Page 48 of Based on You

She heard me then and spun around. There was white flour dusted on her cheek and smeared on the sleeve of the oversized shirt she'd slept in. Her eyes went wide, darting from the kitchen, to the balloons, to the crooked banner, to the cake on the counter, then back to me.

"What's all this?" I asked quietly.

She let out a long breath. "I had Manuel run out and get the balloons last night." She gestured helplessly at the banner. "And I found a basic kit online. I just wanted it to be a surprise for her when she woke up." She winced. "The cake took three separate tries. Making icing apparently isn't my strongest skill."

I looked over at the cake. Bright green icing. HAPPY 14 LIV. The second L was noticeably taller than the first.

"Why did you do all this?" My voice came out thick.

She looked at me a long moment. "I figured heavy days like this would have you deep in your own head. And I really wanted to take some of that weight off you, if I could."

The pressure behind my eyes came on fast.

I stared at her. She had flour on her face, and her dark hair had half-escaped its knot, and she was looking right at me with a steadiness that had nothing demanding in it.

"Thank you," I managed.

She waved the gratitude off. "Don't. It's happening."

"Violet."

"I really mean it, Simon. We're moving on."

I didn't move on. I stood planted in the kitchen and looked at the balloons she'd hung, and the lopsided cake she'd baked, and the flour on her sleeve, and I thought about Elena.

Sleepy footsteps came down the main stairs.

Olivia shuffled around the corner in her pajamas, her dark hair loose and tangled, barely awake, and stopped.

She looked blankly at the kitchen. She looked up at the balloons. She looked at the crooked banner. She looked at the green cake on the counter, and finally she looked at Violet standing nervously beside it with a dish towel over her shoulder. Olivia's eyes filled with tears, and her mouth pressed into a tight, trembling line.

"I wasn't expecting—" She stopped, choking on a sob, and pressed her lips together. "I honestly wasn't expecting anything today."

"Well, that's just silly," Violet said.

Olivia crossed the kitchen in three quick strides and threw her arms around her.

I watched my niece hold onto Violet with both arms, her chin buried in Violet's shoulder. I watched Violet wrap her arms around the teenager and hold on right back, and I saw that Olivia was crying. Deep, heaving crying she'd clearly been holding in for a long time.

She was crying for the birthday cake, and she was crying for her dead mother. Both at the same time, the grief and the gratitude sitting together, because in this house, they always arrived together.

Olivia eventually pulled back, wiping her wet face with the back of her hand. She looked at Violet. "Thank you."

"There's really no need," Violet said.

"There is."

"There really isn't." Violet looked around the messy kitchen, then at both of us. "I still have a few things to finish in here. You two should go for a morning walk. Go down to the lake."

I shook my head. "I'm not leaving you in here to do all this yourself."

"I have Manuel to help. And you really don't need to worry about the rest of it. Go spend some time with her." She looked at me, her chin lifting in command. "Go."

I looked over at Olivia. Olivia looked back at me.

We went.

I didn't want to leave. Standing in that kitchen with the balloons and the flour and the warmth Violet had built from scratch that morning, my chest was full in a way it hadn't been in eight long months. I walked toward the door only because she'd told me to.