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I nod. “She asked me to get it.” I glance back at Clarissa, who’s doing shit to hide her sly smile. “And I have a good idea why.”

“Uh huh. So, you’re Troy.”

“Yeah.” She opens her mouth to spew, what I’m sure, is years’ worth of pent up insults, and I raise my hands, defenseless. “And before you read me the riot act, I just want to thank you, profusely, for all you’ve done for him. I know how much you love him. So,” I whisper low, “before you declare me nothing but a piece of shit sperm donor and unworthy father, just know that I’ve wanted for a long time to meet the other Dad in his life and I’m all ears for any tips you want to give me.”

My rehearsed door speech goes over well, and I can see her eyes soften ever so slightly.

“How did you know about me?”

Confused, I look back to Clarissa who darts her eyes away before opening a box a candles for the cake.

“I’ve seen you around.”

Parker guffaws. “Funny, I can only recall seeing you once when—”

“Auntie Parker!” Dante yells before he comes running into her arms. She scoops him up, the smile on her face genuine.

“Hey, Duckie, Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you,” he squeaks as she keeps him close while he struggles to get out of her arms.

“Just five more seconds,” she snuggles him as he wiggles in an attempt to escape. She sighs, letting him go entirely.

“I got so many presents on the table,” Dante exclaims proudly. “But Mommy didn’t get my boats and hoes cake like I wanted.”

“Because it’s highly inappropriate,” Clarissa chimes from the table. “And you are not to watch that movie ever again.”

“I agree,” Parker says, taking her ball-melting gaze from me and giving Dante her undivided attention. “So, with all those presents, I guess you don’t need what I have in the trunk.”

“No, I do! I do, I swear!”

“Okay then.” Lifting her keys, she clicks the fob for her SUV, and the trunk opens. I stand back stupefied before damn near gasping like a girl at the number of wrapped packages, feeling my balls shrink to the size of raisins.

“Parker!” Clarissa scolds, walking past me as Dante hauls ass down the porch, his eyes wide.

“It’s not much,” Parker says guiltily.

Clarissa openly gapes at the truck along with me.

“Okay,” Parker says, looking between the two of us, “confession, I may have taken an Ambien, and accidentally one-clicked everything on his wish list. I might have also gotten everything on mine,” she brings her tone down so only we can hear, “which included six lifelike vibrators and two Womanizers,” she elbows Clarissa, “and I brought one for you. I swear to God, it’s the best thing ever invented.”

Dante is practically screaming as he unpacks the SUV, and I feel my enthusiasm take a nose-dive. It took me weeks to save up for the present waiting on the table. Clarissa shakes her head and pulls Parker into a hug. “I can’t even be mad,” she nods toward Dante, who is unknowingly dropping gifts on the lawn behind him as he brings an armful up the steps, his face lit up like Christmas. “Come in, babe.”

As they hug, Parker bats her lashes my way, and I narrow my eyes and mouth, ‘game on.’ She mouths back, ‘bring it.’

It’s not much of a party. Just the fou

r of us, but I can’t help but be thankful to finally be a part of this day. When I asked Dante why he didn’t invite his friends, he shied away from the question. It’s something I’m determined to get to the bottom of, but today I don’t want him feeling anything but elated, which he is the moment he opens my gift. It’s exactly the reaction I hoped for.

“Troy! You got me a drone?”

“I did. Happy Birthday.”

Though Dante had sent me dozens of amazon links, all of the gifts were less than thirty dollars. I know that conditioning. I’d done the same thing with my own mom, never asking for more than she could afford so as to not make her feel bad. That’s the thing about being raised by a single parent, you tend to look at them like it’s your job to take care of them as much as they do you. I’m proud of my son for being so considerate and want to reward him for it.

Both Clarissa and Parker look at me with suspicion and awe.

“Can I go play with it, Mommy, please?”

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