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“What are you talking about? You could never be out of place, because my family is your family. Now go and have a good dinner, and tomorrow morning you can tell me all about it.”
“Fine.” I put my vehicle in park. “Will you come to my house when you get off?”
“It’s the only place I would go when I get off. Tell my mom I’m sorry I can’t make it.”
“I will.”
“Bye.”
The phone disconnects without a happy birthday, and I feel a ping of disappointment.
“This has been the worst birthday in the history of birthdays.”
“Arf!” Milo tries to follow my voice by crawling across the console. She trips when her foot lands in the cup holder, but she eventually falls into my lap.
“Let’s get this over with.” With Milo in one hand, the pie in the other, and the wine squeezed tight under my arm, I walk along the sidewalk toward the front door. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll open a tub of Ben and Jerry’s when we get home.”
“Arf!”
“See,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “This is why we’re friends. You support emotional eating.”
“Arf!”
I stop in front of the door and stare at the doorbell, which I can’t exactly reach because of all the things I’m holding. I reach for the small round button, but fall short.
“Screw it.” Using the toe of my shoe, I give the door three solid kicks.
“It’s open,” Vivian hollers from the other side.
“Uh…” I look down at stuff in my hands and then at Milo. “You do have four legs.”
Milo tilts her head at me.
“Don’t cock your head at me. You’re more than capable of walking in yourself.” I squat down, loosen my grip on Milo, and she reluctantly jumps toward the ground.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching for the front door. It opens easily, and I use my foot to nudge Milo into the house.
Vivian and Sawyer have a beautiful home, full of so much warmth and love. It’s the sort of home I hope to have someday—the kind where memories of laughter live in the walls, where every nick, dent, and paint chip tells a story.
The fireplace is on, bathing the room in a soft, orange glow, and the smell of food wafts through the house, causing my mouth to water.
“Vivian?” I holler, shutting the door behind me.
“In the kitchen, dear.”
Milo takes off through the house. She’s been here enough now that she knows which obstacles are in her way and has learned to maneuver through the rooms.
The closer I get to the kitchen, the more delectable the smell becomes, and my stomach growls.
“It smells so good in here.” My nose follows my stomach into the kitchen, and when I round the corner there’s a chorus of “Surprise!”
I jump nearly a foot off the ground and almost lose the pie and wine in the process. “Oh my gosh!” I say, looking around at everyone.
The room is full. Mom is standing next to Phil’s wheelchair, which is parked next to Mo and Rhett. Coop, Lincoln, Adley, and Tess are all smiles by the stove next to Vivian, who is holding a birthday cake, and Sawyer, who has an arm draped around his bride.
And then there’s Trevor, and the sight of his gorgeous, bright smile brings tears to my eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at work!”
He smiles, takes the wine and pie from my hands, sets them on the island in the middle of the kitchen, and he reaches for me. Drawing me into his warm embrace, he kisses the side of my head and laughs.
