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Forty minutes later, we walk down the stairs, hand in hand as the smell of bacon and pancakes fill my senses. Hmmm, that’s what I’m talking about.
I walk into the kitchen with Nate by my side to find my mother and Jesse slaving over the stove as Jesse explains their birthday tradition of cooking the birthday person whatever they want for breakfast. I don’t recall putting in my order but from the look of it, Jesse and mom have it covered.
Mom looks up as she sees me walk in and drops her spatula into the pancake batter. She rushes towards me, throwing her arms around me as she starts to get emotional. “Oh, honey,” she cries. “Happy birthday. I can’t believe my baby is eighteen. You’re growing up so fast.”
I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. “Thanks, mom,” I whisper as the smile permanently affixes itself to my face. I mean, how could a birthday possibly get better than this? I know I’ve only been awake for less than an hour but so far, this is certainly the best birthday I’ve ever had.
Mom reluctantly pulls away but holds onto my shoulder. “Now, I know it’s a long shot, but I emailed the school and said you were sick so you could enjoy your birthday, but just so you know, you can still go if you want to.”
“Really, mom?” I laugh. “Go to school or enjoy my birthday? Hmmm, that’s a tricky one.”
She can’t help but grin as she releases my shoulders. “There’s no need to be smart about it,” she chuckles. “But the other thing I wanted to tell you is that I was speaking to Trish last night, and considering it’s a Friday, she has offered for you to host a party at her place if you’d like one.”
“What? Seriously?” I grunt in surprise as Jesse looks over mom’s shoulder with wide eyes, clearly as surprised as I am, though Nate looks as though he knew about it all along.
“Yes, seriously, but she has a few rules which I must say, I completely agree with.”
“Let me guess,” I grin as a flashback of Jesse’s birthday comes to the forefront of my mind. “No underage drinking, her house is not to be destroyed, and it has to be spotless in the morning.”
“How’d you know that?” mom questions.
“Call it a gift.”
Mom goes back over to the stove to rescue the pancakes which are starting to burn as my phone goes off in my pocket. I pull it out and unlock the screen to find a text from dad. I open it up and the disappointment instantly washes over me.
Dad – Happy birthday.
Wow. Could that have been any more generic? No ‘have a great day’, no ‘I can’t believe you’re eighteen’, none of that sappy crap your parents are supposed to say.
“What’s wrong?” Nate murmurs beside me. I hold my phone out for him to see and after scanning his eyes over the screen, he presses his lips into a tight line, always on the same page as me. Well, mostly on the same page. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells me. “No matter what, I won’t stop until you’ve had the best day.”
I turn around and look up into his eyes. “Is that a promise?”
His lips drop to mine. “Definitely.”
“Cut that shit out,” Jesse says, walking past us with a plate filled to the brim of pancakes. He sets it down on the table before going back for ice cream, strawberries, and whipped cream. “Breakfast is served.”
I grin down at the table. “Damn, this looks good.”
“And so it should,” Jesse laughs. “I only put this amount of effort in for people who I actually like, which for the record, is not a lot of people.”
“I’m flattered,” I tell him, walking over and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”
He grins back at me like a puppy dog who’s just been called a good boy.
Mom brings over a plate filled with sausages, bacon, eggs, and toast which I’m assuming the boys will go for as Nate grabs the carton of orange juice and a few cups.
This is absolutely perfect.
“You should have brought your mom over,” I tell the boys. “She would have liked to see you two slaving over me.”
“Nate didn’t do any slaving,” Jesse grunts.
“Oh, believe me,” I grin. “He most certainly did.”
“OH,” mom shrieks in horror. “That is not something I want to hear.”
“Sorry, mom,” I laugh. “I’m an adult now. You’re just going to have to accept that I’m going to be… adulting with boys.”
“Boys?” Nate grunts. “I hope that plural was a mistake.”
“Who knows?” I tease. “After all, I’m a free agent, remember?”
Nate rolls his eyes before focusing back on the plate before him. “Not if I have anything to do with it,” he mumbles under his breath.
