She snatches up her fork and stuffs her face with several huge bites of what’s left on her plate. I guess I can take that as a ‘yes’.
*****
After a jam-packed day of shopping, eating, and admiring the holiday decorations around town, Fergus picks Jordy and me up at seven to take us to Connelly’s.
As Jordy chatters away to Fergus from the back of the car, I relax into my seat, watching the city lights speed by in a blur of colors. If someone had told me a few months ago that I’d have a seventeen-year-old not only living with me but also attending my thirty-fifth birthday party, I would have laughed myself silly. As responsible and mature as I consider myself, I didn’t think I was equipped to be a stand-in parent to anyone, even someone who’s almost technically an adult herself.
The irony is that, despite all the responsibilities in my life, having Jordy live with me these last two weeks has made me feel like a teenager again in some ways. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much, ate so much, or had so many late nights marathon-watching TV shows when I knew I should be in bed. Added to that are the butterflies I experience whenever Spencer is around. I haven’t experienced this light, bubbly feeling in ages. Maybe ever.
“You all right, lass?” Fergus’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
Before I can answer, Jordy lets out a delighted giggle. “You said ‘lass’! I’ve always wondered if Scottish people really say that.”
“Aye, I do say it.” Fergus unfastens his seatbelt and twists to look at Jordy. I was so lost in thought, I hadn’t even realized we’d arrived at the pub. “And ‘aye’. And ‘wee’. Any others you’d like to hear?”
I laugh to myself as I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car. Jordy and Fergus continue their rapid-fire banter on our way inside. I tune in and out as nervous excitement fires up in my belly, and my legs climb the stairs on autopilot. I’m not surewhyI’m nervous; crowds don’t usually bother me, but then I’m rarely the center of attention, and I will be tonight. And if I’m being honest, I’m anxious about seeing Spencer again after our kisses the other night, followed by his instant regret.
Jordy grabs my hand as we approach the open door to the pub’s back room, where the party is being held. For a second, I’m worried she’s going to back out and ask if she can go home, but her face is lit with excitement. I yank on her hand until her body bumps into mine and then I release my grip and wrap my arms around her. She laughs, throwing her arms around me and holding on tight. I meet Fergus’s eyes over Jordy’s head; his smile is tinged with a hint of sadness. I close my eyes and grip Jordy tighter, knowing that the same sadness is likely reflected in my own eyes. With all my mental might, I push away the question that fights for my attention: how am I ever going to say goodbye to her next week?
Jordy makes a squeaking sound in my ear. “Too tight, Hols. Too tight.” She laughs as I loosen my hold and step back. Her eyes scan my face and, as if reading my thoughts, she says, “We still have a week together. We’ll make it the best week ever, but tonight is aboutyou. Forget about everything else and just have fun.”
I nod, blowing out a long, slow breath and turning back toward the door. The mixed sounds of voices and music float out, making me smile. The smile grows when Louisa appears in the doorway.
“There you are!” She pauses to call over her shoulder that I’m here, and within seconds, Evie and Stella join her in the doorway, and I’m enveloped in a massive group hug from my best friends. The next few minutes are a whirlwind as I introduce Jordy to the girls and they fuss over her, telling her how happy they are to finally meet her and how pretty she looks in the sparkly midnight blue dress she bought today. They usher us inside the back room, telling me to go say hi to people while they introduce Jordy to some other guests and get her a non-alcoholic drink from the bar.
I’m passed from person to person and group to group, accepting hugs, kisses, and well wishes. My eyes repeatedly sting with tears and my face aches from smiling and laughing so much. I notice nearly everyone around me has a cocktail of some sort a second before Stella swings by and places a Manhattan in my hand.
The first time I have a second alone, I take a huge gulp of my drink. I’ve been keeping an eye on Jordy since we arrived; she’s currently standing with Fergus and Louisa, listening intently to something Fergus is saying. Across the room, Evie announces that servers are about to circulate with trays of finger food. I swivel to face the back where I assume the food will be coming from, putting me face to face with Spencer.
“Oh! Hi!” Surprise and excitement have my voice coming out in a strangely high pitch.
“Hello, Hollie.” He leans forward, and I expect him to hug me or maybe even kiss my cheek, but he immediately straightens. If the contrite look that follows is any indication, I have a feeling he senses my confusion and disappointment. “Happy birthday.” This time when he leans in, he follows through by kissing my cheek and giving me a too-quick hug. “You look lovely.”
I thank him and scan his outfit: dark trousers and a turquoise dress shirt. I have to think the color choice was in my honor since he knows turquoise is my favorite. I’m about to comment on it when he breaks eye contact and glances around the room, shifting from foot to foot. “Good turn out. Not that I’m surprised, of course. I expected people to jump at the chance to celebrate with you. Oh, there’s Jordy, I ought to go say hello. Will you excuse me?”
And then he’s gone as quickly as he appeared.
“Okay then,” I murmur to myself. Guess that answers my question about whether things between us would be weird after our kiss.
Refusing to let it spoil my good mood, I return to circulating. Wesley is in charge of the music and is playing a mix of songs that were clearly created with me in mind. I stuff my face with everything that’s offered to me by passing servers. My friends decided to carry over the British theme from my tea party last month by curating a menu based on some of my favorite British foods—tiny newspaper-wrapped bundles with fish and chips, cheese and onion pasties, bacon sarnies, sausage rolls, and more. Even though people keep offering to get me something from the bar, I pace myself, not wanting to get too tipsy too soon.
This night is absolutely perfect except for one thing: the fact Spencer is avoiding me. Any time I catch his eye, he looks away quickly. If we’re anywhere near each other, he suddenly finds a reason to duck away or someone else to talk to. After an hour of this, I let my friends pull me onto the dance floor, pleased when Jordy agrees to join us.
As soon as I start dancing, all my thoughts fade away. It’s just me, my friends, and the music. It feels so good to let loose. Dancing has always been an outlet and a refuge for me; I have countless wonderful memories of my friends and me making up dance routines to all our favorite songs. Mixed in with those recollections are faded memories of my mom and me dancing around the house when I was younger. After she left, I’d lock myself in my bedroom and blast my music, letting it fill the empty spaces in the house and inside me as I thrashed around the room to the point of exhaustion.
Time passes in a blur of moving bodies, shouted lyrics, and colorful lights from the projectors around the room. Jordy has just spun me around for what feels like the hundredth time when my gaze catches on Spencer. He’s standing across the room, arms folded over his chest, watching us. I wobble in place, throwing out my arms to catch my balance. I expect to see amusement on his face, the same expression he wore the night he saw Jordy and me dancing in the diner office, but his face remains serious, eyes glittering in the dark. I could swear desire flashes across his face, but it’s gone quickly, making me wonder if it was my imagination or perhaps a trick of the lights.
I peel myself away from the group of dancers, informing the people closest to me that I need a drink. Stella offers to get one for me, but I tell her I need a minute to catch my breath anyway. When Spencer sees me headed in his direction, he straightens, his arms falling to his sides. He looks almost panicked, as if he wants to dash away like he’s done all night, make some excuse about why he needs to be anywhere else.
“It’s bad form to avoid the birthday girl,” I say, stopping in front of him.
“I wasn’t…that’s not…you’re not…” He snaps his mouth shut, cutting off his stammering. After a long sigh, he nods once and says, “My apologies.”
“If this is about the other night, I was being honest when I said I didn’t regret kissing you.”
“That’s not it.” He must sense my disbelief because he adds, “Not entirely, anyway. I’m still dealing with family and business issues. It’s put me in a foul mood and I didn’t want to take it out on you. Again.” He offers me a rueful smile.
“Anything I can help with?”
