Something that makes my chest ache.
Because that’s what I have with Anton. That look. That ease.
And he’s not here.
“Mary!” Grandma’s voice cuts through. She’s waving me over. “Come here. Let me look at you.”
I cross the room. She takes my hands. Studies me from head to toe.
“Beautiful,” she says simply. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“Jasper did all the work.”
“Jasper dressed you. But you’re the one wearing it.” She touches my cheek. “Thirty looks good on you, Mary-Cat.”
My eyes burn. “Does it?”
“It does.”
Ruth appears with a plate. “Eat. You’ve barely eaten today.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat anyway.”
I take the plate. Mini sandwiches. Fruit. A slice of cake that’s definitely Grandma’s recipe.
Lev materializes at my elbow. “Boss would want you to eat.”
“Boss isn’t here.”
“He will be.”
I want to believe that. Want to believe he’s walking through that door any second.
But he’s not.
And I’m turning thirty without him.
Jasper appears at my other side, surveying the room. “This is officially the straightest party I’ve ever thrown. There’s not a single boa in sight. I’m embarrassed.”
“There are balloons,” I point out.
“Pink balloons. That’s the bare minimum.” He gestures at Lev and Dima. “And those two look like they’re guarding a witness, not celebrating. Where’s theenergy?”
“The energy is watching two Russian mobsters try not to touch anything in your boutique.”
“Fair point. That is mildly entertaining.” He sips his champagne. “Still. Next year, we’re doing this properly. Feathers. Glitter.
A theme.” “Next year I’ll have a baby.”
“Even better. Baby’s first pride parade.” He turns to the others. “Alright, everyone!” Jasper claps his hands. “Time for presents!”
“We’re doing presents?”
“Of course we’re doing presents. What kind of birthday doesn’t have presents?”
He starts pulling out gift bags. Grandma’s is first—a hand-knitted baby blanket. Soft. Yellow. Perfect.
