“You have sisters?” Chloe asks, glancing up at me as Zach pulls the cake closer to start lighting the candles one at a time.
“I do,” I say, nodding. “I have three older sisters: Tessa, Sienna, and Darci. I’m the baby of the family.”
“I am, too!” she says, a grin splitting her face. “But, there’s only three of us, and not four.Oh!Can I wish for a baby sister for my birthday?”
Zach fumbles the lighter and it drops to the counter with a clatter. God, these girls are hilarious and keep their dad on his toes, clearly. He coughs, his eyes flashing up to mine briefly before returning to the cake as he finishes lighting the last two candles. “Uhh, no, Chlo. You may not wish for a baby sister for your birthday. Or a baby brother, for that matter.”
“Awww,” she whines, her little shoulders slumping.
I laugh then, patting her shoulder. “It’s better being the baby of the family anyway. I promise.”
“If you say so,” she mumbles, and I have the feeling she doesn’t believe me.
I grin again just as Zach pushes the cake forward across the counter toward Chloe, all the candles lit, the flames dancing. As one, we all sing a very off tune rendition of Happy Birthday, but based on the wide smile across Chloe’s face, she couldn’t care less how awful our collective singing is. She’s fairly dancing in her seat by the time we finish, and she looks expectantly up at her dad before taking a huge breath and blowing out all six candles.
“I wished for—”
“Don’t say it out loud!” Bailey screeches, waving her arms frantically at her little sister.“It won’t come true if you say it out loud!”
“Ooooohh,” Chloe breathes, nodding, eyes wide. “Got it!”
A chuckle rumbles out of Zach as he shakes his head just a little. He slides the cake back toward himself, plucking the spent candles out of the top and setting them aside. I lean on my forearms on the counter, still positioned between the two girls while he grabs a small stack of paper plates from one of the cupboards, then produces four forks from the drawer at his hip. A big butcher knife is next, and then he pauses, looking at me before holding out the handle of the knife in offering.
“It’s too pretty to cut into,” he says, and I laugh, nodding.
“That’s why you’re going to cut into it and I’m not.”
He rolls his eyes and flips the knife in his hand again. “That’s just mean.”
“You clearly don’t know me well enough yet. My sisters would tell you I’m the worst of the bunch and mean to boot,” I laugh.
He glances up at me after making several clean slices through the cake, and the way those blue eyes travel over my face andthen back to mine makes my breath hitch slightly. “I have a really hard time believing that, Louise.”
Six
Zach
It’s been four days since my new neighbor came over to eat birthday cake for breakfast with us, and I’ve spent far too much time in those four days obsessing over her.
An unhealthy amount of obsessing.
Louise Miller.
Princess.
My new,singleneighbor.
While digging into what was probably the most delicious cake I’ve ever tasted, I also learned that she just turned twenty-four.Twenty-fucking-four.
I’ve fully accepted that I’m probably going to hell. Because as a forty-year-old man, I should not be thinking about her the way I have been.
And as a forty-year-old man not yet fully divorced, I shouldabsolutely notbe thinking about her the way I have been.
Like when she used her index finger to swipe up some of the pink frosting on her slice of cake and then sucked the frosting off the pad of that finger in a way that made it hard to think.
Honestly, thinking wasn’t the only thing it made hard.
The rumble of a motorcycle engine pulls me from my thoughts as I step out of my truck, and twenty seconds later, my brother comes into view down the long stretch of road that runs parallel to the bay on the back of a black motorcycle. He makes a quick right turn down the hill toward where the station is situated down by the waterfront. Parking, he slings one leg over the leather seat and stands, placing his helmet on the seat before coming my way.
