Page 180 of Becoming Selfish

“Happy MJ birthday, MJ. I love you so much. From, Logan.” He’s wearing a genuine grin as he looks across the table at me.

“I don’t get it,” Eli chimes in from behind me.

“It’s my twenty-third birthday. Which was Michael Jordan’s number, so it’s my MJ birthday,” Marc explains to his brother. “Happy MJ birthday, Marc Jones,” he reads again without the abbreviation.

He opens the smaller envelope that was sandwiched in his card, pulling out two tickets.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Marc’s eyes widen, reading the details on the ticket stub.

“What is it?” one of the twins asks. To be honest, I still can’t tell them apart, so I don’t know who asked the question. All of the cousins look eerily similar with their tanned skin and black hair. The Jones genes run strong in this family.

“Two court-side tickets for when the Kings come to town to play the Timberwolves.” Marc holds the tickets up in explanation.

“Why are you so cool?” Garrett asks me rhetorically.

“Thank you, Logan. This is awesome. I can’t wait to watch my favorite team lose in person,” Marc adds with a genuine smile.

“I know I bought you two tickets, and I’m supposed to tell you to take whoever you want, but you’re taking me, just so you know.”

“Obviously.”

The doorbell rings, and Jack answers it as the rest of us go back to enjoying what’s left of our brunch.

“Looks like there’s one more gift.” Jack walks back into the dining room with a box in hand.

“Who is it from?” Marc asks.

“I don’t know. It just got delivered. Says it’s from Brooklyn.”

Marc’s eyes dart to mine as I try to hold back my amused smile. I already know what it is because I helped Ali pick it out, but I’m excited to see Marc’s reaction.

When Marc opens the box, his face splits into a huge shit-eating grin. He can’t even pretend like he’s not excited that Ali sent him a gift.

Those two are so full of shit.

“For real?” he asks as his eyes land on the basketball jersey, perfectly folded in the box. “Logan, I know you had a hand in this.” Marc lifts the vintage Kings jersey from the open box, running his hand over the stitched last name. “Chris Webber was my favorite player as a kid.”

Eli squeezes my shoulders because he knows I helped with this gift. But I just helped with the idea. Ali was the one who was excited for Marc’s birthday and was full of anxiety, trying to find him the perfect present.

Like I said, those two are full of shit.

Marc grabs ahold of the card tucked underneath as he reads it to himself. His excited smile quickly turns soft, reading whatever Ali wrote on the paper.

“Read it out loud,” Mary says again.

“Maybe not this one,” Eli interjects, looking out for his brother as Mary eyes us suspiciously.

“I should go call Alison and thank her.” Marc stands from the table and heads up the stairs, dialing our friend in New York as he does.

Grabbing the card that Marc left on the table, I read it to myself, allowing Eli to see it over my shoulder.

Happy Birthday, Marcus.

I already know that the best part of your 22nd year was that you met me, but I’m excited to be a part of your 23rd year too.

P.S. Logan helped with the gift, so if you don’t like it, blame her.

-Alison

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