Page 88 of Lassoed Love

“Here’s to Xavier, the old man of the hour! Happy birthday, mate!” The sentiment is met with a chorus of cheers, glasses clinking together in celebration.

Olivia, always the lively one, chimes in with her trademark enthusiasm. “And here’s to the guy who’s officially one year closer to needing reading glasses!” Her playful jest earns a round of laughter from the group. I roll my eyes but can’t help but laugh.

The atmosphere is charged with camaraderie and warmth. Thebonfire crackles, casting dancing shadows on our faces as we continue to celebrate my birthday in the heart of the bush, surrounded by good friends and great food. Having Isla by my side makes it all the better, and I find myself grateful for her presence.

As the plates are cleared away, the women return, my mother leading the charge with a massive birthday cake in her hands, adorned with scattered lit candles on top. I can’t help but roll my eyes at the sight. “Oh, c’mon, I said none of this shit,” I groan.

“Now, now, Xavier. Don’t be stupid—a birthday cake is a must,” my mother retorts, and I can’t deny the knowing grin on Isla’s face. This is undoubtedly her doing. Her smiling face warms my centre, and I find myself appreciating the effort.

The rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ begins, led by Isla, and the group joins in. I run my hands down my face, attempting to hide my embarrassment when Harrison starts the ‘Hip hip, hooray’ routine. Reluctantly, I blow out the candles upon their relentless prodding.

My mother hands me the cake-cutting knife, and I hesitate. Nevertheless, I take it because, let’s be real, I can’t say no to my mother. The knife touches the bottom of the cake, and Imogen seizes the opportunity to stir the pot.

“Ohhh, it touched the bottom! Quick, you need the nearest person,” she announces, her eyes mischievous as they land on Isla, who’s now blushing furiously.

Olivia joins in the teasing. “Awwww, Xav, you need to kiss agirl, and it ain’t gonna be Mumma this time, so...” This earns a laugh from thegroup.

Shaking my head, I rise from my chair, facing Isla. The group starts chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss,” and I can’t help but search Isla’s eyes for permission. She smiles, biting her lip, blushing, and nods, granting me all the permission I need—so I grab her chin, playfully planting a kiss on her cheek.

“There you go. Happy?”

“OH C’MON!” Imogen prods further.

“You can do better than that, mate,” Harrison shouts. I look at Isla, and she smiles, biting her lip as she blushes and nods once again.

This time, I don’t hold back—not caring that we have an audience. Fuck it. She’s mine and I want everyone to know it. I grab her face with both hands and plant a kiss on her lips. Instinctively, her hands go to grip my arms as I deepen the kiss, arousal flooding straight down to my cock.

An “Awwww” emanates from my mother.

“Alright, that’s enough now. We said one kiss, not eat each other’s faces,” Olivia feigns disgust, and I break the kiss, Isla now giggling, turning her face away.

“Alright, happy now?” I tease, and the group chants a resounding, “Yes.”

Later that night, my father comes home. Wearing an easy smile, he strolls over, and his hand lands on my shoulder in a familiar, friendly gesture. “Happy birthday, you old dog,” he quips, the teasing twinkle in his eyes mirroring the glow of the bonfire.

“Relax, I’m only thirty-one. You’re the old dog,” I tease, and he laughs. The rest of the group has shifted back to the bonfire, leavinga bit of distance. An old gazebo adorned with flowers, meticulously kept by my mother over the years—‘It makes the perfect romantic spot’—she’d always say.

Coincidentally, the girls settle inside the gazebo, surrounded by fairy lights Olivia put up this afternoon. Amelia had arrived just after we cut the cake, apologising for being late due to work drama. As I stand against the railing of our porch, my attention is drawn to Isla as she sits with the girls, and my father breaks the silence.

“So, you and the Thompson girl, uh?” he says with a bit of disdain in his voice, a subtle disapproval lingering.

“Isla, her name is Isla, Dad,” I correct him, defending her with a touch of irritation.

He raises an eyebrow, his tone revealing an unspoken history. “Isla. Right. I just hope you know what you’re doing, you know, before it becomes serious.”

I glance at him. “Well, I think it’s a little too late for that.”

Dad sighs, the lines on his weathered face deepening. “Xavier, I just don’t want you getting involved in something messy. Relationships come with their own baggage, and some are heavier than others.”

He huffs, a disapproving tone lingering. The unease settles in my stomach. I want my father to be happy for me, to let go of the old grudges he holds against Isla's father.

“Dad, you know Isla’s dad isn’t doing well,” I say, hoping to evoke some understanding.

My father waves his hand dismissively, “Those peopleand their problems. You don’t need that, Xavier.”

I sigh, frustrated with his unyielding stance. “Dad, Isla is nothing like her father. You need to get over it,” I say, my tone carrying a mix of irritation and pleas.

“For now, I’ll tolerate it because of your mother. She’s been ramblin’ non-stop about the two of you, and I can’t get’er to stop,” he admits, his voice trailing off.

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