Her forehead scrunches, like it always does when she’s confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean … tell me something about yourself that I’ve missed over the years. You know, with all this hate between us … I know there’s tons of stuff in your life I’ve missed.”
I can see she is skeptical of why I’m asking. I don’t blame her. For years, I’ve kept my distance, treating her like the plague in order to protect her. Now, I’m too close—and I want more.
“You’ve missed a lot in the last nine years, Walker.”
“Nothing like the present to change that,” I challenge as I take a sip of wine. “I’ll go first if you’d like.”
Her lips purse with interest as she leans her elbows on the table. “Fine. I’ll go if you go.”
I match her posture, our faces now only a foot apart. The urge to reach across the table and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear is strong, but I resist.
I scrub my chin as I think of something that she doesn’t know about me that might give her a glimpse into a part of me not everybody knows. “Hmm, I forgot my birthday three years in a row. I never realized it until I got home and saw a message from Eva, wishing me a happy birthday.”
Her eyes bug open as her hand lightly hits the table. “Walker, that’s awful. What about your parents?”
I cock a brow at her. “Come on, Jessie. You know my parents. They’re too busy to remember something like their kids’ birthdays.”
“What about the guys?” she asks.
I shrug. “They’re busy too.”
“Well, that’s just sad. That’s no way to live your life. That’s not a flex, Walker.”
“I never said it was. It was just the first thing that came to mind.”
I wonder why it’s what came to mind. Is it that, underneath everything, it bothers me that I never remembered my own birthday or had anyone in my day-to-day life who did?
I don’t hold it against the guys. We don’t remember shit like that. Even if we did, we aren’t the type to call the other up to tell each other it’s our birthday.
But I remember Jessie and Eva always made such a big deal out of one another’s birthdays. It made me smile to see how easily they showed affection toward each other.
Her head shakes back and forth, like she is still in disbelief at my confession.
“Your turn,” I tell her.
She places her wineglass on the table and sits up straighter. “My turn. Okay, let me think.”
She mimics my gesture earlier and scratches her chin. I can’t help but laugh at her performance, leaning forward curiously as I wait.
“Okay. I’ve got one. I have an Excel spreadsheet, ranking each dessert I try in the city.”
“Every single dessert?” I ask to clarify.
She giggles and nods. “Every. Single. Dessert.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope. Not kidding at all. It’s long. Extensive. I give them star rankings from one to five and explain my reasoning.”
I find that incredibly endearing and very like Jessie. She’s always loved her sweets. “I think that means we need to get a dessert tonight. I’ll help you rank it.”
“You mean, you don’t think that’s the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard?” She snorts before she takes a sip of wine.
“It’s a cute kind of pathetic,” I tease.
She tosses her napkin at me, and my head falls back with laughter. The waitress interrupts with our dinner, which is exactly when Eli decides to grace us with her presence. I scoot the stroller closer to me to pick her up and instantly notice the foul smell coming from her.
