By the time we emerge from the maze, we’re all disheveled and slightly manic from sensory overload. Emmy’s tutu is twisted sideways, and Jared’s shirt is untucked.
“Is it café time?” Sophie asks. “I need coffee after that.”
“Definitely café and cake time,” Jared says.
We collect our phones and walk to a café down the street, one of those aggressively hip places where the coffee comes in mason jars.
Emmy insists on sitting next to me, which makes me feel like it’s my birthday.
She’s telling the server very seriously that her Uncle Jared is very old, while Jared protests that characterization.
“You’re ancient,” I tell him. “Practically dust.”
“I’m three years older than you,” he reminds me.
“Three years is forever. You probably remember when the pyramids were built.”
Emmy’s swinging her legs, accidentally kicking me every third swing, but I don’t mind. She’s coloring her kid’s menu with broken crayons.
“That’s really good,” I tell her.
“It’s you and Uncle Jared and Mummy and me,” she says, pointing at different blobs. “We’re at the beach.”
“Why do I have tentacles?”
“Those are your arms.”
“Right. Of course.”
Sophie’s watching us again.
“You’re good with her,” she says quietly while Jared’s distracted by Emmy adding purple spikes to everyone’s hair in her drawing.
Something tight in my chest loosens.
“She’s easy to be good with. She’s basically a tiny comedian with questionable fashion sense. We have a lot in common.”
Sophie almost smiles, but then something shifts in her expression, becoming closed off again.
Maybe it’s just going to take time for her to warm to me? Rome wasn’t built in a day, and apparently neither is Sophie’s approval. Maybe if I keep being good with Emmy, keep making Jared laugh, keep showing up, she’ll eventually see that I’m not going anywhere. That I’m not just some guy taking advantage of her brother’s kindness.
She’s protective of Jared, which makes sense. Maybe she thinks I’m just another responsibility Jared’s taken on, another broken thing he feels obligated to fix. The thought makes my stomach churn worse than the time I ate that questionable sushi from the gas station.
Because I’m not, am I? I like to think that Jared and I help each other, that it’s not a one-way street.
The café staff brings out the cake then, and sure enough, it’s lit up like a fire hazard with twenty-eight candles. The whole café joins in singing happy birthday, Emmy the loudest of all, and Jared’s face goes red, but he’s grinning.
I love seeing him like this. Happy and relaxed, his smile reaching his eyes in a way that makes them crinkle at the corners, his hand casually resting on the back of my chair.
“Make a wish!” Emmy demands.
Jared closes his eyes to blow out the candles. When he opens them, he’s looking right at me. My stomach does a complete gymnastics routine.
Was his wish about us? Or am I just projecting because, right now, the greatest wish of my life would be to be in a proper relationship with Jared? Forever.
I can’t keep on going on like this. I need to talk to him about my feelings. About how I want so much more.
And okay, blindsiding him on his birthday may not be a great present, but I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine.
