Page 17 of The Scars We Heal

My little girl, the joy of my life, was turning four. Some days—most days, really—I couldn’t believe how much she was growing. Other days, I wanted to pull my hair out, because it was more like Whitley was three going on thirteen with the sass and attitude she gave me.

Yesterday, she’d looked me square in the face when it was time to go down for a nap and told me I looked like I needed to get more beauty sleep, so I should probably go take a nap, too.

I didn’t think I was this much of a diva as a kid. I’d be asking my mother later, but for now, I would blame it on Adam.

Luckily, she was spending the day with my mom, so I could get the finishing touches for the birthday party set up. The cottage was a little small for ten people, but if we had to, we could take it outside. It’d probably do her some good to run around in the grass with the rowdy cowboys. For now, though, the living room was decorated in shades of pastel—sage green, baby blue, light pink, and butter yellow. I was in the process of hanging a sparkly banner that read Happy Birthday above the fireplace, and I also bought a few balloons to put out front.

What I was most proud of, though, was the cake. I could have just gone to the grocery store and ordered one from the bakery, but I wanted to try my hand at making it myself. Whit loved everything sweet—she’d taken after me—but recently, she wanted all things chocolate.

To be fair, it was a box cake, but the frosting was homemade chocolate buttercream, and I’d filled the inside with a mixture of strawberry jam and vanilla buttercream. The top was decorated with swirls of chocolate frosting and sliced strawberries. Later on, we’d add some candles for her to blow out. I put a lot of effort and love into her cake, so hopefully, she would love it as much as I did.

A knock at the front door pulled my attention away from decorating. I glanced at the clock, internally panicking. When I saw the time, my shoulders relaxed a bit. It was only eleven, and the party wasn’t supposed to start until one. However, a prickle of annoyance crept up my arms at the person disrupting my flow.

I climbed down my step ladder and poked my head around the corner, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever was at the door.

Butterflies erupted in my chest when I realized it was Jake, and I did my best to conceal my grin as I flung open the door.

“The party’s not for another two hours, you know,” I teased as a greeting.

He shrugged. “I thought I’d come by and see if you needed any help setting up.”

Cue more butterflies.

Adam never would have taken the time to help decorate his own daughter’s birthday party. In fact, we’d never thrown Whitley a birthday party before for that reason. Well, that and I didn’t really have any friends back in Washington who I’d want to invite to a birthday party for a toddler. Sure, there was Tory, a friend I met at a book club, who had offered to ship me my things, but I honestly believed she was only doing that because she felt sorry for me.

“I’m just adding the finishing touches, but you’re more than welcome to hang out.” I stepped out of the doorway so he could come inside.

“It looks really nice in here, Cait,” he murmured as he took in our surroundings.

I hadn’t really done much with the place other than add the decorations for the party. If it were my house, there were some things I’d want to do to the interior, but it wasn’t my place. This living arrangement was temporary.

“Thanks, I did the best I could to make it the fairy princess party of her dreams.” I huffed out a laugh.

“She’s going to love it. You’re a good mom, you know that?”

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth.

Was I?

This was the first party I’d thrown for her ever.

A better mom wouldn’t have waited until their daughter had turned four to have a big celebration, I thought before pushing the guilt away. Those were fighting words that my therapist would have scolded me for.

“Everyone has their own timelines. Just because you haven’t reached a milestone that other parents have, doesn’t mean you’re behind. Parenthood is such an individual journey. It’s not a one size fits all, Caitlin,” she would say.

Still, I couldn’t meet his gaze, instead choosing to change the subject as I walked into the kitchen. “Colter’s going to grill some burgers and hot dogs for the party. I was going to make some side dishes, too. Do you guys like macaroni salad and Italian pasta salad? I also got some fruit.”

“Have you seen us?” Jake laughed. “We’ll eat whatever you have available. Do you need me to run to the store to get anything? I don’t have anything going on.”

After opening the fridge, I tapped my lips with my finger, surveying what I had before turning my head toward him. “We’re probably going to need some drinks. Both kid-friendly and adult,” I added.

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Chips? I don’t know. I guess anything you think of that we might need. It’s only going to be ten of us, including Whit, though, so don’t go too crazy. I’m not exactly swimming in cash right now.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about paying me back. I’ve got it. Whatever you need, Cait, just let me know.”

When I spun around to tell him off, my face nearly smashed into his chest. He wasn’t that much taller than me, but he still had a good four inches or so.