“It’s not dumping money,” I tell him. “It’s investing. And considering how successful you are, it’s a smart, proven investment, too.”
Nicholas turns to me. “I appreciate that,” he says. “I know you’re prudent about this kind of thing, too.”
Glad he sees me that way, I nod. He seems to want my advice, which feels nice. He’s the one with the proven success. “You’ve nearly paid off your loans,” I remind him. “You can continue investing that money in your business if you need to. And you already know that the booth is profitable. I think this is smart.”
“I was considering hiring a marketing team for an extra boost,” he says, brightening a bit.
“Then you should do it,” I tell him confidently.
“Maybe I will,” he says and drops a few flowers into their holders. “It will be another task on my list this week. But I’ll have my thirtieth on Saturday, so there will be a celebration after all the extra work.” He spins and looks at me, eyes wide. “Oh my god. You’re going to be there and everyone is going to know.”
I grunt. “Everyone is going to know everywhere in the neighborhood.”
Nicholas nods. “Yeah, but it’s my thirtieth birthday party. All the attention will be on me. And, by extension, us. It’s how birthdays work, for better or worse.”
I frown, thinking about it. “Do I need to do anything about that? Or can I still drink a beer and leave?”
“You don’t have to do anything.” He begins efficiently snipping away again. “Although to make sure you have proper context, the Menagerie isn’t exactly a bar. It’s the local sex club! They’re normally closed during daylight hours, but they have a gorgeous garden out back, so they’re letting us hold an afternoon event there.” He snips a few more stems. “And I forwarded you the invitation, right? You saw that everyone’s dressing like their favorite flower? Conceptually.”
“Yeah, I saw. And dressing like flowers was a funny joke to put at the end of the invitation,” I say flatly.
Nicholas laughs. “No joke. Flowers are the theme of the day. There will be flower-inspired cocktails and treats. Of course plenty of bouquets. And all my favorite people in outfits and costumes inspired by their chosen flower.”
My face falls. “Seriously?” I rub my hand over my face. “Fucking hell. You know I’m happy to celebrate your birthday with you. But that’s a lot.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not telling you that you have to dress like a flower. I’m just highlighting that everyone else will be dressed like flowers.”
I grumble under my breath. No way in hell I’m doing that.
Except he probably wants me to do it.
Fuck.
I stew for a while as the roses scratch me. Dressing up like a flower and going to a sex club will make me feel like a fool. Butit’s his thirtieth birthday, so maybe not dressing up like a flower would make me an asshole.
So much easier when I just keep to myself.
“Nicholas! Oh, there you are!”
I turn and see two people, clearly his parents, emerging from the rear of the house.
Nicholas’s mom has his hair, and almost the same short, choppy haircut, too. She’s tall, the same height as Nicholas’s dad, who has his son’s round cheeks and hazel eyes. They’re both wearing sneakers and carrying backpacks, and they each have something of Nicholas’s movements immediately recognizable in how they carry themselves.
Nicholas drops his snippers and pulls off his gloves. “Mom, Dad! You’re back.” He turns and gestures to me with a smile.
“The infamous Clay,” his mom says and offers her hand, which I take after shucking my gloves. “I’m Luana.”
Infamous?
I meet her eye, not about to fuck this up. “Clay. My pleasure.” I turn to his father. “You—” Damn, what am I trying to say? “You both have a great home.”
“Reymond,” he says cheerfully and clasps my hand. “And thank you!”
“Do you have a library card, Clay?” Luana asks me.
I tighten my brow, not sure I heard her. “Excuse me?”
“Do you have a library card?” she asks again, smiling as sincerely as Nicholas does.
