Oh lord. I’m going to swoon. Monty is gorgeous, intelligent, kind and caring, and he is good with kids. He really is far too perfect to be true.
As we leave the room, I turn the baby monitor back around. I have no desire to give Ned a heart attack when he sees a blank wall instead of his children. Hopefully, he’ll assume they wandered off in search of breakfast when he sees their empty beds.
In the kitchen, the party preparations are already in full swing. The air hums with quiet excitement. Lello lets out a delighted squeal the moment he sees us and quickly whisks the kids away to help arrange the food.
Blue and Sammy are inflating balloons, their laughter filling the room as one balloon stubbornly refuses to cooperate. At the far end, Gray and Mal are working on the bunting, their hands swift and sure as they unravel the roll.
I’m smiling so much that my cheeks ache. I head to the cupboard and crouch down, half-crawling into the bottom compartment where the banner has been hiding. It is still there, safely tucked away. I pull it out with a triumphant flourish, the bright, hand-painted letters a testament to the kids’ hard work.
I look up at the ceiling. It should fit nicely, strung across from wall to wall, and there are cabinets it could be attached to. Though I’m not tall enough. Maybe Monty could reach?
I whirl at a tap on my shoulder. Gray holds out his hands. Wordlessly, I pass him the banner. What the…? He is even shorter than me.
I blink as the little demon scuttles effortlessly up the wall like a spider.
Oh. Well, that’s one way of doing it.
Mal walks over and stands beneath him, holding up tape like he has done this thousands of times before. As if your boyfriend crawling up walls is a normal, everyday occurrence.
My gaze shifts briefly to the kids, who are still busy arranging sandwiches into neat little patterns. They’ve clearly noticed Gray’s acrobatics, but they don’t seem the least bit surprised, let alone scared.
It makes me smile. It’s a good thing Morgan and Ned gave up on trying to hide the paranormal from the kids. It was always a lost cause, and the children have taken it in their stride. Which is not surprising. I’m human, and I was raised with full knowledge of the supernatural. It certainly didn’t do me any harm.
I think it is only when humans reach adulthood believing the world to be mundane, that they then freak out when theydiscover the truth. Even then, it doesn’t seem to be too awful. Sammy adjusted quickly enough.
“They’re coming down the stairs,” Mal announces, his voice calm but urgent.
“Quickly! Everyone in position!” I say, clapping my hands lightly.
Gray finishes securing the banner just in time, dropping down with a nimble grace that is a little unsettling to witness.
I take a step back, surveying the room. The balloons are tied, the bunting is strung, and the food is laid out in colorful perfection. The kids’ banner hangs proudly across the room, its bright letters spelling out a heartfelt message.
Everything’s ready. Balloons and streamers? Check. Enough confetti to drive Ned insane for weeks? Definitely. The cake, chocolate, because that’s Ned’s favorite, sits center stage on the table, surrounded by the almost obscene amount of party food. The kids’ painted handprints on the banner add the final touch, bright and messy, just like children should be.
Grinning, I turn to face the door and wait for Ned’s arrival.
The knob turns, and Ned steps in. For a split second, he looks calm, maybe even a little curious. Then we all shout, “Surprise!” as we pull our party-poppers.
His reaction is everything I hoped for. Ned jumps so hard he clutches at the doorframe, his wide-eyed expression is something to behold. I can’t help but grin as the kids erupt into cheers, and Gray flicks his fingers, sending a few extra bursts of confetti into the air for good measure.
Ned’s gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the chaos. The balloons, the streamers, the food. I watch his face soften when he spots the cake, his eyes lighting up like a kid’s. Then his attention shifts to the banner. I bite back a laugh as he stares at it, his expression a mix of amusement and pride at the kids’ paint job.
Morgan steps in behind him, his presence seeming to soften Ned as always. I catch Morgan’s little smirk, he’s been in on this from the start, of course. He murmurs something into Ned’s ear, low enough that only Ned can hear. Whatever he says, it makes Ned beam.
Ned’s eyes shine, and my chest tightens. He deserves this. A room full of people who love him, who would go to the ends of the earth to make sure he knows it. And as he finally starts to laugh, wiping at his eyes, I know we pulled it off. It really couldn’t get better than this.
Lello starts cutting up the cake. Oops, we forgot to tell him about singing happy birthday, and candles and how the birthday person cuts the cake. But Ned doesn’t seem to mind. And the kids are so thrilled with having chocolate cake for breakfast, they don’t care either.
I smile as Lello hands me a huge slice of cake on a rainbow colored paper plate. Monty accepts his offering graciously and then flashes me an ecstatic smile. I know just what he is thinking. This, all of this. The noisy bright chaos and cheap paper plates, is infinitely better than the stuffy formal events we were raised in.
“Now Ned’s birthday is done, we need to start organizing the most perfect Christmas ever!” exclaims Lello with frightening enthusiasm.
The room fills with good natured groans and I laugh. Lello doing Christmas? Now that we have children in the house? That really is going to be something.
I watch as Morgan pulls Ned close and the two of them share a long, loving look. It’s making me grin so broadly that my cheeks really are starting to hurt.
Sammy puts some cheerful music on, and the atmosphere is complete. I chuckle and take a bite of cake. Delicious.
