“No.” I laugh. “But you could’ve at leastsaidhappy birthday.”
“I did,” he shoots back. “By paying the check.”
“Yeah, that’s just sad,” a woman’s voice chimes from the doorway. Amy suddenly comes bounding into my office like she’s made of helium, her heels barely hitting the floor.
“Hi, Amy,” I drawl out. I have no idea how the woman functions at this time of day with such lightness in her movements. I’m usually dragging along like I’m chained to a block of concrete.
“Hi, Wes.” She greets me with a smile as she takes a seat on Parker’s lap. Normally, I might think that’s a little much, but there’s no other chairs in my office, so better on him than me. “So … birthday parties? How do you feel about them? What kind of themes do you like? I was thinking we’d go all out since you haven’t had one in a while.”
“Um…” I feel pure overwhelm. “I don’t know?”
“We could do an eighties theme? Or maybe the nineties? We could do a murder mystery game? I need to knoweverythingyou like. We’re going to make this epic.”
I look past her to Parker, who looks like the entire shenanigan is worthy of awe. He’s in so deep with her, and I can’t even be mad about it. It’s just too freaking adorable to see Parker in love.
“Well? Themes?” she urges, tapping my shin with her foot to get my attention. “I just need to know the things you like.”
“I don’t know what I like.”
“Oh my gosh,” she groans, tipping her head back and giving Parker a face full of dark locks. “I don’t understand. How can you not know what you like?”
“Maybe because I’ve never had a birthday party as an adult.” I grunt, my eyes flickering up at the clock. “But Idohave a bedtime I don’t want to miss.”
“You’re becoming a Parker. You need to find love.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks, Gandhi.”
“Themes,” she repeats herself.
“Themes,” Parker echoes, giving me thatyou better answer herexpression.
I let out a heavy breath. “I like the nineties—that’s a pretty cool idea. I don’t think I want to do a murder mystery; I’d never get it solved. I didn’t watch those kinds of shows, and I don’t think there’ll be enough people there for that to work.”
“Okay, so the nineties it is, then?”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I give in. “Let’s go with it.”
“Perfect!” she squeals, then quickly dives into a whole planning session for a birthday party I didn’t ask for. Her questions just keep coming, and we discuss everything from cake to decorations to the guest list.
I keep reminding myself that Brittany will potentially be there, and that’s what keeps me pressing forward as the minutes turn to an hour, and then two. None of my coding work gets done, but by the time the clock strikes nine-thirty, I know I’m not going back to it. I’ll be lucky to make it home without falling asleep walking there.
In fact, by the time we’re heading out of the office, I’ve already ordered an Uber. I bid Amy and Parker goodbye, and make sure to thank her for all the party planning and what not. Even if it’s a little foreign, it’s probably going to be fun.
Maybe it’ll impress Brittany.
That thought has my stomach fluttering with nerves. I don’t know if she’ll find it impressive or sad. Either way, maybe at least we can laugh about it? I let out a sigh as I climb into the back of an Uber and make the mostly silent ride to my apartment. I thank the driver, climb out, and disappear into my building. And as I walk past the mailroom I realize…
I might have mail.
I haven’t checked my emails for any notifications when it comes to USPS. I stick my key in the lock, and turn it, opening the little mailbox. Sure enough, there’s a letter.
And I nearly pass out with pure joy.
I grab it and grin at the familiar curly feminine handwriting on the front. However, as much as I want to tear it open right here and now, I wait until I’m upstairs and inside my place so I can set my things down and give it my full attention. Polly, the stuffed Siamese cat watches as I carefully pull out the handmade card. I stare at the small letters at the top.
It’s Make Up Your Own Holiday Day, so…
Happy WESTON IS AWESOME Day!
