“Daniel?”
The white-stained doorway framed him, giving him the appearance of a painted portrait, perfect and smudged in all the right places. She’d been struck by his good looks before, butdamn. They knocked her sideways, robbing her of her breath. He glowed, but not from the sunshine or his golden hair. This haze of light started from the inside and spread outward, cracking the darkness of her home.
“Surprise!”
And he was holding a birthday cake. A goddamn birthday cake with shoddily spread icing, set on a plastic plate sagging under the weight of the lopsided construction. In an unsteady hand,HappyBirthday Samanthawas scrawled on the top layer in grainy, pink frosting.
She shattered. The values she’d drilled into herself—conceal your weaknesses and emotions are weaknesses. Don’t humiliate yourself with something as illogical and embarrassing as showing people how they affect you—all fell away. Tears, hot and grateful, slipped down her cheeks as she wrangled a response.
“I didn’t tell you it was my birthday.”
Confusion furrowed Daniel’s brow as she wiped her face with her sleeves, desperately scrubbing away the evidence of her tears.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“It’s nothing. It’s stupid. I’m—”
I’m falling for you and if I do then I’ll lose everything. I need to win my dad’s attention and if I can win him over, Thomas will come back around. Breaking your heart is the only way I can repair this stupid, broken family of mine. But you’re the best guy I’ve ever met—the best person I’ve ever met—which means I’ve got to be the worst person who’s ever walked this earth.
“Did I do something?”
And you made me a goddamn birthday cake.
“No.” Sam sniffled and tried to reach for her coat. A speedy getaway was best. “Can we get out of here?”
“You’re not getting out of this.” Daniel blocked her with his strong body, almost knocking her down with his intoxicating scent and too-big, too-tender eyes. “What’s wrong?”
There was no hope of hiding from him. Not now. Not when the only thing between them was the only homemade birthday cake she’d ever had. He’d thought of her and made it. That thoughtfulness killed her, and it compelled her to give him the truth. Well, more of the truth than she was normally willing to give him.
“They didn’t want to celebrate it. Well, my dad forgot and my brother just doesn’t want to celebrate it.”
“Your birthday?”
“Mm-hmm.” She nodded. Her confirmation seemed to age him ten years, new worry lines sprouted on his forehead. Dammit, he thought this was real. He thought this was all real. Worse still, his concern for her was real. “Shit, I’m sorry, I—”
“Theydon’t want to celebrateyour birthday? Where are they? Where the fuck are they?”
“Daniel.” She placed a hand on his heaving chest, waiting until his heartbeat slowed to a manageable pace before pleading, “Please. I want to be somewhere else.”
More than anything, she wanted to besomeoneelse, but transformation wasn’t a dream he could help her achieve. Getting away from the judgmental walls of her house, with their condescending portraits and reflective mirrors, would be the next best thing. It took him a moment before he collected himself well enough to speak. Balancing the birthday cake on one hand, he reached for his phone, shooting off a text before gesturing to the car, anger clouding his sunny face.
“I know just the place.”
The car pulled up in front of a modest house, a post-war British construction copied and pasted from every other bungalow on the block. A modest garden sprouted behind a stone fence; smoke puffed from the chimney. In the distance behind the fading orange roof, trees yawned upward, poking the sky with their green arrowhead tops. In short, it was exactly what Sam expected, which didn’t explain Daniel’s slumped shoulders.
“Well, this is me,” he muttered, ducking his head to get out of his car.
“This is your house?”
“Yeah. You know.” He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, jangled his keys, walked too fast… Basically did everything short of sayingI’m embarrassed for you to see this is where I live. “We’ll move somewhere better if I sign with Icon.”
“It’s nice,” Sam said, meaning it. What she wouldn’t have given to live in a house like this when she was younger. Memories of cold apartments and foster bunk beds fluttered like snow around her temples, melting into her brain.
“It’s not a mansion.”
“But it’s yours.”
“C’mon.” The key struggled in the lock as he fought to balance the cake in one arm while fighting to open it up. He gave it a push and led Samantha inside the humble living room.
