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I want this. I want it so fucking bad.
Her lips lift slightly in a smile, but she quickly hides it, not wanting to give anything away to our friends since they’re all nosy bastards.
I bounce Xael in my arms and she lets out a giggle, smacking my chest.
“Look, she wants to get away from you,” Thea jokes. “She’s definitely my daughter.”
“Are you kidding?” I scoff. “She’s showing her affection.”
Thea rolls her eyes and pops a grape in her mouth.
“I never thought you’d be this excited over a baby,” Cade comments.
I shrug. “What can I say? You guys don’t know every-fucking-thing about me.”
Thea snaps her fingers. “No cussing in front of the baby. If I’m not allowed, neither are you.”
“Yeah, man,” Xander agrees. “What do you think the swear jar is for?”
He nods to one on the kitchen counter. It’s not nearly as full as the one they have at their actual house.
I tap Xael’s cheek. “You don’t care how many bad words I say, do you?” She giggles again.
“Here, give me back my kid before her first word rhymes with duck.”
Xander grabs the baby from me.
I move to stand beside Nova, wrapping my arm around her and drawing her close. I bend and kiss the top of her head and she leans against me.
“All right,” I begin, “what’s the deal with today. You know I don’t like to make a big deal out of my birthday.”
“Exactly,” Thea chimes. “That’s why we have to change things. Birthdays are awesome.”
I wish I thought the same thing.
When my mom was alive she always made me feel special on my birthday—a breakfast of my choice, followed by some kind of special gift, and then there would be a nice dinner she’d make with more gifts and cake.
I really fucking love cake.
It’s the best part of any celebration.
But when my mom died, my birthday ceased to exist to my father.
There were never gifts or even cake.
I didn’t complain to him, though. I learned at an early age to not cross my father.
“We’re going to cook out,” Cade says. “Eat cake. Have gifts. And maybe get wasted.”
Rae, his wife, smacks the back of his head.
“Or not,” he adds.
I chuckle.
Getting wasted used to be the most appealing thing to me, but not anymore.
I wasn’t ever an alcoholic, I just liked the free, weightless, unencumbered feeling I got when I was drunk. Like none of my problems existed.
