Page 76 of Tell Me It’s Right

The porch light flickers on as the door opens, and my father appears with a giant American flag top hat on. “Gracie! Hey, Gracie’s here!” he calls through the door.

I wince and extend an arm to hug him as I join him on the porch.

He smiles down at me. To my relief, he doesn’t ask about the cab or why I’m not with my friends. He says nothing about my random appearance at all, just squeezes my shoulders and leads me inside. “You’re just in time. Mom was about to cut the cake. And we haven’t done sparklers yet or anything.”

The house is empty as we head through the hall to the sliding glass doors. The sight of the backyard loosens a knot in my chest that I hadn’t realized was there. It looks exactly the same as it always does—corn hole set up in the middle of the yard, the grilloff to the side, a wooden picnic table on the deck full of food on red, white, and blue plates.

But no sign of Liam.

Leo and Keava wave from their game of corn hole, but I beeline for the table and load up a plate of the pasta salad.

“Save room!” cries Mom as she hurries over with the cake.

Judging by how tall it is, that thing has at least three layers in it. The outside is pretty tame—white frosting covered in sprinkles and careful rows of icing piped along the edges. Strawberries and blueberries are artfully placed on top, along with a mini American flag.

She sets it on the table and goes in for a hug.

“Oh, sweetie. I’m so glad you came! It wasn’t the same without you here.”

“How long did you spend on this cake?” I ask, leaning in for a closer look.

“Pfft.” Mom waves her hand, but it’s Dad who calls, “Two days!” before ducking inside.

“Well, in that case, I’ll happily have cake for dinner,” I say.

Mom kisses me on the cheek, then gets to cutting.

The door creaks behind me, and I polish off the last of my pasta salad just in time for Mom to plop a giant piece of cake on my plate.

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

I jump, having expected my dad. But when I turn, it’s Liam standing two paces behind me. The moment I meet his eyes, I’m frozen, unable to look away. It feels like we stare at each other forever, then one corner of his mouth lifts, and softly he says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” I squeak.

“We cutting the cake?” Leo bounds over, and the moment breaks.

I blink and turn, taking my cake to the farthest spot at the table. The cake might be delicious, but I have no way of knowing because trying to chew as Liam sits across from me is impossible and it just tastes like ash. Everyone else chats and laughs, but I don’t hear a word. I can’t hear anything other than my pulse in my ears. I feel the weight of Liam’s gaze on me, but I focus on my plate.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at it under the table, my stomach flipping at the sight of Liam’s name.

I can leave.

My eyes snap up to his, and my brows pull together as I subtly shake my head.

Another buzz.

Can we talk? Front porch?

Slowly, I nod.

“I’m gonna grab another beer,” says Liam as he pushes back from the table. “Anyone want anything?”

“Just a rematch,” says Keava with a wide grin.

He points at her. “My ego cannot take getting my ass kicked twice, but thanks.”

“Mom, this cake is so good,” says Leo around a mouthful. “Best you’ve ever made.”

---