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“You’ll have next year and every year after—or at least until Lily puts a stop to it. I promise.”
Aspen’s face brightens. “Really?” she asks, and I realize we’ve never really discussed what’s going to happen down the line. I raise her hands to my lips.
“Really.”
She settles back against the chair and stares up at the melting afternoon. The air has turned cooler with the evenings, but it’s still beautiful outside, made even more so by Aspen’s presence.
“Can anyone join this party?” Caden quips, opening the back door.
“Papa Caden! Look what I can do!” Lily hollers from the top of her playhouse.
“Oh, I’m looking, Lilbug! I’m looking hard!” Caden promises. His face has healed up nicely from his accident, but there’s still an edge to him. Those early mornings he was so diligent about working before suddenly evaporated, and he is back to sleeping in and scheduling fewer appointments.
“Where’s Pike? It’s such a lovely evening. Let’s all enjoy it.”
“He’s busy working on Lily’s present,” Caden informs me. “It’s top secret, apparently.”
“I suppose I better find something to wear. How many people are coming to this thing?”
I look at Caden, and he shrugs. “A hundred?”
“A hundred?!” Aspen chokes. “For a child’s fifth birthday party?”
Caden cackles. “You see? And she has childcare experience. I told you that’s too many people, Flint.”
“Welcome to Cypress Gardens,” I reply nonchalantly. “It’s how we do things around here.”
I don’t mind going all out for Lily… especially because I have no idea if this is going to be the last birthday that we have her. And she’s a well-loved figure, her parents sorely missed. Everyone is invited, as far as I’m concerned.
“What’s wrong, Flint?” Aspen asks softly, immediately noticing my mood shift.
“He’s thinking about the hearing,” Caden volunteers.
That guy knows me too well.
“What are our chances with that?” Aspen asks in a low voice, even though Lily’s nowhere near us.
“I don’t want to fixate on the hearing right now,” I say quickly, already feeling my mood dampening with the mention. “Let’s just get through Lily’s birthday party, and then we can get back to stressing out.”
“Cheers to that,” Aspen agrees, raising her glass.
* * *
Irma and Thelma have always done a great job with Lily’s parties, and this year is no exception. Amidst their incessant squabbling, fussing over what goes where, they put together a remarkable event that misses nothing.
By the time I venture downstairs on Saturday morning, the tents and chaffing dishes are already in place in the backyard, a safety gate erected by the pool to ensure no younger guests can wander through.
“Holy smokes, you weren’t kidding about a party planner,” Aspen gawks, a cup of coffee in hand as she watches the old ladies assemble the bouncy castle and temporary stage. “I feel like I’m at Lollapalooza.”
“Baby Lollapalooza,” I quip, wrapping my arm around her waist and kissing her neck.
“It’s my party today!” Lily howls, racing through the kitchen. “Will there be goats again this year?”
“Goats?!” Aspen echoes. “You had goats?”
“From one of the local farmers,” I explain.
“Are they coming, Papa Flint?”
