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“What are you doing?”
“A Google search on Tristan Sanchester,” she replied, tapping swiftly on my phone. “It doesn’t say anything about his previous relationships or daughter,” she said, looking at me.
“You think Adrian lied?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “No way,” she gasped after looking at the phone again.
“What?” I asked, standing up.
“Did you know today is yournovio’sbirthday?”
“No. No one said anything about it.”
“Well, it’s today, and you’re seventeen hours late.”
“Are you sure it’s today? Adrian would have said something or his family,” I said, and she gave me the phone.
“It could be wrong. You know what they say; don’t believe everything you see on the internet.”
“Should I call him and ask?”
“No, dumbass. Surprise him. After going behind his back for information about his past, you owe him a great night. It might even ease the suspicion.”
“So, what kind of surprise should I give him? You know I’m a disaster in the kitchen,” I asked, and she smirked.
“Birthday sex hits different, you know,” she said with a sly smile.
I laughed and shook my head at her suggestion.
“Okay,” I said, taking the bag of chips and the salsa sauce to eat in the car.
“Call me tomorrow and give me all the details,” she said as we walked to the front door.
“Pray I don’t mess this up,” I said.
“I won’t be surprised if you do,” she said, and I glared at her.
“Love you.Adiós,” she said after we shared a hug.
I blew her a kiss as I walked to my car.
I stoppedby the pastry store on my way and bought a small cake. The ride back to the house was just me arguing with myself. I looked beside me at the red velvet cake I’d bought. I smiled at the bodyguards outside. They had been lingering around since someone had broken into the house and hung those paintings in Tristan’s room. I didn’t see Morris when I entered the house. Maybe he had gone to visit his family.
I went upstairs to check if Tristan was home. I opened the door and found the room empty. I went back downstairs and got a bottle of red wine and two wineglasses. I got everything set and sat on the bed, waiting. My heart skipped when I heard the front door open.
Why was I nervous, like I was about to give a speech in front of a large crowd?
I’m scared I might not do it right or he might not like it. Maybe it’s too cliché. What if he hates red velvet cake? What if he is allergic to the scent of the candles?All thoughts flew out of my head when the door to his room opened.
“Happy birthday!” I screamed as soon as I saw Tristan.
He looked surprised at first. It changed to anger when I started singing; it must have been my voice. He wouldn’t be the first to hate it. I picked up the cake and continued singing as I walked to where he stood like a statue.
Why wasn’t he smiling?
“Stop,” he said with a tight jaw. “Who told you? My mom?”
“No.”
