Page 202 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

"Yeah?"

"I've got a project I'm working on. Thought I could bring some of it with me."

"What kind of project?"

"Design project for one of my engineering classes. We're building a prototype."

"You need the lab?"

"For some of it."

"Bring the rest."

There's a pause.

"To Oakridge?"

"Why not? Maybe I can help."

"You know mechanical engineering?"

"I know how things work."

"That sounds suspiciously like a no."

"Bring it."

He laughs.

"Okay."

"And if I can't help, I'll feed you."

"That I believe."

"Smart kid."

"I'll let you know what time I'm coming."

"Whenever you get here."

A beat passes.

"See you, Dad."

"See you, Diego."

The call ends. I look at the phone for a second before putting it down. There was a time when hearing from my son would've changed the shape of an entire week. Now he calls because he's coming to spend the weekend. I'm still getting used to ordinary miracles.

The next afternoon, I come home to find a green notice beside my door. We missed you. Package requiring pickup. International. France.

I turn the notice over. There aren't many people in France who would send me anything.

Thursday morning, I stop at the post office before heading to the farm. The package is small, the handwriting familiar enough that I recognize it before I reach my truck. My aunt.

I set the box on the passenger seat. It stays on my kitchen table until that evening. Then curiosity wins.

I cut through the tape. Inside is a letter, and a small velvet box.