He jogged down the steps toward the four-wheeler he’d driven over here, saying, “She says she wants to be thanked in the form of Ceylon cinnamon.”
“Fantastic.” I closed the door behind me, abandoned the sugar and frosting, and went hunting for vanilla.
I didn’t have much time. Even if Gennie kept to the plan, they were bound to finish within the next fifteen minutes. I needed everything to be as close to perfect as I could get it by then.
Shay and I hadn’t spoken much since Friday night. I told myself she was busy with school. I didn’t want to consider that she was busy taking me up on my offer to end our marriage. One of these days, I was going to have a conversation with this woman without choking on my words or being a damn fool. Probably not today. That seemed like too much to hope for.
I added the vanilla and mixed the frosting a little longer, and it slowly took on a familiar consistency. I knew I’d stepped over some lines with Shay, and I’d been aggressive with her in ways I hadn’t before. It was possible she’d come downstairs in a few minutes, take one look at this party, and walk right out the door. If she did stay, it would be purely for Gennie’s benefit. I was the guy who yelled at her about choosing terrible friends and threw her into bed and dared her to file for divorce. She wouldn’t stay for me.
With one eye glued to the clock and both ears listening for the creak of the staircase, I spread frosting over the cake. I couldn’t get it even to save my life but the cake was fully covered. Maybe Shay would assume this was Gennie’s handiwork. That would help. This could pass as the work of a six-year-old.
As I shoved every single measuring cup and spatula I owned into the dishwasher, I heard Gennie loudly say, “We should go downstairs now, Shay. Maybe you can stay for dinner. That would be lots of fun.”
I had to press a hand to my mouth to swallow some hysterical laughter at her mechanical tone. If Shay didn’t already know what was going on, the jig was definitely up now.
“That’s very sweet of you,” Shay replied, a laugh ringing in her words. She knew. She totally knew. “Let’s talk with Noah first. Okay?”
“Noah will say yes,” Gennie said, confident as could be. “Promise.”
Gennie crouched down on the step so I could see her face and flashed me a thumbs-up. I braced both hands on the countertop and went along with this ruse, asking, “Finished already? What did you work on today?”
“We read about a shipwreck in Newport Harbor,” Gennie said as they cleared the final stairs, “and it might be the ship from a famous exploration and then we did some—happy birthday, Shay!”
Gennie bounced and danced as Shay blinked from the Happy Birthday banner on the wall to my haphazard attempt at a cake to the bouquet of sunflowers on the table. I wasn’t sure whether they were still Shay’s favorite flowers. We had a ton of late-season sunflowers out near the bee colonies and grabbing a few had seemed like a safe gamble this morning.
Now I wasn’t too sure.
“Happy, happy birthday,” Gennie said, still holding Shay’s hand, still bouncing like the floor was a trampoline. “I made the banner and all the letters are right. See? And I made special placemats too. Noah helped me spell your name. And there’s cake and we got you a present and—”
Shay stared at me, her eyes narrowed as if she didn’t understand what was happening here. “You did all this?”
I shrugged. “It’s your birthday.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder, toward the oven, adding, “Gen and I have dinner, if you can stay. The meal delivery people threw together something”—don’t say special, don’t tell her you’re hanging on by a goddamn thread here, don’t say special, don’t put more pressure on this than you already have, do not say special—“different. For us. For you.”
Yeah, no pressure whatsoever.
Her lips parted, her expression softened even more. “Oh.” She blinked quickly. Her eyes were shiny. “Oh my goodness.” The words were clogged with emotion. She swallowed hard, pinched the tiny diamond pendant on her necklace and dragged it along the chain.Zip zip zip.“That’s—that’s so sweet of you.” She glanced down at Gennie, who hadn’t stopped bouncing yet. “So sweet of both of you to think of me.”
“Will you stay? Please, please, please?” Gennie pressed her hands together. “You have to stay. Say yes. Say yes!”
Shay ran a hand over Gennie’s hair as she met my gaze. “I’d love to.”
I clapped my hands together, saying, “Gen, give the coops a quick check. Then I need you to work your salad magic.”
I opened a cupboard to keep from staring at Shay. To stop myself from asking why this brought tears to her eyes. To prevent a flash flood of apologies from flying out of me.
“Salad magic.” Gennie sang this like a jazzy jingle.
“What can I do?” Shay asked.
Still concealed behind the cupboard door, I heaved out a sigh. When I couldn’t hide in there any longer, I grabbed a bowl I didn’t need and set it on the countertop. “Take Shay outside and show her around the coop.”
Gennie reached for Shay’s hand, saying, “Stay with me. I won’t let them peck you.”
The coop didn’t need to be checked. The egg boxes were empty. I knew this because I checked them before Gennie and Shay arrived from school this afternoon. But I needed a minute because I couldn’t breathe with the pressure of getting this right for Shay. I would’ve been fine with any reaction other than this one. Even if she’d declined the invitation and walked out the door, I would’ve handled that without issue.
This…was different.
While they were outside, I pulled several dishes from the oven and did my best to make them presentable. I owed Fig and Fennel, the meal delivery people, a fuck-ton of fresh basil for this special order.
