Hunter jogs to catch up to me on the sidewalk, and we head toward the duplex. I almost sigh in relief when he reaches out and takes my hand in his. He’s seemed off today—not coming into the bakery and keeping his distance in the parking lot. Having his fingers intertwined with mine is the reassurance I need that we’re still okay.
“Sorry you had a bad day,” I say, hesitant, because tension still hovers around him. Is it possible Colette called him again?
Hunter lifts one shoulder and gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Like I said, I hate April Fool’s Day. But not all my coworkers felt the same. I had a ton of work to do, and it didn’t help to have a bunch of the staff pulling stupid pranks all day.”
“I’m sorry.” I grimace, but I’m relieved it’s merely pranks that have him acting like this. After a moment, I ask, “I don’t love it either, but why do you hate it so much?”
Hunter’s fingers flex around mine. “We’re about to go to a party, and I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I’ll tell you later if you truly want to know.”
My curiosity burns—someone must have really pranked him hardcore as a kid—but I nod. “Okay.”
We turn and start walking up the sidewalk to the condo.
“What is this party like, anyway? Is Lou going to serve us jellybeans that taste like grass or make us do anything weird?” he asks.
I glance over as he reaches for the door and opens it for me. “No. I thought you knew what it’s for?”
We walk into the foyer, and I can hear the voices of my family and closest friends in the living room and kitchen. It smells like chicken, tomatoes, and garlic, and there is music playing somewhere; I recognize one of my favorite songs from high school.
“It’s not an April Fool’s Day party?” he asks.
“No, it’s my—”
“Happy New Life Day!” Talia shouts, rushing over to me and grabbing me into a hug.
Hunter’s eyebrows furrow. If he thought it was an April Fool’s Day party, he’s probablysoconfused.
I want to explain, but Talia takes me by the arm and drags me into the living room. There are balloons tied to the banister of the staircase, and I can see my mom in the kitchen with Lou. My brothers sit on the couch, their legs stretched out in front of them. When I try to walk by, they both jump up and sandwich me, wrapping their arms around me from both sides. A Karlsson squeeze, like we did after Dad died. I made it up to help them when they were crying or sad because they missed him. After I got sick, they did it to comfortme.
“Happy New Life Day, Livarooni,” they chorus as they practically crush me.
I laugh, even as I gasp to try to get enough air. “Can’t ... breathe ...”
“The food is almost ready!” Mom calls from the kitchen. Based on the mouth-watering aroma, I’m guessing she andLou made chicken Parmesan, one of my favorite meals. “Could someone help me carry out the salad?”
Cory and Cameron let me go and rush to resume their spots on the couch.
Hunter hovers near the stairs, unsmiling, his face a mask.
I want to go to him, but then Lou squeals from behind me. “Liv! Come meet Chris. He’s in the kitchen. Your mom put him right to work.”
I give my brothers a look—a why-are-you-slugs-sitting-on-the-couch-when-a-guest-is-workinglook—and they both shrug.
“I’m exhausted from studying for finals,” Cory offers.
I roll my eyes and head into the kitchen. A man stands by the stove, holding a serving platter as Mom dishes the chicken Parmesan onto it. He’s medium height, probably close to six feet, with close-cropped dark hair, warm brown eyes, and a wide smile.
“You must be Liv,” he says. “It’s great to finally meet. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Likewise.” I smile back. “Thanks for coming ... and for letting my family immediately put you to work.”
I lift my eyebrows at Mom, but she merely smiles serenely back at me. “We have to make sure he’s worthy of our Lou. And a man who will help in the kitchen is worth his weight in gold. Any boy who refuses to help should be a big red flag.”
“I heard that!” Cameron calls from the family room.
“Then get off your heinie, get in here, and switch your flag back to green!” Mom shoots right back.
Even though I didn’t really want them to do a party for me, now that I’m here, inhaling the tantalizing scent of dinner, surrounded by my closest loved ones (and Chris), I can’t help but smile. A wave of warmth washes over me. I’movercome by gratitude for my life—for the fact that Iamalive.
