When we walk into the closed-off area of the restaurant, her little eyes light up and joy spreads across her face as she takes in the decorations: balloons in the shape of astronauts, planets, and a mix of different floral designs blended together as centerpieces, pale pink and white streamers line the ceiling, and plates printed with a galaxy design sit on a big table.
Next to the plates sits the birthday cake; a single-tier cake, split down the middle. One side is decorated with blobs of frosting that make up the solar system, the other side frosted to look like a yellow macaron. Little plastic cups made to look like china tea sets sit at each table, accompanied by matching tea pots, each of which is filled with a different kind of soda.
It’s a big, beautiful, mismatched mess, and I love it.
Several of her friends are already here, munching on some of the little treats I’ve sprinkled around the tables. Macie runs off to talk to them and I find a comfortable spot to sit and observe until it’s time to grab the pizzas.
Someone pulls up a seat next to me, asking, “So what exactlyisthe theme, here?”
“Astronaut tea party,” I answer with a laugh, turning to see that Colt is sitting next to me. My mouth drops when I see him. He’s dressed casually again, and the concept of that just seems so foreign to me. “What are you doing here?”
Holding up a glittery purple gift bag, he tells me, “You left your phone open when you were making the invitations.”
“Sorry,” I cringe. “I know I shouldn’t have done them on the clock.”
He looks toward my sister, grinning when he sees her outfit. “Don’t be sorry. This is great. You did all of this?”
Embarrassment creeps up the back of my neck in a wave of heat. “Yeah.”
“And your father…?”
Shaking my head, I quietly say, “Not here. Not coming, probably.” A defeated chuckle escapes me. “My boss could make it, but not her dad.”
“I’m not just your boss, Rowan,” he tells me.
“You’re not?”
Heat floods my chest, my heart slamming so hard I can see it. My eyes flick to his lips in silent invitation for him to make his move.
“I’d like to think we’ve become friends.”
Someone just walked through my insides and trampled all of the hope that lived in there. I don’t understand. In his office that day, I swore he was about to kiss me. Confess that he had feelings for me.Something. But now we’re just...friends? Doesn’t he get that, for me, showing up here falls under the category of grand gesture? Is he really that blind?
I give him a smile that I can feel doesn’t reach my eyes and say, “Yeah, friends. I should grab the pizzas before there’s a horde of starving children running loose.”
When I reach the counter to grab the stack of five pizzas, Colt reaches past me and grabs three of them. I shoot him a look with narrowed eyes, and he laughs.
“I think you’ve gotten too used to doing everything on your own. Let people help you.”
“I have not,” I argue.
He arches an eyebrow at me and opens his mouth, then decides against saying whatever he was going to, and he takes his stack to the center table instead. I follow, keeping a few feet away, with my own small stack, setting it down next to his.
It’s hard not to watch the way he helps the kids get their slices onto plates, the way that he speaks to them. He’s just…kind. I’m glad that, even in passing, even if he’s just my friend, my sister is getting glimpses of what a good man is.
The second that the pizza and cake are finished, Macie makes a mad dash for the pile of gifts waiting for her, tearing into them in almost identical fashion as she did her Christmas presents.
When I see her pull a glittery purple bag from the pile, my attention snaps directly to it. She yanks the tissue paper out and tosses it to the side before digging into it and pulling out a space rock excavation kit. Taped to the front is a gift card to the biggest toy store in our city.
“Space rocks!” She screams with a cackle as she shakes the box violently over her head.
Colt laughs and leans in to whisper to me, “I wasn’t sure what else to get a six year old with astronaut invitations.”
“You did good,” I whisper back with a smile, mindlessly putting my hand on his thigh.
I feel him tense under my touch, but he doesn’t move my hand away. I slide it just a touch closer to his inner thigh and give him a light squeeze. This is completely new to me – I don’t make moves on men. I don’t touch. But god, I want to touch him.
“Rowan,” he whispers in warning.
