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“Okay, maybe get your nose checked.” Rowan gives me a quizzical look. “Well, come in. What are you doing here? Ruby is in the guest bedroom. I don’t know if she’s up for company or not. Birthdays are just weird for her.”
“I know. I won’t stay long.”
I walk into their kitchen and set down the cake box, and my briefcase, on the butcher block counter.
Mason wanders into the kitchen and nods at me. “Hey, bro. What are you doing here?” He high-fives me in greeting.
“I came to drop off a cake for Ruby’s birthday,” I say. Mason glances at Rowan. “Is that a good idea?” he asks her.
I sigh. “Listen, I know that she doesn’t love celebrating her birthday, but I also didn’t want to completely ignore it. I promise not to make a big deal. I will not joke around or be goofy or loud or anything like that.”
Mason pretends to feel my forehead for a temperature. “Is it really you, or is it your evil twin?” he asks.
I nod. “Evil twin. You got me. I just escaped from Paxton’s basement and I’m here to wreak havoc.”
“What’s all this about wreaking havoc?” Ruby walks through the door, her hair adorably tousled, wearing a bathrobe and slippers. “Also, is something burning?”
“Arggh,” I groan.
“Told you so,” Rowan says smugly.
“Okay, fine. I made you a cake,” I tell Ruby, pointing at the cake box. “Well, I put together ingredients and put them in the oven. I turned the oven on and let it bake. For a little too long.”
Rowan and Mason exchange amused glances.
“Just a little,” Mason says, holding his finger and thumb up an inch apart. “Just an hour or two.” I growl in response.
“Did he just growl at me?” Mason asks her. “Or was that Puck?”
“Well, Puck is in the other room, so...” She smiles cheerfully.
“Hey! I baked a cake from scratch. It’s the thought that counts,” I say stiffly.
“Sure, sure,” Rowan says. “It’s just, what were you actually thinking?” She takes the box from me and sets it on the center kitchen island. “I’ll get some plates and a knife. And a fire extinguisher.” She walks over to the cabinets.
“Everyone’s a comedienne,” grumble. “Dick Oliver did a much better job of roasting me.”
“Dick what?” Mason stares at me in confusion.
“Never mind,” I sigh.
I go over to Ruby, who manages a half smile. “That was very thoughtful,” she says.
Her eyes look red, as if she’s been crying.
I feel a twinge of dismay. “Should I not have come?” I ask. “I would have felt really bad if I didn’t do anything for your birthday.”
“It was nice of you to come.” Her gaze drops. “I’m sorry I’m being weird. I know I’m a grown-ass woman. I should be able to handle my own birthday.”
“Nothing to be sorry about at all,” I say. “We all have our things. Every time I hear the words Heisman Trophy, I get queasy.” I’m not lying, either. I’ve been known to barf.
“And now, for the unboxing,” Rowan cries out dramatically.
We all gather around the cake box.
“It got jolted in the taxi on the way here,” I say, suddenly nervous. “And then Puck jumped on me.”
“Yeah, blame it on my dog,” huffs Mason, who is very protective of his furry child.
