyes before scrambling for me to grab the book.

“Down, Mouse,” I tease, putting two fingers on her forehead and gently pushing her back.

This wasn’t the reaction I was expecting, but I ain’t mad about it. She keeps glancing around like someone might see.

“Remember the day before you left, when we went to the bookstore?” With each passing second, her skin glows redder and redder. I cock my head. Why is she so flustered about the fact I got it for her? She picked it off the shelf, read the back, then checked how much she had in her wallet. Then promptly put it back. “I’ve held on to it since then.”

“You…” She’s completely beet red as she blinks a couple more times at my outstretched hand. Bella clears her throat and sits up straighter. “You can’t afford it.”

“Money can’t buy everything.”

Translation: I stole it.

My lips stretch into a grin. “But I’ll give this to you on one condition?”

“What?”

Her breath hitches, and she leans forward slightly, looking around again like someone might catch us doing something illegal.

“You read it to me.”

She blanches, completely mortified, before turning redder than she was before. Whipping her head around, she spots the only person in earshot—one person with headphones—and then she covers the side of her mouth like the guy might hear, and she squeals, “That’s an R18 book.”

Oh. Oh, this is too good. I tsk and lean back against the bench. “Unrestricted access to written porn will ruin you, kid.”

Naughty, naughty girl.

To a bystander, it probably looks like we’re dealing drugs with how quickly she snatches the book from me and shoves it into her bag.

“Thank you,” she says under her breath. An adorable wrinkle forms along the bridge of her nose.

I chuckle and take it as my cue to move on to the next gift—something that won’t get her so wound up: a heart-shaped locket. There are a bunch of random ass swirls on the outside, and I know she’ll swoon over how “pretty” and “delicate” it is. Which is why the necklace is perfect for her.

“How did you afford—Who does this belong to, Mickey?”

“You.”

“Roman,” she warns.

I wince internally. She’d never wear something special that belonged to someone else, and I only have so much adult money—but my latest extra-curricular activities have changed that. I don’t make much, but the very first thing I bought was that necklace. I mean, it also meant that I had to skip a few meals, but it was worth it for her.

I’m not the best with my hands—not in the way that I want in this situation. I have my drawings, and Bella has her bracelets and anything else she puts her mind to, but it’s not enough.

Bella is sentimental, and I want to give her something that will withstand beating a window or running away from the cops—if she ever needed to. If we’re ever separated, a part of me will always be with her, around her neck and near her heart.

Though nothing will ever separate us. If she hasn’t realized it by now, she’s in for a surprise.

“I saved money.” Not a lie, but I’m not ready to tell Bella the whole truth just yet.

“Roman—"

“I promise you, no one has ever worn it but you. Now shut up and turn around.”

She doesn’t listen. Of course, she doesn’t listen. She narrows her eyes, completely disbelieving. “When did you get this?”

“Like, six months ago.” 163 days ago, to be precise.

Her shoulders sag a fraction. “But you didn’t even know if I was coming back.”

“I knew. Now, turn around. Put it on.”

She gingerly takes the necklace from me, and I admit, I almost keep it out of her reach. I should be the one to put it on her. Bella fiddles with the clasp, and my stomach drops. I wanted it to be perfect, and this is less than that. She deserves so much more than the shit I put inside the locket.

All my worries and concerns that she would frown at how terrible it is, vanishes when her lips curve into a smile, and a soft little giggle leaves her.

She runs her finger over the right side of the locket, where there’s a picture of Mickey Mouse that I cut out from a magazine. On the left, in small handwriting, it says “Roman (aka the real Mickey).” This way, it isn’t just me who’s kept close to her heart, it’s her mother, too.

Bella’s obsession with Mickey Mouse started because of her mamá, but she never managed to find any photos of her, just like there aren’t any (non-government taken) photos of me.

“Mickey,” she breathes as she looks up at me, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “This is beautiful.”

“I know.”

Her warm smile doesn’t disappear when she rolls her eyes or when she hands me the necklace to secure around her neck.

Before she can turn around, I have the next gift out of the bag. A—you guessed it—Mickey Mouse keychain. Honestly, there’s this weird trend with Mickey Mouse going on, but I couldn’t give a shit as long as it puts a smile on her face. I have no memories outside of Bella that I want to keep alive. Still, I will do everything I can to make sure her happiness is immortalized, even if that means having an excessive amount of Mickey Mouse stickers all over both of our things so she’s taken back to Disneyland with her mamá.

Bella claims she’s sick of the thing, but it doesn’t stop her from pausing whenever she sees that damn mouse like she is now.

Our kids will probably be just as obsessed with the rodent.

“My birthday was, like, months ago.” The absolute attitude dripping from her voice right now is uncalled for. She’s still a part-time brat, I see.

I cock a brow. “Your point?”

“You didn’t know if I was coming—"

“I did.”

“I can’t accept all of this.”

“Who said you had the option not to?” The urge to groan and shake my head in disbelief is real. She does this every time: pretending that her moral compass is in the way of taking something I’ve gotten specifically for her, even though I can practically smell how much she wants to get her hands on it.

“I do.”

“Signore aiutami con questa.” Lord, help me with this one. “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the way that will have you all squirmy. Take the goddamn keychain.”

She glares at me as she takes the keychain and clips it on her bag, grumbling, “I haven’t liked Mickey Mouse in a long time.”

“I’m sure you don’t, but I don’t make the rules.”

Tradition is tradition. Every year that has passed and that will come, she’ll be getting a Mickey Mouse item. No ifs, ands, or buts.

“Last one,” I say. And thankfully, it has nothing to do with the big-eared rodent.

A little wrinkle forms between her brows as they dip, taking the orange stuffed animal from me. “Foxes aren’t my favorite animal anymore.”

Of course, they aren’t. It changes every year. Last year it was a fox. The year before, magpies. The year before that, wolves. “What is it this time?”

“Bears.”

“That’s gonna have to change. I’m here, and you aren’t going to be a solitary creature.”