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“Take a breath,” Tray advised me, not sounding particularly amused. “You’re going to rupture a lung.”
“And look, there are twenty-eight candles. Just like your age. It was hard fitting them all in, but I did it.”
“Twenty-four. I’m only twenty-four, squirt.” Then he squinted and shook his head, realizing she’d been kidding. “What’s next? I’ve already gotten an obscene cake and age jokes. Lemme guess. Birthday spankings?”
“Only if you’re lucky.” After a long wheezy exhale, I held up a finger. “Hang on. I need to get your presents.” I glanced at Carly “Don’t let him eat his penis until I get back.”
“You are so hilarious. Both of you. I’d laugh, but Mia sucked all the air out of the room.”
Still grinning, I jogged out to his car. I’d borrowed it for my running around this morning—I actually had a license now—and the passenger seat was stacked with boxes. I’d bought just as many presents for me as I had for him, but I figured we’d only have one first birthday together. And I’d had fun buying up the store.
I wouldn’t have as much fun adjusting my budget, especially since we’d just moved into our new place, but those were the lumps. I could always take on more shifts at Vinnie’s or new clients at The Cage. I only had a couple since I was on probation, but my track record on the circuit had helped me land the job. I definitely appreciated the extra cash now that I wasn’t fighting anymore and had a new spiffy apartment to decorate.
Well, Carly was decorating. I was okay with my saggy couch and the chair with the broken springs, but we needed to be able to entertain guests. So she said.
She seemed happy here in the city. I’d asked her flat out if she wasn’t, if she’d rather return home to Aunt Patty or hell, get away from me, period. Just because I’d chosen to stay in New York didn’t mean she had to do the same. But she’d told me she wanted to live with me, that she’d been waiting for years for our chance to be a couple of freewheeling young women making our own way.
I’d only cried for twenty minutes or so.
Tray had repeatedly asked us to move in with him. I’d been tempted, because we hadn’t had much time to look for safe, affordable housing. Okay, so that wasn’t the only reason. I wanted to set the right example for Carly, and moving us in with a guy I’d known for only three months didn’t seem like it. I could only imagine Aunt Patty’s reaction.
But even so, we’d only signed a year lease, and I fully expected to be living with Tray by this time next year. Instead of that making me feel panicky and unsure, it gave me a warm glow. I was loved. I loved, even if I hadn’t quite said the words yet. And the world hadn’t ended.
Everything wasn’t roses. I’d decided to try therapy once a week, and so far I’d gone through three therapists. The current one had lasted two sessions, and I was hopeful. As long as she didn’t start telling me to join an abuse recovery group like the others had, we might be okay.
It had taken me this long to tell anyone about my rape, never mind a room of people. Group therapy helped plenty of others. Perhaps it would be help me too someday. But not now.
Tray and I fought—a lot—but we enjoyed the making up part just as much. He still tried to tell me what to do more than I liked, and I still retreated into silence in defense. His parents weren’t particularly thrilled he was dating me, and I couldn’t say I adored them either. But we’d lived through a couple of family dinners and we even managed to laugh afterward.
Usually while consuming an alcoholic beverage. Or three.
We weren’t giving up. If fighting had taught us anything, it was the importance of not being a quitter. It had also taught us how to judge an opponent’s weakness.
I hefted the boxes and headed back inside. I had one of Tray’s in my arms.
Tray and Carly were cutting the cake and sliding pieces onto the paper plates we’d brought. They were both laughing. God, I loved that sound.
Tray came over to help as I entered the room, cocking a brow at my pile of unwrapped presents. “Shopping? I feel privileged.”
“It gets even better.” Carly sucked pudding off her thumb and waggled her brows. “Just wait until you saw what she bought. You will be a very happy man.”
“Car, eat your penis and be quiet.”
Tray took the top box from me and shook it like a five-year-old. “When do I get to open it?”
“After my sister leaves. Which she is doing soon.”
“Aww, you are no fun. The woman chains me to a hot stove all day then I’m forced out just when things are getting interesting.” She marched over to hug Tray, squealing when he lifted her off her feet. “There’s another cake for tonight. A real one. Not strictly dickly.”
“Two cakes? This having a hot girlfriend with a cook for a sister is so working out in my favor.” He swung her around and finally set her down, smoothing back her flyaway curls. “Thank you. You’re awesome. Good luck and kick ass.” He flicked his wrist, making her giggle. “Now please get lost.”
She laughed and grabbed a piece of cake on her way out. “Yeah, yeah. I’m outta here.”
“You’re sure you’re okay to take the train there?” I asked, well aware I sounded like a worried mother. Or maybe grandma. Carly was visiting a culinary school that afternoon and insisted she wanted to do the first visit on her own.
“I’m fine, Mama Bear. Have fun.” She made an obscene hand gesture and shut the door in Tray’s face when he pretended to chase after her.
“She is so subtle.” After setting down the boxes, I fingered my braid and headed toward the cake. Now that the moment of truth had arrived, I was nervous. As usual.
