Janet’s still whispering in the background, waiting for Angie to come back to squeal and dance to her singing like Mama does.
“Lourdes, let me take you back home to CeCe.”
Hearing him say both of our names is weird. They come out like he’d been dreading the day he would have to say them—especially Mama’s.
“Why?”
“Because I need to talk to Junior about some things you won’t understand. I want to get you back home safe. CeCe would kill me if I let something happen to you and I promised Marshall...”
“You promised Marshall what?”
“Let’s not talk about that right now. Just come on down and I’ll take care of Junior.”
The cold water douses my hand and I yank the glass from under the faucet. I shove it off to take a slurp. All his talk about “Junior” and “safety” has my mouth dry. He keeps talking about Ace like he’s not his son and like I couldn’t take care of him.
“Lourdes!” Ace yells from outside, giving my legs that urge they always get when he’s calling for me. “Bring those bags when you come back!”
His voice shakes as I stare at the intimidating shopping bags. They’re big, black, and have our favorite designer pressed into the paper: Dior.
“Lourdes...” Coach Williams’ voice drops. “Junior isn’t well enough to be pursuing this thing with you. I want to take you home—”
I yank the phone from my face and end the call. I can’t hear anymore. He sounds like the reporters, the random people on campus, like Blake Harvey, like Bryson, like Chelsea, like my brain before I saw Ace’s smile that day at practice. He doesn’t sound like home.
I snatch the shopping bags off the table and walk back to the patio, where Ace is still staring out into the city.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Ready for what?”
“To open your gifts.”
“But it’s not my birthday, it’s your mama’s.”
He pats his thighs, and I follow the sounds, gripping the glass and bags. “Come here. Let me talk to you.”
More butterflies flutter in my stomach as I stumble over to him and climb back into his lap.
I don’t bring up Coach Williams and neither does he, but my mouth gets dry again because now I know why they can’t see eye to eye on such an important day and I want to know what he promised Marshall.
He pries the glass from my fingers, taking a sip.
When he pulls it back, he smiles. “Water?”
“Yeah…your co-pilot says ‘enough.’” My fingers crawl through his low curls while he laughs with a wet face that just won’t stay dry.
It doesn’t matter how many times I swipe my fingers and lips across it. The tears keep falling while I keep waiting for the boy Coach Williams described on the phone to pop out.
“Now why you buying me gifts on your mama’s birthday?” I mutter. “We supposed to celebrate her today.”
“We are.” He pries the shopping bag’s strings from my fingers and pulls me into his chest. “You know, before there was Planet Ace, there was a place called Angie’s World. In Angie’s World, birthdays are days for giving—not to yourself, but to the people who give so much and never get anything back.”
My body sinks into his and I realize there’s nothing better than sitting on a penthouse balcony overlooking the city while listening to Ace talk about his mama like she’s still here.
“Oh, yeah?” I whisper. “How that work?”
“On her thirty-ninth birthday, she sent Gus and his wife back home to Negril. On her fortieth birthday, she invested in her favorite nail tech and helped open Uptown Nails...”
I twist in his arms, swiping at another wild tear on his cheek. “And what about the next one?”
