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He puts away the phone and wraps his fingers around mine. “Love you, Bella, darling. Never forget that.”
A lump lodges in my throat. I miss spending time with him. I miss falling asleep in his study and waking up to the sound of his pencil scratching over paper and a soft blanket covering me. I miss falling asleep in the back of the car when we return from a late night at friends only to wake when Dad carries me up to bed.
My dad has never been stingy with his compliments or in showing Mattie or me affection. Yet for some reason, this moment feels major. He picked up more weight, and the dark rings under his eyes say he’s losing sleep, but he’s healthy and still in good shape. He’s strong and dependable. He’s not going to have a heart attack or a stroke.
I tell myself this as I wrap my fingers around the sea turtle pendant on the gold chain around my neck and huddle closer. “I love you too, Dad.”
The piece of jewelry is my most precious materialistic possession. The bracelet Angelo’s family gifted me is now lying in the bottom of my drawer. After my seventeenth birthday, I never wore it again.
Celeste exits and claps her hands. “Everyone at the table, please.” On her way back into the house, she calls, “Ryan, you’re at the head. Everybody else can sit wherever they please.”
Knowing what’s to come, I don’t offer to help. I stay next to my dad while the others take their places. Mom leads Brad by the hand to his highchair, which is placed between Ryan and Celeste. Mom sits down on the other side of Dad. When he takes her hand and cups it on his thigh, my heart warms.
A moment later, Celeste walks out with a giant cake smothered in chocolate frosting. Twenty-eight candles burn on top.
“Happy birthday, Ryan,” she says, glowing more brightly than the combined flames of the birthday candles.
Ryan gives her a private smile as she puts the cake in front of him and takes her hand when she straightens next to his chair. His parents start singing happy birthday. Mom rolls her eyes but joins in as everyone takes the cue. Ryan looks mildly embarrassed.
Brad claps his hands and laughs from his belly, which makes everyone chuckle in turn.
“You know what to do,” Celeste says, kissing Ryan’s cheek.
He turns to Brad. “Ready, champ?”
Brad makes big eyes.
“Wait.” Vida takes a phone from her pocket. “I have to film this. Oh, shoot. It’s not working. No. It’s fine. I’ve got it. Go ahead.”
My mom rolls her eyes again.
Ryan takes a big breath and blows out the candles, much to Brad’s delight.
Celeste hands Ryan a knife. “The honor is yours.”
“No cake for us,” Oliver says. “It’ll upset our diet. If it didn’t come straight from the sea, I’m afraid we can’t touch it.”
“Does caviar count?” Mom asks with a bite in her tone.
Oliver looks genuinely puzzled. “That’s a very good question. No, I guess it doesn’t. The sea didn’t offer it, did it?”
“Didn’t it offer the fish?” she asks.
Dad kicks her under the table.
Celeste hands out the slices of cake, starting with Brad who digs his little fists into the frosting and makes a huge mess of stuffing his face.
“You’d think we’d eat before dessert is served,” Mom says under her breath.
“There’s nothing wrong with doing things out of order every now and again,” Dad replies.
Mattie cups her stomach. “This baby does not like chocolate.”
“Do you need the bathroom?” Jared asks, jumping to his feet.
Mattie waves him away. “I can make it there just fine.”
“First trimester,” Mom announces with an air of expertise to Vida and Oliver.
“Oh.” Vida takes a sip of her lemon juice. “We’ve all been there.”
Mom pins me with a look. “Almost all of us.”
“Don’t start,” I say around a mouthful of cake. “This is delicious, Celeste.”
“Thank you.” She plonks down in a chair next to Ryan. “Who’s hungry for food? Someone other than Ryan has to man the barbecue. He’s not allowed to work on his birthday.”
“Oh, dear.” Mom takes a gulp of wine. “If it’s your father, we’re eating burnt chicken.”
“Chargrilled chicken,” he says with a wink.
Everyone laughs.
I sit back and observe the people around the table. They all speak at once. The conversation is chaotic and loud. Mom is throwing jabs and Celeste is ignoring her. Brad has dumped a lump of frosting in Vida’s lap. Oliver is trying to clean it with a napkin he dunked in his glass of water, making an even bigger mess. The gathering is disjointed, but it’s us. It’s not the cocktail party Mom would’ve liked, but somehow, it seems normal.
Like family.
For once, despite our problems, everyone seems happy.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Angelo
The improvement in my father is remarkable. In the sunlight filtering through the big windows in the dining room, his countenance is radiant. His cheeks have a healthy color, and his eyes are clear. They’ve lost their cloudiness of the last few months. The surgeon did, however, tell him he wasn’t operating if my father didn’t quit smoking. My father gave up his cigarillos, which makes him cranky.
