Page 82 of The Write Off

As if on cue, Anna calls from the kitchen, “Uncle Logan, do you have a fire extinguisher? No reason.”

Anna and Travis have banned me from the kitchen, telling me they’re working on something top secret that is definitely not cake-related. Rilla is already on the move saying “I hid the matches, but just in case, I’ll take care of it!” She jogs into the kitchen.

Confident in both my girlfriend’s ability to tame my pyromaniac niece and that nothing is actually on fire, I turn my attention back to the book. It looks like it just came off the press. Not a single scratch on it. I’m sure if I slipped off the glossy cover I’d find a perfect, crease-free spine. Carefully, I lift the front cover, running my hand over the smooth blank paper. I turn to the title page and find an inscription.

To Logan,

The finest editor and best friend a man could ask for. You’re the son I never had but always wanted, and I’m so proud of you.

Stuart

My throat tightens and I swallow hard. The uncommon, but unmistakable sting of tears makes me blink several times. I haven’t cried since the night we lost Eric. I open my mouth, but the words don’t come.

Stuart appears to be battling his own emotions. He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes on the floor.

I don’t know how to respond to such a beautiful gift, and I’m not just talking about the book. He’s been a mentor and friend, and more of a father than Dr. Carmichael ever was.

Not knowing the right thing to say, I do what feels right, stepping forward and putting my arms around him.

“Thank you,” I say.

“No, thank you.” His voice is a bit more hoarse than usual. He claps me on the back just as there is another knock at the door.

“Hey. The fun people have arrived,” Callum says when I open the door. “And we brought Josh, too.”

Maggie, Betty, Callum, and Josh all pile through the door, each one stopping to give me a hug and congratulate me on turning another year older. I don’t think I’ve received so many hugs from this many different people since…well, ever.

The last to arrive are Rilla’s parents.

Tom Pine smirks when I open the door. “Look, Nancy. He’s wearing a shirt.”

Before I can formulate a response, Rilla’s mom has wrapped her arms around me.

“Happy Birthday, Logan dear.” She doesn’t let me go, instead she squeezes me harder. Is this what mom hugs are supposed to feel like? Not the weak armed pats on the back I’ve received infrequently from my own mother. It’s as if I’m being swaddled in affection and told I’m special.

“Thank you. And thank you for coming all this way.” I still can’t believe they made the drive from Maine on a Friday evening for my birthday.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She beams at me as she lets me go and goes to hug everyone else in the room, leaving me with her husband.

After an awkward beat, he extends his hand and I shake it, gratefully. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Tom.” He looks around the room before continuing. “I realize that I never properly thanked you for everything you’ve done for Rilla. No one wants their child to have to go through something like that, but Nancy and I both slept better knowing she had someone like you by her side.”

Just then, Rilla emerges from the kitchen with what appears to be flour or maybe icing sugar in her hair. Her face breaks out in a grin as she runs into her mom’s waiting arms, almost knocking her over in the process.

“There is no place I would rather be,” I tell him, honestly.

“Glad to hear it,” he says, then clears his throat. “After I hug my kids, do you think you could introduce me to Stuart Maxwell?”

***

Considering I wasn’t completely comfortable with a party being thrown in my honor, I have a fantastic time.

I’m almost embarrassed at the number of gifts I receive. Handmade soaps from Maggie, concert tickets from Josh and Betty. The highlight may be the personalized basketball jersey Callum gives me for our weekly league. He allows Josh to be jealous for a full minute before giving him his own.

When Rilla’s dad announces that they’re taking us to a playoff game tomorrow at the Garden, I’m officially overwhelmed.

---