“It’s not funny.” Ellie looks up at him. “We’re freezing out here.”
“It’s a little funny.” He says before grabbing the door handle, gesturing to Ellie and Riley to go inside. “We should’ve gone inside in the first place instead of standing out here in the cold.”
I stop, waiting for him to walk inside before I do.
“Go on, princess.” He jerks his head.
“Always a gentleman, Mr. Williams.”
“Only for you.” He follows me.
The restaurant buzzes with people in the lobby, at the bar, and at tables. Waiters pass through the crowds with trays filled with food.
“Rowan,” Mom shouts, holding her arms out. “Thank you for coming sweetie.”
“I wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world, Mrs. Thompson.”
We all exchange greetings with each other, and I watch the way Mom and Riley greet each other.
Riley has a closer relationship with my mom than she does with her own. Moms always looked after Riley as if she were her own. Sometimes, both Riley and Hailey would come over for the holidays, with Christmas presents waiting for them under the tree.
Mom’s head tips back, and she lets out a laugh before looking at Riley. “When are you going to find a man and settle down?”
I roll my lips inward, smothering a laugh at Riley’s expression. She presses her lips together while her eyes widen at the comment.
She shrugs one shoulder. “Oh, uh, you know, I’m not sure. There hasn’t been a man who can handle me, I guess.”
“Hi, Mom.” I tilt my head in her direction, saving Riley.
“Oh! August, my favorite son.” She gives me a tight hug, rubbing my back in comfort.
“I’m your only son,” I retort.
“Still my favorite.” She puts her hands on my shoulders.
“Hey.” Ellie inserts herself. “I’m right here.”
“Baby boy trumps older sister,” I say. “I don’t make the rules.”
“You’re both my favorite,” Mom says.
I lean toward Ellie and whisper, “She’s just saying that to be nice.”
“No,” Ellie whispers. “She’s just saying that, so you won’t go home and cry in bed later.”
“Yeah, well, why would she make me chocolate chip pancakes every Saturday for me? Because they’remyfavorite.”
“Uh, no. She made them for me every Saturday morning because they’remyfavorite. Why do you think I always got an extra one?”
Mom turns to us with an exasperated look on her face. “If you two don’t quit it, neither of you will get a chocolate chip pancake ever again.”
“Sorry,” we murmur in unison.
“You’re such a baby,” Ellie whispers with a hiss.
“No, you are.” I flick her ear.
Ellie smacks my chest.
