Skyler dashed downstairs in one breath.
“What is it this time? You sound like a banshee!” Alaina glanced over at Skyler.
Panting hard, Skyler struggled to get the words out. “Ms. Sylvester, do I… do I have a childhood nickname?”
“Of course you do.” Alaina nodded matter-of-factly.
Skyler froze. Wait, seriously?
Swallowing nervously, he pressed on, “So… what is it?”
Please, God. Not Donkey. Anything but Donkey…
Alaina didn’t hesitate. “Donkey.”
Skyler’s mind went blank. He tried to play it off, forcing a smile. “You’re joking, right? You must be. Did Uncle Gordon message you something dumb on WhatsApp?”
Justice turned to his son with a straight face. “You really were called that—at least until you turned three.”
It was only after his third birthday that everyone stopped, which explained why Skyler had no memory of it.
Skyler knew his father never lied to him. Hearing Justice confirm it, he was on the verge of tears.
“Ms. Sylvester, Mr. Cumming! Am I really your flesh and blood? Uncle’s name might not be the coolest, but at least it’s a real name! Why did I end up as… Donkey?”
If word ever got out, how was he supposed to show his face in public again?
At first, he’d thought Gordon was just messing with him. But this—this was real.
Alaina just shrugged. “Don’t blame me. Blame your grandmother. When you were born, she insisted boys needed rough nicknames to grow up strong. She insisted on Donkey.”
The Cumming family matriarch was old-fashioned, a stickler for tradition. That’s why, the moment Skyler was born, she’d picked out the least dignified nickname she could think of.
Skyler looked at his mother in disbelief. “And you didn’t stop her? Am I really your son?”

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