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My father always said birthday parties were for girls and pussies. Well, this party might be for a girl, but I’m going to make damn sure that it’s one she remembers forever.
Dad can go fuck himself.
It’s Violet’s first birthday. Or, what we’re making Violet’s first birthday, since her mother didn’t exactly give me a date, just a rough estimation of how old she was. Olivia and I went the whole nine yards. Streamers and balloons, a massive sheet cake that could feed an elephant, and presents as far as the eye could see.
Dante and Marcus were obviously invited, and so was Olivia’s friend, Quinn. Despite the reservations I know her mother has about me, even Lisa came. She’s made good company for Grams as they stand around swapping motherly war stories with each other.
And then there’s Olivia. A vision in a green sundress she picked out because she said it matches my eyes. She looks perfect in it. She’s been living here for two months—officially. No more apartment, no more hedging, no more hiding or secrets or fear or unspoken hope. We are together, in every sense of the word.
I couldn’t be happier.
As if sensing the sentimentality turning my blood into sugar, she saunters over to me. Violet is perched on her hip, and I can’t imagine a better sight to behold than this. My daughter and my girl, two peas in a pod.
“Well, you’re looking like you have something on your mind, Mister,” she remarks, leaning up to peck me on the cheek.
“Only you,” I say. And as if to protest being left out, Violet lets out a loud squeal. “And you, too, my little flower. I can’t possibly forget you.”
Olivia smiles. Her warmth radiates off of her, and she chuckles. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she warns playfully.
“Don’t I know it. I had to work for the pretty little things I got right now.”
Olivia rolls her eyes, but her smile never diminishes. “Hey… so remember when you said that I could take as much time as I wanted, trying to figure out what I wanted to do next?”
I nod. We’d had the conversation shortly after that disaster of a final game. She couldn’t go back to work as a nanny, that much was certain. But Olivia couldn’t just sit and do nothing.
“Well,” she continues, “with some of the money I have saved, I was thinking about starting up something for myself.”
I tilt my head. “Like a company?”
“Oh, no,” she shakes her head with a laugh. “Nothing like that. It’s uh… well, it might be a little silly.”
I nudge her. “What is it? Go on.”
“I was actually thinking about starting a blog. Like, an advice column, for parents, or nannies, or people just confused about kids in general. I can’t go back to nannying, but I don’t want to leave the passion behind. And, well… since I’m gonna be here for a while, it’s the perfect thing to do so that I can still be here for Violet, isn’t it?”
I stare at her, marveling.
But she shrinks away. “Oh, it’s a bad idea, isn’t it? I mean, it’s kinda cringey, too. Who runs a blog these days anyway?—”
I silence her with kisses. “It’s a perfect idea,” I say when I reluctantly let her go. “You’ve got my support, one hundred percent.”
A shy grin spreads across her face. She leans in to kiss me, but before our lips meet again, a voice calls over to me. “Yo, Reese. You got someone at the door. She ain’t taking ‘Scram’ for an answer.”
I look over where Dante stands at the mouth of the foyer. His face is full of confusion. I exchange a look with Olivia and shrug before trotting over.
Outside on the stoop is a slender woman with copper hair. The length of it is pinned back, loose curls framing a heart-shaped face. She looks familiar. But I can’t pin where I’ve seen her before.
“Hey, listen, I dunno what you need, but this is a private shindig. Gonna have to pop back some other time?—”
“I don’t think that’ll be happening,” the woman interrupts, her voice smooth and ominous. “After all, it’s a bit rude to turn away your wife at her own daughter’s birthday, isn’t it?”
