Her smile went a little dopey, and I smothered a laugh.
“I’m getting something out of this too. If the two of you are together—you are, right?”
“Oh, you know I locked that down.”
“Then that means I get both my friends back, and it’s not even my birthday!” My grin didn’t even make it all the way onto my face before it died.
Jessalyn understood why without a word. She settled beside me so we were both leaning against the side of my car.
“It’s Coach’s birthday—I mean your dad’s—today. So you still don’t know if he knew?”
“No, I know. At least, I think I know.” I told her about that last day in Chase’s garage. “I just can’t see him missing every moment of his son’s life and being able to live with himself. I mean, I know he cheated and that’s bad enough, but when I saw that picture from the day Brandon was born, I just knew.”
“It still sucks, though. Are you going to tell him?”
“I have to, don’t I?” I turned my head to her. “I’m certainly not going to do it on his birthday. Selena would never forgive me and I can’t do that to my mom. Not like that.”
“So, then…when?”
I didn’t have an answer for her.
* * *
Mom’s marble cake idea turned out solid light brown, which annoyed her to no end.
“I watched three hours of YouTube videos. It should have worked,” she said.
I felt another pang of guilt watching her slather icing on Dad’s birthday cake. She hated baking even more than she hated cooking. Dad had never had a homemade cake growing up, so every year since they’d gotten married—including the year Brandon was conceived—she made him one. She poured every bit of love she had for him into those cakes. She never held anything back from him, and if I could believe what she told me the other night, she never would.
I heard the front door open and close, then Selena’s voice. One of the candles I was unboxing snapped in my hand. I took a step toward the back door even as I craned my neck to glimpse my sister for the first time in days.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Mom called. She lowered her spatula when Selena appeared in the doorway. “Look,” Mom said as an aside to me, halting my quasi retreat. “She’s gotten taller. Doesn’t she look taller?”
Not taller, but her expression when it met mine was wary and the corners of her mouth were taut before she shifted her gaze to Mom and smiled.
“It hasn’t been that long, Mom.”
“I haven’t seen you in days.” Mom pointed the spatula at her. “Try that again and I’ll paddle your cute little butt off. Now come here.”
Selena obeyed and Mom peppered kisses on her face. “I missed you.” And that time her voice held a note of reproof.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Selena’s eyes flicked to me, and I took her meaning perfectly. It was my fault she’d had to stay away. I took another step toward the door. “I have an entire guest room to myself at Whitney’s, but I promise to come by more.”
“Good.” Mom swatted Selena. “Go hug your sister. She missed you too.”
Neither of us moved. We hadn’t been forced to hug and make up since we were little. A lot of that had to do with the fact that we almost never really fought, and when we did, we were terrible at holding a grudge. But we did as we were told, stiffly putting our arms around each other and releasing as quickly as we could get away with under Mom’s scrutiny.
Mom sighed but went back to icing the cake and put us to work finishing dinner. I chopped by rote, eyeing Selena and looking for…I didn’t know, anything to indicate that she was willing to talk to me again.
She said nothing.
“Gavin coming?” Mom asked.
“No, he had to work,” Selena said. “But I have our gift.” She nodded at a small wrapped cube on the table next to Mom’s present and the movie I’d picked out at the grocery store.
My gift—the original one, anyway—was upstairs in my room in a sealed envelope on my desk. And it would stay there until…until I could bear to give it to him.
Mom tossed me a lime after the vegetables were finished and I flinched catching it. She gave me a funny look but made no comment before returning to her own task. I couldn’t focus on what I was supposed to be making for dinner. I couldn’t focus on anything until I sliced my finger while chopping fresh coriander. I hissed as a drop of blood fell on the wooden cutting board. It wasn’t a deep cut, but Mom had my finger under cold water the second after I’d made a noise.
