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Frankie glares at me while she rubs a hand under her nose before walking away toward our cars.
“What else is in the bag?” I call out, peering inside. There are two boxes shoved on top, a bottle of red wine, a brand new pair of socks, and a plastic container with three cupcakes left inside. Hang on.
“Is it your birthday? Are you fucking kidding me?” I jog to catch up to her, grabbing her elbow to stop her ascending the stairs ahead of me. “It’s your birthday, and you didn’t tell me? What kind of boyfriend wouldn’t know it’s your birthday?”
“Fake boyfriend,” she whispers before turning and starting up the stairs.
“Hang on.” I grab her by the waist to stop her going any further. “I know. That’s not what I meant. I just….” I stop and scrub my hand over my face, pulling on my beard. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday? Is that why Raj and Manesh gave me a dirty look when you guys went out to lunch?”
Two steps up, Frankie is almost at eye level with me. She sighs, shoulders drooping. “My birthday is on Sunday. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel obligated to do something, and I definitely didn’t want to make a fuss at work.”
I jiggle the bag on my elbow. “Looks like people made a fuss, anyway.”
“Yeah. Jodi apparently sent everyone on the dev team an email last week.” She turns and climbs a few more steps, leaving me gaping. Who doesn’t enjoy celebrating their birthday? And why wouldn’t she want a fuss made at work?
I take the stairs two at a time to catch up to her. “So Raj and Manesh took you to lunch. I assume Jodi got the cupcakes. Who gave you the gifts?”
“Raj and Manesh. Well, Peter, Mark, and Jodi got me a plant, but I left it in my office.” She doesn’t look back at me, and irrational irritation bubbles up in my gut.
“But why didn’t you tell me?”
“I told you—my real birthday isn’t until Sunday.”
“Don’t you think Derek or someone would assume we were planning something special? What if one of them had asked me? I would have looked like a chump,” I counter, my tone harsher than I intend.
Frankie shrugs as we emerge from the stairwell. “Maybe? I didn’t think about it, Julian. I didn’t want to make a big deal. It’s just a birthday.”
She’s killing me. I love birthdays. I love celebrating birthdays. If we were dating for real I would have been planning something big, no matter what. I’d probably have an entire weekend planned, complete with cake, steak, and, if I’m being honest, a lot of birthday sex.
Birthday sex is almost as good as make-up sex, in my book.
Fuck, now I’ve got birthday sex on the brain. Following Frankie up these stairs is not helping, the sway of her hips tantalizingly close.
We’re walking toward our cars when movement near them catches my eye. Her car is tucked behind mine, blocking my view. I go on alert, snagging her elbow and pulling her to a stop a few feet away from the cars.
“Who’s there?” I call out as I tug her behind me. “Stay here,” I whisper, but it doesn’t matter. A man steps out from between our vehicles, a bouquet in his hand.
“Derek?” Frankie’s voice shakes as she peers out from behind me.
The reason behind this whole charade glares at me before turning his megawatt smile on Frankie. “Hey. I just wanted to wish you a more personal happy birthday. I was hoping to catch you alone, but I guess Julian wouldn’t like that.”
I growl, surprising myself. “Damn straight. What do you—?”
Frankie lays a hand on my arm, cutting off my words. “Thanks, Derek. Like I said this morning, I didn’t want anyone to make a big deal. Twenty-seven isn’t a special birthday or anything. The cupcakes were more than enough.”
Derek closes the distance between us, his shoulder slamming into mine as he crowds Frankie. I’m not prepared for it, and it knocks me back a few steps, pissing me off. “Cupcakes from the grocery store? That’s not nearly good enough for you.”
Regaining my balance, I miss the next thing he says, but I don’t miss Frankie’s reaction to it. Her eyes are wide, and she’s stepping away from Derek, the flowers he’d brought clutched in her hands.
“Thanks. Um. Julian and I were just going to dinner. Right?” Finally, she looks at me and there’s fear lurking in her emerald depths. Her knuckles are white where she holds the bouquet, and her chest is heaving. It’s barely perceptible beneath her coat and sweater, but I’ve spent so much time studying the way she reacts to fear in the last few weeks that it’s obvious to me.
Feigning nonchalance, I set Frankie’s bag down and move to her side, draping my arm across her shoulder. “Yup. I have all the fixings at my place.”
“You’re cooking? Not going to take her out to celebrate? I guess you probably can’t afford to take her somewhere nice.”
Before I can say anything, Frankie makes a noise. “Did you need something else, Derek?”
He shakes his head, eyes darting between us. “Uh, no. That’s it. I didn’t want to give you the flowers in the office—wouldn’t want everyone else getting ideas, right?”
