Page 81 of Getting Over You

“Since when have I ever, Cade?”

He considers this. “This time you should.”

My lip juts into a pout. Cade groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Gigi. I’m serious.”

“Sure.” I nod. “No birthday.” Cade’s eyes drag over my face. “I promise,” I lie.

“If you do something, I’m going to be pissed.” His jaw flexes.

“Uh huh.”

“Gigi.”

“Cade.”

“Princess. I mean it when I say—”

“When is your birthday again?” I ask, eyes sparkling as my hand travels downward against his zipper. “I’ve already forgotten.”

When I march into Beach Brew the next morning before a shift at the diner, the first thing EJ says to me is, “I was told to warn you not to plan any sort of birthday excursions.”

“Hello to you, too.” I roll my eyes. What an enigma, that Cade. “He’s being ridiculous.”

“Or maybe,” EJ offers, “he’s a man turning twenty-three in a few weeks who isn’t in the mood for a party.”

“That sounds crazy.” I hand over bills for my coffee and EJ shakes his head. I slide them into his tip jar. Ever since Cade and I have been spending time together exclusively-non-exclusive, EJ has been comping my coffee nearly every day.

“The fact that you’re saying that after spending all summer with my brother is crazy.”

I debate this, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “He really doesn’t want anything?”

EJ shakes his head. “His birthday is a weird time for him. He hates being recognized as not a shithole.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Not to someone like Cade, who is convinced he’s a shithole,” EJ says. “Remember your target market.”

“But I don’t think he’s a bad guy.”

“That doesn’t matter,” EJ explains. “Not to Cade.”

I decide at this moment what I’m going to do for Cade’s birthday: convince him he’s the amazing guy I know he is.

“You just got a look on your face.”

I wait at the pickup counter for my coffee, wordless.

“Gigi. If you’re planning something for his birthday behind his back, I’m telling you, it may not go the way you hope it will.”

I roll my eyes. “EJ.”

“Respectfully, Gigi.” He hands me my coffee. “Take my advice.”

“Have you done anything for EJ’s birthday?” I ask Rory later that day, as we clean adjacent tables.

“You mean like this year? Or ever?”

“Ever.”

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