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"Why not?" Mattie furrows his brow. "It seems perfect for them."
Ooooookay. Mattie and I have reached our first generational difference.
"Killers watch crime specials. Judge shows. Fiery cooking competitions with lots of screaming."
Mattie squeaks as he hugs me. "I'll take your word for it."
I snort. "I pinky promise you they would've killed me if they'd known I watchedMean Girlson my contraband laptop when they were in the yard doing push-ups. Lots of the men hook up with each other, but they're not keen on forthright displays of LGBTQ+ positivity."
Mattie slumps on my chest. "You’re teaching me things."
Damn right I am.
I rub his chin. "That’s what Daddies are for. We teach our boys the ways of the world—how to act. How to be polite. How to survive in prison."
"I’m grateful." Mattie adjusts his grip on Cloudy. "My parents weren’t really present growing up—that’s one way of putting it. There's a lot I don't know."
It all makes sense now.
"Thereisa case to be made thatMean Girlsis offensive," I drawl. "I’m not saying there’s not. But sunflower, that’s kind of the point. None of the characters are good people. They go through agrowth journey.A characterarc.That’s how stories are told. No one is perfect right off the bat. How boring would that be?"
Mattie nods. "I get your point." He crooks a brow. "So, you swear you didn't learn about this movie in prison?"
My eyes slit. "Prisoners don't watchMean Girls."
Mattie snickers. "Whatever."
"You have zero clue how the world works, sunflower. That’s okay—you’re young."
"Don't patronize me."
"Daddy will teach you about life," I soothe, kissing his forehead. "These relationships aren’t simply about playtime and love. They’re to help yougrow."
"What if we finish the movie and I don't like it?"
"Then I’m blocking you," I drawl. "Never speak to me again."
He glares at me. "Seriously."
"I’m kidding. There’s nothing wrong with that. Two people don't have to agree oneverything—and they can still love each other."
Mattie squeezes my hand. "I appreciate you saying that. Growing up, one of my worst memories was of my father refusing to let my mother think differently."
I furrow my brow. "Really?"
"He’d flip a lid if she said something he disagreed with. To him, there was a right way and a wrong way—if you disagreed, you were out. It was toxic. Abusive. She grew afraid to say anything that he wouldn’t accept."
I grit my teeth. "That’s horrendous."
"I’ve been afraid of expressing myself in the past," Mattie admits. "I don't want to walk on eggshells."
I hardly think having a different opinion onMean Girlsconstitutes walking on eggshells, but whatever.
Leaning in, I peck his cheek. "I’m so glad you told me that. Guess what, sunflower—that’s why I’m crazy about you."
His eyes tick up. "Really?"
I nod. "You’ve communicated your needs since the beginning of our time together. It makes me feel happy. You can tell me what’s on your mind. No bullshit. No sugar-coating."
