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I shoot her a halfhearted glare. “Shut up and eat your food.”
* * *
“Where are we going, Mama?” Elaine asks as I get her ready. She’s already in a cute blue and yellow floral dress, a denim jacket on top to go with it that my brother had gotten for her—or, well, specifically his girlfriend had bought.
She stands in between my legs as I sit on the edge of her bed, braiding her hair. “A birthday party for Caden’s friend’s daughter. She’s turning three, like you. I thought maybe you guys could become friends.”
“Oh, okay,” she says with a nod. “Cake?”
I let out a laugh as I finish braiding one plait and move to the other. “Yeah, you can eat cake,” I say.
My phone buzzes next to me, and I glance at the screen to see a text from Caden.
Caden: You guys ready to go?
I chew my bottom lip as I braid Elaine’s hair. I hold her hair in one hand and grab my phone with the other, typing up a quick response.
Daria: We might be a little while longer. Just text me the address and we’ll meet you there.
I drop my phone after sending the text, chest tight as I continue with Elaine’s hair. Truthfully, while I’ve grown used to the idea of attending this party, I don’t think showing up with Caden would be a good idea. I know how it would look if we arrived together, and I want to avoid any misconceptions others may have. Even if they wouldn’t be too far off, given howcloseCaden and I are in reality, but I would rather take that extra step to keep others from speculating. Telling Caden that, though, seems rude even though I know he would understand. I don’t want to insult him or hurt his feelings in some way.
My phone buzzes with a new text.
Caden: Okay, if you’re sure.
He follows it up with another text, giving Leo’s address, and I let out a breath as I continue to braid Elaine’s hair. She hears my sigh and asks, “Okay, Mama?”
A soft smile tugs at my mouth, despite the nerves I have been feeling about attending a three-year-old’s birthday party. “All good, baby,” I assure her, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. “All good.”
4
CADEN
“Hey, man—where’s your girl?” JJ asks, beer in hand as he grins at me from over the lip of the bottle.
I level him a glare at him. “On her way—and don’t call her my girl. It’s inaccurate and it’ll freak her out,” I warn him, the words tasting only slightly bitter, despite the truth in them.
Daria isn’t my girl. It’s a fact I remind myself of every time the two of us are together, whether it’s in bed or before or after. Sometimes in those moments, when she’s under me and I’m in between her legs, or in the morning when she’s making me a cup of coffee before I have to head out, or even the occasional times she invites me to her place to watch a movie with her and Elaine. . . It’s easy to forget what we really are. It’s even easier to pretend that what we have is more than a friendship, even beyond the scope of two friends who hook up.
But she’s not my girl. And I don’t need JJ or anyone referring to her as that around other people, because it will start up unnecessary rumors when Daria was already hesitant on coming to this party in the first place.
I think of how she texted me saying she would drive on her own, and I wonder if she really had things to take care of or just made up an excuse so we didn’t have to ride in together. If it’s the latter, then I understand why she would prefer to drive on her own. I really do. I just wish she was honest with me in the first place. The fact that she wasn’t kind of stings, but I’ve been hit harder on the field. I try not to focus on it too much.
My gaze searches the room, wanting to see if she and Elaine have arrived, but I see no signs of them among the mingling adults and children that are running around, screaming, and laughing. Since it’s January, it’s too cold to host the party out in the backyard, so Leo and his sister, Andrea, transformed the spacious basement into a party zone for little kids. The space is big enough to hold fifty people or so, and they set up a bunch of different stations for the kids to take part in different activities. A face painter has been hired, as well as workers to supervise a slime making station, arts and crafts, a corner where a puppet show would be put on for the kids, and a bunch of other things to keep them entertained.
There are tables full of snacks, both sweet and savory, as well as drinks, and behind the table that displays the three-tiered cake is an arch made of purple and pink balloons, with a silver balloon of the number three in the middle. At the center of everything is a very happy Lilah.
“Leo and Andrea did good,” I comment absently as I take in my surroundings.
Next to me, JJ snorts. “Come on. We both know Andrea did most of this. Leo’s hopeless in this kind of shit.”
I throw him a weary look. “There are kids all over the place, JJ. One of the parents is going to throw a drink at you if you don’t keep the language at a G rating.”
He has the decency to look slightly embarrassed, taking another sip of his beer as his own gaze wanders. His eyebrows rise, then, as he lowers the glass and jerks his chin. “Is that your—is that Daria?” he asks, quickly correcting himself.
I follow his gaze instantly and, sure enough, Daria is walking down the stairs, one hand holding Elaine’s and the other gripping a gift bag, with Willow right alongside them. Elaine looks in awe as she takes in everything around her, childlike excitement lighting up her blue eyes that does something to my chest. When I look at Daria, she’s talking to Willow, but I can recognize the hint of nerves on her features. Nobody else would be able to spot it, but I do. I’ve known her long enough, and well enough, to see through her confident, independent mask. She is both of those things, no doubt, but she fights herself often to let any kind of vulnerability show for the most part.
I find it admirable, but also can’t help but feel exhausted for her sometimes.
