Page 68 of Cinnamon Roll Set Up

He releases me, and I give him the code to lift the gate. I direct him to the heart of the development, and we pull up in front of a stucco and brick behemoth. Three-foot-high letters spell outHappy birthday Willain the yard, with approximately five hundred pink-and-purple balloons tied in bunches along the walkway and by the door.

“Are we sure this is it?” he asks drily.

“I told you.”

We grab our gifts and head inside. I’ve never felt at home enough in their house to just walk in, but the fancy script sign on the door says we should. We’re immediately accosted by the brightest, sparkliest party decor in the history of ever. Clusters of balloons sway in bundles throughout the house. Parents mingle in the living room drinking elaborate cocktails. The gift table is already piled high with bags, boxes, and bows. We set ours on the floor next to it and explore further.

Their dining table has not one, not two, but three rainbowbirthday cakes on it. There’s a tray of pink cupcakes just in case the hankering hits, and crystal vases full of gigantic lollipops. Pink urns hold huge pink-and-white peony blooms, while others display pale pink cake pops.

Miles takes in all the excess. “I’m getting a sugar rush just from breathing the air in here.”

“We’re not done yet.” I take his hand and lead him through the rest of the house, where more parents talk business over their drinks. I go through the French doors and into the backyard.

Pink unicorn floats fill the pool. Three piñatas hang from the trees—a birthday crown that says “Willa,” a unicorn head, and a butterfly. A row of little girls in multi-colored fairy skirts are lined up to get their faces painted. The entire scene is excessively pink and ridiculous.

I spot my family beneath the covered porch and lead Miles their way. Grandpa sits in a padded wicker chair, and Sam and Harper are on a sofa next to him. Dad is talking to them with his back to us, but Sam spots me. Even from here, I can see his gaze drop to Miles’s hand in mine.

I let go when we close in on them. I can only deal with so much today.

I go straight to Grandpa and drop a kiss on his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

His eyes are a little watery these days, but they still sparkle. “As fine as always. Just basking in the glow of the pinkest birthday party I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t hire mermaids to swim in the pool,” Sam says.

Dad looks at the inflatable floats gently bobbing over the surface. “We considered it but ultimately went with face painting and the fairy godmother.”

Sam and I share a look.

“Fairy godmother?” he asks Dad.

“She’s outfitting the girls with skirts and doing their hair in the den.”

That explains the surprising number of girls with elaborately curled hair today. I hadn’t considered it was part of the theme.

“You’re right. Much more practical than mermaids.”

“Good to see you, Miles.” Grandpa grins up at the man by my side.

“Thank you, sir. It’s not every day I get invited to a party like this.”

Grandpa chuckles. “No, I’d imagine not.”

“I know it seems like a lot.” The concession is a rare show of self-awareness by my father. “But there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my baby girl.”

My smile feels off, but I’m sure Dad would never notice. He’s always been like this with Finn and Willa, as if parenting is something he just discovered twelve years ago, even though he’s got children who are thirty and twenty-eight.

“Colleagues told me the children you have later in life are something special,” he goes on. “I never knew how right they’d be.”

It kind of feels like he expects us to applaud that.

Miles shifts closer to rest one hand on my back. Comforting me. Supporting me. His warm hand just became the most important thing at this party.

“I guess I missed out on one of those special late-in-life babies.” Grandpa shoots a pointed look at my dad.

“Sam and Georgia know what I mean.” Dad glances to us to back him up.

“I don’t know if I do,” Sam says. “Could you dumb it down a little?”

---