“You did this?”
“Not just me,” I told her. “I put the call out and told them to bring stuff. I’m just finishing your pancakes now.”
She giddily sat down at the table and I brought the pancake tray over and popped it in the middle of the table.
I piled her plate with a few cakes and pushed the fruit and sauces her way.
“This is amazing, you really went all out,” she said, the joy clear in her eyes. I was glad I could do at least that for her.
“Everyone deserves to celebrate their birthday,” I told her.
“When’s your birthday?” she asked me. I never celebrated it because it always brought bad memories.
“It’s passed.”
“Well, everyone has a passed birthday, when is the next one for you?”
I could barely contain my chuckle as I looked over at her just as she popped a forkful of pancakes in her mouth and waited.
“December 3rd.”
A smile passed over her then and she continued to eat. “I’ll remember that.”
She wouldn’t. By the time it came around, she’d be free and I would be but a distant memory. Why then did that make me feel like I had severe heartburn?
“Who gave me presents?” she asked, looking at the bright pastel colour scheme.
“Your sister and some of the girls at the club,” I told her. “The one at the end is from me.”
Her head snapped to me then. “You didn’t have to get me anything. You made me this incredible meal.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s not much. You should have nice things while you’re holed up inside. Your drinks are chilling in the fridge.”
An excited squeal erupted from her and she eagerly ate her breakfast. It made me feel good to see her happy and excited. I didn’t understand it but
Once we were done, she moved over to unwrap the gifts. She carefully undid the tissue paper so it didn’t rip, not at all like I would assume she’d be when unwrapping gifts for her birthday. There was something so…delicate about it. Shona had gotten her perfume and I could see it had the wordFlowerbombon it. No wonder she always smelled like flowers. The girls had given her a set of Chuck Taylors and some hair ties and assorted hair products.
“Can I open yours?” she asked, hovering near the black bag.
“Of course.”
She pulled the items from the bag and smiled as she flipped through the cookbook. “Is this your way of telling me to pull my weight around here?”
“No,” I laughed. “You just seemed impressed by my cooking so I figured I’d give you something with the same recipes in there.”
She smirked when she saw the cocktail book. “Thank you, Kendrick, this is amazing.”
Hearing my name come from her mouth was making me hard even if it wasn’t a breathy moan that I was dying to hear tumble from her lips. I was teetering on the edge here with all her smiles and squeals of excitement, knowing it was me who made her so fucking happy in the first place.
“What’s your favourite recipe in here?” she asked me after I started to clear the table.
“Probably the cabbage and potato stew,” I told her. “She used to always make that for me and it just always felt like home, ya know?”
Her confusion was evident when she looked down at the cover. “When you say the same kind of recipes…you don’t actually mean…”
“Yeah,” I told her. “That’s my grandma’s cookbook. She had it published.”
Darby’s mouth fell open and she flipped through the book. “This is amazing. So your family is like, famous or something?”
