Page 64 of Stealing Blinds

Happy birthday, Sly. Cheers to the memories we’ve made and to the even better ones in store. When you look in the mirror today, remember, you are a treasure.

Yours,

Cash

I’ll give it to him; he pulls out all the stops.

The bottom of the note reminds me to get ready because I have a meeting with Axel at eleven. I check the time on my phone and see it’s already ten, so I scurry into the bathroom.

And my jaw hits the floor.

This is thirty is scrawled in lipstick on the top of the mirror, with the word mine adorning the spot where Cash made me come.

It’s ridiculous, but my cheeks flush with the recollection of everything that occurred right there.

Of course, that’s the second my phone starts buzzing in my hand with a request for a video chat. It’s my mother, so I don’t hesitate to answer in my disheveled state.

“What kind of mood are we welcoming thirty with?” she begins.

“Decent. Shocked. A little giddy.”

“Okay,” she chirps. “Then I’m going to pounce and wish you a happy birthday. I’m so grateful to call you mine, sweet girl. Now spill. You have a glow about you.”

Certain she’ll eat this up, I turn so she has my face and the massive, possessive message behind me in the frame.

“Does that say … mine?”

“Yep.”

“Was he an invited guest in that bathroom when he graffitied his territory or …”

“There may have been a brief invitation.” I prop my phone against the mirror and move to the sink to wash my face.

While I’m getting ready for the day, I fill her in on everything about last night, starting with the girls and the Underground and taking her all the way up until this morning, skipping over very few details.

Our relationship might seem strange to some. We’re best friends first and mother-daughter second. That’s partly because we had to be.

We essentially started over after my dad was sentenced, opting not to be ousted in our community for being a convict’s family. In a situation like that, you find out fast who your friends are. And the list was … empty. There was also a media spectacle. Reporters camped out all over town, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman believed to be guilty but the object of my father’s steadfast devotion. So, who could really blame people for ducking for cover?

My mother managed to re-create us so that, other than the FBI and a few of my father’s associates who kept tabs on us, no one knew who we used to be. Using her maiden name and becoming someone else meant no one was safe to befriend though. Not for us to tell secrets to or let down our guards. It was my mom, me, and Flora against the world, doing everything we could to be a family my father would be proud of. Something for him to fight for.

And it was enough.

“So, let’s recap.” She drinks her coffee and pins me with a smart-ass glare from her office that doesn’t have a single thing packed up in it. “We’ll breeze past how the man has been chasing you all over the country for months and focus solely on your birthday. He planned an evening for you to relax, he was generous in the best way a man can be giving, he refused to let you reciprocate, he had a new wardrobe and breakfast greet you when you woke up, and he wrote mine on the bathroom mirror, but you’re not sure what he wants?”

“No.” I pat on some moisturizing highlighter beneath my eyes. “I know exactly what he wants. But he doesn’t. The idea of a girlfriend—especially one he’s had to work for—is the equivalent of a shiny new thing. He hasn’t used that word, and I doubt he could, but even if he’s eager to, the whole idea will eventually get dull. And I’m not in a place to hold his hand while he realizes that his first attempt at a relationship is more than he can handle.”

“He seemed certain to me. Maybe more certain than he even comprehends.”

His declaration during my fake panic attack flits through my mind. “I would never leave you on the table, Sylvie Palmer.” I need to pretend I didn’t hear it though, like I claimed.

“You just love him because he’s a Noire.” I leer at her. “Do you remember what you told me when I started dating Danny? ‘Once a player, always a player. Keep both eyes on that one.’ And I should’ve listened.”

“I do appreciate back pay on my parenting advice, but I am going in a different direction with this one. With good reason. Cash didn’t try to tell me what he thought I wanted to hear, but he also couldn’t hide how taken he was with you. He was respectful—”

“Starstruck,” I correct while applying my mascara.

“Enamored with you. And mature. When I asked Danny whether he was serious about you, he winked and said, ‘Chill, Mrs. P.’ Someone telling me to chill is a glaring red flag. I’m a delight.”