Page 62 of Shadow Dance

"I said sorry I haven’t called,” he says, sounding groggy and hoarse. “My phone died, and I couldn’t find my charger.”

All the shit he’s done to me over the years, and this is what he apologizes for? “Don’t worry about it.”

“Anyway, I have a lot of shit to get done between now and when we fly back tomorrow, so don’t trip if I don’t call,” he warns through a yawn.

“I’ll do my best,” I say dryly.

“Love you. Gotta go.”

We hang up. I stare at the screen, watching as it goes dark.This asshole really forgot my birthday.

Jaime looks away from the road for a second. “What’s up? You good?”

“He forgot my birthday.” I was prepared to go low-key today but fuck that. I love my birthday and there’s no reason not to celebrate it. “But I didn’t expect anything different from him, honestly. Let’s go get some cake.”

“Yeah, that’s messed up. Although I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t seen it on your license.” Jaime’s eyes soften. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I shrug, pulling up Portia’s digital gift card. “I just did.”

“Well, we can do whatever you want today.”

“Good, because I have a gift card for a cakery in Rockridge.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just saycakery,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “What’s the address?”

Twenty minutes later, Jaime and I walk into a cozy little cake shop on College Avenue and order an assortment of the most decadent cupcakes I’ve ever seen.

“You plan on eating all of these?” he teases, following me back to the car with a beribboned, pale-yellow box.

“Don’t worry, I’ll share.” I send Portia a picture of the cupcakes, thanking her for hooking me up.

The next few hours are some of the best I’ve had since leavingBoston. We get lunch at Foggy’s Pub on Shattuck, where I introduce Jaime to proper soda bread and Dublin Coddle with pints of Guinness on the side. We walk the Berkeley Marina, where the sun has finally broken through the fog, and eat cupcakes on the grass. Finally, we stop by my favorite Chicago-style pizza place in Rockridge to grab a few pies for dinner.

It’s nearly five by the time we head back toward the Hills. The sun’s just about set, and the streets are a soft purple, glowing with the lights of restaurants.

“Thanks for today.” I steal a glance at Jaime’s handsome profile in the fading light, the dark stubble that dusts his strong jawline, the dark lock of hair falling over his eyes. “It was sweet of you to celebrate with me.”

All day, small gestures have underscored this truth: the charcoal sketch of a ballerina he got me from an artist’s market, the sprig of golden yarrow he plucked from a bush along Marina Boulevard and tucked behind my ear, letting me play DJ in the car. The biggest gift of all was just spending time with me … no rushing to the next thing, no agendas, no complaints.

“It was a good day, but it’s nothing compared to what you deserve,” he says.

“I've enjoyed it," I say softly. I didn’t realize he felt that way, just like I didn’t realize until just now that I might be well on my way to falling in love with him.

“Is there anything else you want to do before we call it a night?” he asks.

“The Chabot Space and Science Center isn’t too far from here,” I suggest, still trying to shake the weight of my realization. “The center itself might be closing soon, but if I remember correctly, they let you access the telescopes for a few more hours.”

Sure enough, the center has just closed by the time we pull into the empty parking lot, but the observation deck that houses the telescopes is open. There, all of Oakland spreads out below us, its lights twinkling like the stars just starting to speckle the sky. “My nephew loves space. He’d go bananas if he was here,” I muse, stepping into one of the domes that houses a telescope named Rachel.

“What’s his name?”

“Liam.” My heart squeezes the way it always does when I think about home.

“He’s in Boston, right?” Jaime asks.

“Yeah,” I say, peering through the telescope. “Oh wow, it’s clear tonight. Do you have any nieces or nephews?”

“Not that I know of.”

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