And he just…disappeared.
A month later, his mother came to my door and gave me a two million dollar check to never have contact with her son again because he was better off without me.
Four years later, here I am, celebrating Christian’s birthday for the first time since.
I texted Julian last night to help me with today. He helped by waking Christian up at eight a.m. for a workout—even after he said he was going to sleep in—and promised me that he’d keep him there all day.
It’s now noon and the guys—Rowan, Nico, and Luca—are moving things around my patio to make room. Natalia is with me in the kitchen, finishing the frosting on the cake we made, while Isabelle and I make fresh lemonade for the hot summer day. And because there are no alcoholic beverages involved today. Forno one.
“You know,” Isa says, “you’re doing quite a lot for someone who?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence if you don’t want the shark to bite your head off,” Natalia says.
I gape at them. “I thought you said I was a good shark!”
Natalia shrugs, holding the piping bag delicately in her hands. “A shark still has sharp teeth.”
“Either way,” Isa goes on, “I also think it’s nice that you’re doing this for his birthday. He’s probably been miserable for the last four birthdays.”
“I’m sure he was fine,” I mutter, squeezing another lemon.
Isabelle mixes and sprinkles in some sugar, and mixes again. “More juice, Lana.”
I squeeze another and I hear a car door slam shut. I know it’s Julian’s because Christian would never slam his door that hard.Stupid car.I made Julian pick him up so Christian would be forced to wait around for a ride back.
Genius.
“Shit,” I hiss. “He’s here. Natalia!”
“It’s done, I’m just adding tiny hearts to dot the I’s for you.”
I groan and squeeze the last lemon. Isa stirs rapidly and calls out, “Nico! Luca!”
Nicolas comes running in, wide eyes on Isabelle—very unsubtle really. “What?”
Isabelle hands him the giant pitcher. “Take this and put it on the table with the other drinks.”
Nico takes it in his hands and scurries away at her orders. He’d fall to his knees if she asked him to.
Natalia sets down her piping bag and Isabelle dips her finger through the small bowl of frosting that was set aside andsucks on her finger. “Aww. Look, Lana,” Isa says, admiring the cake. “Look.”
“They’re about to come in?—”
“Look at the damn cake for a minute!”
Groaning, I stomp around the island and look down at the cake. “Are you kidding me?”
“What’s wrong with it? It’s delicious!” Natalia shouts at me.
“You wrote,‘Happy 27th Birthday Christian’with a bunch of hearts! Who are the hearts supposed to be from? Me?”
“You’re dumber than I thought.”
“Natalia.”
“Don’t worry,” she says, smirking deviously. “I made you one for later.”
“Natalia!” I whine.
